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Top-ten lists of holiday films abound right about now, but what about picking the top three Christmas movies ever made? Certainly there's plenty to choose from. Christmas movies are almost a genre unto themselves: between live-action and animated features, there are literally hundreds of titles out there. Inevitably, some are pretty bad, others amusingly cheesy.

I am a professional plot hole detective. It can be a tedious job, but I guess I was born for it. Movies, after all, are all about suspension of disbelief. The stories they tell in sight, sound, and motion are like delicate threads that can be cut anytime something happens that’s not credible or even explainable. Then the spell is broken, and you’re no longer transported by the narrative. Instead, you’re looking at a movie with a stupid plot and wondering what the offending studio was thinking when they released it.    Sometimes, plot holes even happen in top-notch movies, but they are usually minor and easily overlooked or forgiven. They never break the spell, and most can be explained with a close re-watching of the film. So don’t let a supposed gap in logic taint your enjoyment of an otherwise classic movie. Below, I take some of the most well-known plot holes and lovingly fill them in for you.

Man versus Nature. It’s a struggle as old as the movies—even as old as man himself. (Man, that’s old.) Many movies have thrilled us by pitting their leading characters against the elements. Floods, blizzards, tornados, tsunamis and other cases of severe and, at times, catastrophic weather conditions are the stuff film drama is made of.  It seems that hardly a calendar year goes by without stormy weather whipping around audiences. Earlier his year, Russell Crowe’s “Noah” encountered a flood of Biblical proportions. And just when we thought the memory of Hurricane Sandy was starting to fade, “Into the Storm” arrives in theaters shortly, bringing destructive cyclones and tornadoes with it.

The phenomenon known as typecasting has been practiced in Hollywood since its earliest days. Stars who excelled in certain kinds of roles were usually offered those kinds of parts repeatedly. To risk-averse studios, this simply made good business sense.

There’s an extra frisson of excitement to be found in what I call “launch pad” movies. This is not necessarily a movie star’s first film, but rather the one that propels him or her to that exalted status. In these special outings, you can feel a certain electricity coming off the screen; it's as if the performer is announcing in a subliminal stage whisper: “I’ve arrived!”  Here are twenty key launch pad vehicles for some of my favorite stars, spanning eighty years of movie history.   

They say the customer is always right — but not always right away. For instance, sometimes it takes a while for movie audiences to recognize just how special a film really is. When it premieres, there’s a barely audible thud, and very little box office.  The culprit could be poor distribution, half-hearted promotion, a storyline slightly ahead of its time, the ire of some influential critic with digestive trouble, or any combination of the above. A surprising number of now-classic films either just broke even, or actually lost money on initial release. Here are 10 classics from my list that fall into this category. 

It seems that many Americans of all ages are willing to forego even outstanding movies that just happen to be made in a different language. Obviously the reasons for this go beyond patriotism, so I went online to check out a few blogs on the subject. I found some choice comments:

Turning leaves, the appearance of tweed, and the visceral thrill of a cool nip in the air all evoke a seasonal tide turning. Autumn on film is one of the medium’s richest commodities, and a visual feast to mirror the one that rolls around every November.  Filmmakers can’t resist all that color or the movement of falling leaves, with deep nostalgia swiftly evoked in a few frames of swirling red and gold. Regardless of plot, cast or dialogue, the unsung hero of the autumnal movie is the cinematographer.  Fall on film seems to break into two categories: city and country; and that city is most often New York. It not only dresses the part, but the energy that arrives in town after Labor Day belongs to a law of physics.