Though many actors have transitioned from television to film, few have gone from sitcom star to movie star as quickly and smoothly as Tim Allen. Allen did it without traditional training or trial. He had been a successful stand-up comedian when "Home Improvement" was tailored to him. There was precedent for that: Bob Newhart, Roseanne, Jerry Seinfeld. But none of them parlayed their small screen popularity into leading film roles to be proud of, Roseanne's She-Devil being the closest to a live-action try and even that placed her alongside the world's most accomplished actress. The Santa Clause gave Allen no such talent to play off of. This 1994 Christmas comedy would live or die on Allen, the sole recipient of above the title billing.

And it most certainly lived. Though it opened on Veteran's Day weekend in a distant second place behind Interview with the Vampire, The Santa Clause would be the runaway #1 movie of the holiday season with a $145 million gross (the equivalent of $277 M at today's ticket prices) that placed it fourth for the year and high among the best-performing live-action family films in Disney history. It gave Allen the rare distinction of simultaneously topping three media markets, with the nation's #1 movie, television show, and book (his debut Don't Stand Too Close to a Naked Man) all relying heavily on his appeal.

"Home Improvement" would run a fruitful eight seasons, signing off in 1999 not far removed from its peak viewership. Allen had earned cinematic immortality as the voice of Buzz Lightyear in two hit Toy Story movies. He also continued to star in a number of comedy films to sometimes good (Jungle 2 Jungle, Galaxy Quest) but generally declining (For Richer or Poorer, Joe Somebody) returns. Then he returned to his breakout film role in 2002's The Santa Clause 2. Eight years is an eternity in the world of family films and there was no doubt that Allen's following had shrunk since no longer being a weekly fixture in millions of homes. And yet, the sequel was a hit, being generally well received by the public and nearly reaching the same lofty heights at the box office.

The follow-up seemed to revive Allen's film career some, with the actor proceeding to make more family comedies about the holidays (Christmas with the Kranks) and another for Disney (The Shaggy Dog) to decent numbers. Then, it was back to the well for another chance to don the fat suit in 2006's The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause. This one would experience a more typical drop-off in attendance, as it would be upset by Borat in its opening weekend and go on to make a series-low $85 million. That was still at the higher end for a family film; only the mega hits Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest and Cars earned more for Disney that year.

Still, the series had run its course and the third film was even advertised as the final one. For a while now, I have envisioned a future where an older Tim Allen reprises the role (less makeup needed!) in a nostalgia-inducing television movie. Should that purely speculative project ever come to fruition (and I hope it does), it would no doubt be distanced from the original millennial trilogy, which will be released to Blu-ray next week in a set Disney calls The Complete 3-Movie Collection. While Santa Clause 3 came to Blu-ray alongside its November 2007 DVD debut, its two predecessors are new to the format and are also kindly sold separately for those who don't want the whole series or already own SC3's unchanged BD.

You don't have much to stand on if you want to argue that the original movie isn't the best in this series. It's in an entirely different league than the sequels and ranks alongside Home Alone and The Muppet Christmas Carol as one of the finest holiday films of the '90s. Two ways that The Santa Clause stands out from those arguably better comedies: it centers on one of the two figures most central to modern-day celebrations (not Baby Jesus) and it embodies the decade more fully.

Though they may seem at odds, those two qualities are actually quite complimentary. The Santa Clause gets to trot out all the folklore we have about Santa Claus and subject it to some contemporary skepticism. The question of whether Santa is real arises early, as divorced Midwestern toy salesman Scott Calvin (Allen) hurries home to spend Christmas Eve with his six-year-old son Charlie (Eric Lloyd). Charlie doesn't want to be there and Scott isn't well-suited to hosting him, but a burned turkey later, they make do with a glum dinner at a seriously understocked Denny's populated with Asian businessmen and injured single dads.

Charlie is beginning to doubt Santa's existence, to the encouragement of his mother Laura (Wendy Crewson) and her psychiatrist second husband Neal (Judge Reinhold). Scott, on the other hand, likes the tradition and comes up with an answer to every tough question Charlie can pose during a bedtime reading of Clement Moore's "The Night Before Christmas." In the middle of the night, Scott and Charlie are awoken by a "clatter" which soon results in a man falling off the roof and vanishing, leaving his Santa suit behind. In putting on the red suit, Scott unintentionally becomes the new Santa Claus, starting with a night of magical gift deliveries.

Scott's new line of work gives him eleven months off, which affords the film a chance not only to tease his enchanted calling but to follow the trouble it creates in our cynical modern world. Charlie's enthusiastic recollections of his night at the North Pole trigger warnings for Laura and Neal and make a pretty ironclad custody case against Scott, whose visitation rights are suspended amidst distressing, inexplicable physical transformations to the traditional Santa image: round, jolly, white-haired and with a beard no razor can stave off.

The doubt and legal procedures that Santa must endure recalls Miracle on 34th Street (a film, incidentally, remade the very same year to far less success), but The Santa Clause is hardly old-fashioned. The references to a fax machine and a subscription Disney Channel as well as the conspicuous lack of computers all date this to just before the Internet age. Divorce was on the rise and even if the subject was satisfyingly explored fifteen years earlier in Kramer vs. Kramer (and more recently yet less believably in the mega hit Mrs. Doubtfire a year earlier), it is treated with sensitivity and intelligence here, grounding what could have been a purely cheerful comic fantasy in something meaningful, real, and timely.

