Home Alone 2: Lost in New York

For its first hour Chris Columbus’s 1992 film rebuilds the previous one almost beat for beat: the oversleeping, the airport scramble, the separation, the spending spree. The only variable is the city, and the film makes no attempt to hide it. Through the first half of its 120 minutes you can name the next scene in advance. The trap finale moves to a gutted building under renovation, pushing the injuries well past the original. Bricks from a roof and a live electrical charge reach a hardness that sits oddly beside the Christmas frame. The Pigeon Lady fills exactly the slot Old Man Marley held: frightening figure introduced early, confidant at the midpoint, helper at the climax. The position returns, not the person. Macaulay Culkin took 4.5 million dollars plus five per cent of the gross, against 110,000 for the original. Donald Trump, then owner of the Plaza Hotel, allowed shooting in the lobby and a suite in exchange for a cameo. Joe Pesci was genuinely burned on the head filming the scene where Harry’s hat catches fire. The 28 million dollar production reached 359 million worldwide. Go in if the same shape in a bigger city is enough. Avoid it if cartoon violence escalating to bricks and live current troubles you.