Holiday films thrive on spectacle—strings of lights that should never have passed a home inspection, icy steps that take out full-grown adults, decorations hung from heights that defy reason, and kitchens that operate in a state of cheerful chaos. Viewers love these scenes because they lean into the familiar. We have all overloaded a power strip, climbed on the wrong piece of furniture, or attempted to multitask while something boiled over. And while these moments are exaggerated for storytelling, the behaviors beneath them are painfully realistic.
What’s remarkable is how easily these cinematic mishaps translate into the daily rhythm of a laboratory. The same shortcuts, distractions, and optimistic assumptions that drive holiday plotlines also shape real-world incident patterns. When you watch Clark Griswold wrestle with a nest of extension cords or see Marv lose the battle against an icy staircase for the third time, you are, in a way, watching a safety lesson unfold.
With that spirit in mind, here is a tour through the most iconic holiday movie mishaps—and the timeless lab safety dos and don’ts they remind us to follow.
Clark Griswold vs. electricity
National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (1989)
Clark Griswold approaches holiday lighting with the gusto of someone who has never once considered electrical capacity. He builds a lighting display that could guide planes, powering it through a tangled ecosystem of cords that would make any facilities technician weep. When the lights finally ignite, they do so with the kind of voltage that briefly knocks out power across the neighborhood.
Any lab manager who has spotted three power strips plugged into one another will recognize the energy here. Temporary electrical fixes have a way of becoming permanent—especially when a new instrument arrives before anyone has assessed load limits. Benches fill with cords, adaptors become architecture, and a single outlet ends up carrying the hopes and dreams of 12 devices.
If your bench looks even remotely like Clark’s garage, it’s time for an intervention. Labs should not glow.
Buddy the Elf and the questionable stretching choices
Elf (2003)
Buddy approaches holiday decorating with the kind of enthusiasm normally reserved for small children let loose in a toy store. In the process, he contorts himself into positions that defy basic anatomical expectations—stretching across furniture, twisting midair to hang ornaments, and reaching for decorations perched just slightly beyond the limits of good sense. He doesn’t so much decorate as perform a full-body flexibility test.
It works for him because he lives in a world where physics routinely takes a break to sip hot cocoa piled high with marshmallows. Labs, unfortunately, exist in reality. Overreaching for items on high shelves, twisting awkwardly to grab something across the bench, or leaning far to the side to avoid retrieving a step stool are all surefire ways to irritate shoulders, strain backs, or drop equipment.
Lab Safety Management Certificate
The Lab Safety Management certificate is more than training—it’s a professional advantage.
Gain critical skills and IACET-approved CEUs that make a measurable difference.
The safety lesson is simple: if getting to an item requires a full-body stretch worthy of Buddy’s decorating montage, it’s time to adjust your setup—not your spine.
Marv, the ice, and the unwavering laws of physics
Home Alone (1990)
Marv’s attempts to climb the McCallisters’ frozen steps remain a holiday classic: confident stride, immediate loss of friction, full-body aerial moment, abrupt landing. Repeat. It’s peak slapstick, but also the purest demonstration of what happens when surface conditions change faster than human reflexes can react.
Labs experience their own version of this every winter. Meltwater from freezers, condensation near cold rooms, puddles near doors, and tracked-in slush all turn solid flooring into surprise slip zones. The danger is less cinematic than Marv’s pratfalls but no less real.
If the floor looks glossy enough to reflect your personal protective equipment (PPE), assume it’s plotting against you. Clean it before someone reenacts a holiday disaster sequence.
The frozen-pole lesson no one forgets
A Christmas Story (1983)
Few moments are as universally remembered as the tongue-to-pole scene in A Christmas Story. One confident dare, one instant regret, one unforgettable physics demonstration. It’s funny because everyone knows you shouldn’t do it—but it’s also a reminder that extreme temperatures don’t always look dangerous.
Cryogens operate on the same principle. Liquid nitrogen doesn’t shout about its hazards. Dry ice looks oddly intriguing. Frosty metal seems harmless until it bonds to skin faster than you can say “PPE.”
If a surface looks cold enough to stick a tongue to, treat it with all the respect it deserves.
The holiday kitchen chaos phenomenon
Four Christmases (2008)
No film captures holiday kitchen chaos quite like Four Christmases. A simple breakfast spirals into a volcanic eruption of batter, smoke, shouting, and general culinary despair. Everyone talks at once, everything cooks at once, and no one seems entirely sure who’s responsible for what.
This same optimistic multitasking pops up in labs—autoclave cycles running while reagent prep starts, timers chiming during pipetting, conversations happening while glassware warms. It feels productive until the moment it isn’t.
The fix isn’t banning multitasking; it’s noticing when the mental stove has too many burners lit. Clear the bench. Finish a step before starting the next. Avoid creating the lab equivalent of the Four Christmases breakfast explosion.
Decorations—and hazards—that slowly migrate toward danger
Jingle All the Way (1996)
In Jingle All the Way, Howard Langston’s decorating decisions lean heavily on enthusiasm and lightly on fire safety. Lights drape across anything that will hold them, cords stretch into questionable configurations, and garlands drift closer to heaters with each passing scene. Nothing combusts, but the threat is always there.
Labs experience the same slow slide toward risk. Flammables inched too close to warming blocks, aging cords that still “kind of” work, labels that peel off containers, and heat sources that migrate during busy weeks all contribute to hazards that build quietly.
A year-end cleanup—retiring frayed cords, re-labeling containers, pulling flammables back to safe distances—can prevent your workspace from becoming the lab version of Howard’s decorating montage.
Improvisation, risk, and whether Die Hard counts as a holiday film
Die Hard (1988)
Every year, someone reignites the debate: Is Die Hard actually a holiday movie? If your answer is yes, then John McClane is arguably one of the season’s most resourceful characters. His survival at Nakatomi Plaza comes down to constant risk assessment—stopping to evaluate hazards, adapting when conditions change, and improvising only when he’s sure there’s no safer option. The ventilation shaft crawl, the glass-dodge scene, the infamous fire-hose escape… none of it is textbook safety, but all of it hinges on rapid situational awareness.
Laboratories require their own version of this thought process. Equipment glitches, protocol changes, missing reagents, and unexpected data all test a researcher’s ability to troubleshoot in the moment. Improvisation can be useful, but only when anchored in solid risk evaluation, established controls, and a clear understanding of what could go wrong.
McClane’s instincts may have saved the day, but lab work demands a calmer, more deliberate approach. Stay flexible, think critically, and choose solutions that don’t rely on action-hero physics.
A final lab safety reminder for the season
Holiday movie mishaps may be exaggerated for humor, but the habits behind them—rushing, improvising, multitasking, stretching just a little too far—are the same ones that shape incident patterns in real labs. By borrowing from the cultural canon of holiday chaos, lab managers can make safety insights more relatable, more memorable, and far more fun.
And if you ever catch yourself about to take a shortcut, ask one simple question:
Is this a Clark Griswold move?
If the answer is yes, it’s time to rethink the plan.
