Coming home from college for winter break, I decided to revisit a classic winter film while recovering from my wisdom teeth extraction. That movie was It’s a Wonderful Life, directed by Frank Capra. Although the film was released in 1946, it contains themes that transcend eras. One element in particular stood out to me this time around: the conduct of Mr. Potter, the film’s main antagonist. His fixation on money and control feels eerily similar to how modern private equity reshapes communities one acquisition at a time.

What I appreciate most about Capra’s portrayal of Potter is the lack of sugarcoating. While many films soften or romanticize power, Capra presents it plainly. That honesty feels deliberate. The Robber Baron era was still within living memory when the film was made, and the world had just witnessed the devastation caused by unchecked power during World War II. Capra could not have predicted what was to occur with private equity, yet the resemblance is hard to ignore.

Potter is defined almost entirely by ambition for wealth, nothing more. There is no sense of human connection in his character, only a relentless, monetary pursuit. The film even suggests that he lacks meaningful family ties, underscoring how much he has devoted his life to money at the expense of relationships. Credit is due to Lionel Barrymore, whose performance makes Potter easy to resent.

As suggested earlier, Potter’s traits closely mirror certain tendencies visible in corporate behavior today. When profit becomes the sole guiding principle, it inevitably spills into every other aspect of life, often with negative consequences.

Capra illustrates this through the alternate reality of Potterville. Without the lifelong commitment of George Bailey, Bedford Falls does not merely change; it deteriorates. It becomes transactional and hollow. In reality, resisting such forces would take far more than one individual, but the film invites us to imagine what collective responsibility could look like.

Ultimately, It’s a Wonderful Life has endured because it speaks to something fundamental. We need more people like George Bailey and fewer like Mr. Potter. Humans are drawn to community, not isolation. George is celebrated at the film’s conclusion because he helped build lasting relationships, trust, and shared purpose. He sacrifices personal ambition for the well-being of others, and while he is far from perfect, that imperfection makes his impact more meaningful.

We yearn for community. If that remains true, then perhaps the lesson is not only to admire George Bailey, but to work toward a future he would recognize, and one Mr. Potter would despise.

Curtis Hannon is a Falconer resident.