Chris Columbus, the movie mastermind behind cozy classics like Home Alone, Mrs. Doubtfire, and the first two Harry Potter films, almost had National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation under his belt. But then he met Chevy Chase, and, well… let’s just say Chevy wasn’t exactly in the Christmas spirit.
In a juicy tell-all with Vanity Fair, Chris spilled the tea about why he yeeted himself out of the director’s chair faster than you can say, “Clark Griswold.” Spoiler alert: Chevy Chase’s vibe was less “ho-ho-ho” and more “NO-NO-NO.”
“I was signed on… and then I met Chevy Chase,” Chris began, probably still shuddering from the memory. “Even though I really needed a job at the time, I realized I just couldn’t work with the guy.” Translation: he’d rather be unemployed than endure Chevy’s personality, which apparently is as smooth as sandpaper dipped in lemon juice.
Chris didn’t hold back: “I called John [Hughes] and said, ‘This is really hard for me, but I can’t do this movie with Chevy Chase.’” A bold move, considering John Hughes was the King Midas of movies back then.
And now, the pièce de résistance—the first meeting with Chevy. Buckle up.
“So, I’m sitting there, all ready to talk about my vision for the movie,” Chris said. “I go on for 30 minutes, pouring my heart out. Chevy says nothing. Nada. Zip. Finally, he looks at me and says, ‘Wait. You’re the director?’”
Uh, yeah, Chevy. Who else would be monologuing about the movie? The janitor?
But wait—it gets weirder. Chevy followed up with the absolute curveball: “Oh, I thought you were a drummer.”
A drummer. Was this a joke? A diss? A cry for help? Vanity Fair floated the idea that Chevy might have been referencing some obscure jazz percussionist also named Chris Columbus. But honestly, who even knows?
Chris kept his cool—bless him—and tried to steer the convo back to the movie. “I was like, ‘Uhh, okay, let’s keep talking about the film.’ Thirty seconds later, Chevy says, ‘I gotta go.’” Cue the tumbleweed.
Then came a second meeting-slash-dinner with John Hughes in tow, where Chris was treated like the invisible man. “Chevy and Hughes talked about everything except the movie,” Chris said. “After two hours, I thought, ‘Yeah, nope. I’m out.’”
And just like that, Chris dipped. But don’t cry for him, dear readers, because karma swooped in faster than Santa on Christmas Eve. “The next weekend, I got another script from John—and it was Home Alone,” Chris revealed.
The rest, as they say, is cinematic history. Instead of wrestling with Chevy’s antics, Chris gave us Kevin McCallister, the Wet Bandits, and an endless loop of Home Alone reruns every December.
So here’s the moral of the story: When one Grinch steals your joy, another John Hughes script is just around the corner. Merry Christmas, Chris Columbus—you dodged a Chevy-sized bullet.
