In 1992, the world was a much different place. So, too, was New York, which so loves to bill itself as its own world (if that’s the case, it’s one planet people ought to consider side-stepping; alas, the Kool-Aid is too strong for most). Among the things that were different was the absence of the internet allowing for naivety. A direct consequence being that audiences would take blatant geographical faux pas in stride, starting the second Kevin McCallister (Macaulay Culkin) touches down at the airport in New York. Regardless of whatever three majors the filmmakers were trying to pass it off as–JFK, LaGuardia or Newark–there is no airport in existence that offers an up close view of the Manhattan skyline, let alone one that’s even far away. Yet that’s what Kevin sees upon arriving, heightening the false lore that once buttressed the city with ease. It’s not the only incongruity, which is why this is the perfect scene to set a precedent from the beginning of Kevin’s journey to NYC.
There are, however, some examples of veracity established by director Chris Columbus and writer John Hughes (who is, of course, more than just a writer–he’s an institution). Apart from when Donald Trump slithers through the Plaza Hotel (to “subtly” brag about being the owner of it at the time), there’s also a true-to-life instance of Kevin running in fear near Central Park during a year when New York was still packing some residual 1980s grit. Coming upon a slew of dodgy “bench characters” and prostitutes when the Upper East Side wasn’t all “Gossip Girl territory,” Kevin seems to see NY as it really is: a Boschian nightmare. Topped off by trying to find sanctuary in a cab where he remarks in a brief moment of relief, “It’s scary out there,” the driver turns around to reveal his face–just another part of the hellish “winter wonderland” tableau–replying, “Ain’t much better in here.”
So yes, despite Home Alone 2 being unavoidably a “Disneyfied” version of New York, presaging the actual Disneyfication that would take place soon after in 1994, when Disney took over the New Amsterdam Theatre, there are “vignettes” of realness. And perhaps the realest moment of all is a short scene involving little known actress Leigh Zimmerman as “Fashion Model.” Zimmerman, indeed, would never be able to fully transcend the curse of only being doled out characters that were so nominal as to be described in the credits with nouns like “Friend at Party” or “Business Woman” (she even had another “New York” part in Madonna’s underrated 2011 movie, W.E. as “East Side Woman”). Which is a shame because few actresses have done so much with so little in terms of the iconicness of this moment, and what it represents: a battle cry for harassed women everywhere. And all without wielding any dialogue. Just facial expressions denoting the outrage that most women in New York are faced with on a daily basis in terms of garden variety street-based sexual harassment. In truth, this scene was extremely ahead of its time in addressing the abuse women in general (and women of New York specifically) endured–and endure–as “playthings” of douchebags both yuppie and broke ass at a time when the city was still enjoying the free rein misogyny mirrored by such a phallic architectural landscape.
The fact that this blonde angel of a stranger serves as Kevin’s savior also speaks volumes about the unsung acts of heroism committed by women in cities every day. And even as Kevin scurries away to find “sanctuary” in the park where he’ll be further exposed to danger, we know that the Pigeon Lady is also lurking in the area to pop out whenever Kevin might need her, negating Harry’s (Joe Pesci) foreboding statement, “Grown men come into the park and don’t leave alive.” Except it will turn out that assessment applied more to him and Marv (Daniel Stearn) than anyone else. Managing to hide inside a chest on the back of a horse carriage (back when they were less controversial), Kevin’s escape from the dastardly duo was a direct result of “Fashion Model’s” help–perhaps we can even assume she eventually went on to land a contract with Trump Model Management (though of course, by the time it was founded in 1999, she would probably be considered day old bread).
“I wanna go home,” Kevin’s voiceover desperately notes from within the confines of the chest as the carriage rides away, freeing him ephemerally from the clutches of Harry and Marv’s diabolical machinations. It seems a testament to just how “un-fun” New York really is once you get on anyone’s radar. And when you’re “Fashion Model,” whether by profession or simply “look,” being on the radar of gross and unwanted men is as simple as walking out onto the street. So perhaps it’s fortunate–thanks additionally to coronavirus–that New York is veering toward a solidified state of sexlessness (cue a reboot called Sexlessness and the City). For political correctness (a.k.a. doing what’s not morally reprehensible) has finally backfired in a big way on a city that once claimed to be “open to all”–but is now no longer billing itself as a safe haven for sexual deviants and perverts (hence Jeffrey Epstein building his empire out of an NY base).
And honestly, we can trace at least some of the root of this back to Leigh Zimmerman as a preyed upon “Fashion Model” in a mainstream family movie. Proving, once more, the old adage that there are no small parts, only small actors. Except in this case, obviously, it shifts to small asses. Because, yes, this was still a time before Sir Mix-A-Lot’s “Baby Got Back” was out long enough to put big assed women on a pedestal for years to come. Though, tellingly, the song came out the same year as Home Alone 2. What’s more, Kevin knowing that to pinch “Fashion Model’s” backside would invoke the furor necessary to release him from Harry and Marv’s grasp iterates that women weren’t taking shit from men long ago–no matter how frequently they shovel it our way in even the most quotidian of scenarios.