Those qualities distinguish this wonderful film over its G-rated sequels, which are still fun but not anywhere near as substantial. Comparing the elements of the three repeatedly puts this one on top by some distance. This original film is handily the funniest, most poignant, and down-to-earth installment. Its visuals are far superior to those of the CGI-reliant sequels. While some of this one's ambitious effects are dated, many of the practical ones are still quite good. Human flight is convincingly achieved with invisible harnesses. There are nice matte painting backdrops, the North Pole's sets are real and of a high quality, the reindeer (realistic animatronics voiced by the legendary Frank Welker) aren't so cartoony and dopey. The story is clearly the most interesting. Allen's performance has true weight to it (no pun intended).

The score by Michael Convertino is remarkably enchanting, raising the question why he essentially left the movie business. Even the songs, from the licensed (The Drifters' recurring "White Christmas", The Chipmunks' "Santa Claus Is Comin' to Town", and a surprisingly fitting use of ZZ Top's "Gimme All Your Lovin'") to the ambiguous (an uncredited but stirring choral version of "Carol of the Bells") to the original (Loreena McKennitt's "The Bells of Christmas" and the infectious post-Christmas spirit-boosting end credits theme "Christmas Will Return"), offer just about perfect accompaniment to the visuals.

The make-up work is pretty outstanding, especially Allen's transformation, which required no unhealthy weight gain for the actor. I suspect Disney didn't mount a campaign for it to compete for the dedicated Oscar (which their Touchstone release Ed Wood won), as they didn't for the sequels. But if that category can make movies like Click and Norbit Academy Award nominees, it also should have done the same here.

I've watched this film countless times and can recite a great deal of it verbatim. Its moments and dialogue stick with you and my opinion of the film rises with every viewing. While I know that many don't think much of this film or of Allen in general, about the worst faults I can find in it are nitpicks: the lame device of the jetpack-equipped E.L.F.S., who bust Santa out of jail with tinsel, and the fact that the filmmakers needed to pick either "cookie" or "cocoa" to make their Santa's sleigh "CD" dispenser joke work. I told you they were nitpicks!

One other minor but troubling fact continues to plague the movie. It is altered from its original theatrical release to remove a joke in which Scott claims to recognize Neal's mother's phone number as "1-800-SPANK-ME." Some kid tried dialing that number in 1997 and got something inappropriate, causing Disney to edit the film. Some television viewings changed it to "1-800-POUND" (obviously, not a complete number, nor a funny one), but this Blu-ray, like the DVDs before it, simply cuts out the exchange altogether.

For a film that has earned as much money as this one at the box office and on home video, Disney really ought to just buy that number indefinitely and restore the film to its original form. It sounds like the costs of owning a toll-free number are unbelievably low and I'm sure that calls to the number would be few and far between. Even if they didn't want to do something creative like record a Santa Clause-related message, just disconnect it. It's not like TV shows and movies referencing fictitious websites at accessible domains are forever responsible for those contents. While Disney is more protective of their image than most companies and this is obviously a minor thing, it just seems like there is an easy solution, especially for company with such deep pockets and large revenue streams.

Eight years is a long time to wait for a sequel, especially in a family film franchise. Kindergarteners who caught the original Santa Clause in theaters would be high school freshmen by the time The Santa Clause 2 opened. A fact like that gave reason to suspect it might not perform very well and the passage of time suggested that the original film's magic would be tough to recreate. Those lowered expectations made it easy to appreciate that The Santa Clause 2 was not terrible. Nonetheless, repeat viewings illustrate how clearly inferior this sequel is to its admirable predecessor.

Scott Calvin has more than settled into his role as the current Santa Claus. Life is good at the North Pole, but for two bombshells about to be dropped on the big guy. First, his son Charlie (still Eric Lloyd and thus appropriately aged) has somehow made it onto the Naughty List. Secondly, newly-introduced second-in-command elf Curtis (Spencer Breslin) points out another clause hidden in the fine print of the business card Scott took out of the old Santa's pocket. This one, the Mrs. Clause, requires that he be married by Christmas Eve. Why? I guess because it gives him something to do and the film a sense of urgency. Christmas is just weeks away, after all.

Those two story ideas sound contrived and tricky to pull off. And yet, SC2 handles both more gracefully than you'd expect. It's tough to believe sweet little Charlie from the first film is the kind of teenager who would sneak into his school after dark to spray graffiti all over the gym wall. And he's rebelling against his "strict" principal Carol Newman (Elizabeth Mitchell), who won't allow Christmas decorations inside their public high school. Well, that's something, I guess. It's nice to catch up with Charlie instead of writing him out.

Naturally, Carol emerges as a potential love interest for Scott, who the "DeSantification" process gradually and conveniently renders back to something resembling Tim Allen in his late forties. The looming marriage deadline turns this into a romantic comedy, a genre that many, myself included, hold in contempt. Though it is a stretch to think that the icy disciplinarian and the guy who just days earlier looked like Santa Claus will fall for each other and in time for the fast-approaching holiday, Mitchell and Allen have nice chemistry and there are enough charming scenes (a horse-drawn sleigh ride in the snow, a salvaged lifeless faculty Christmas party) to win us over on this hasty coupling.

The sequel isn't without some major problems, however. They mostly exist at the North Pole that Scott left behind. To run things in his absence, Scott reluctantly allowed Curtis to make a toy clone of himself. The rubber-haired plastic Santa lets Allen do some amusing physical comedy. But it gets dumb quickly, as Toy Santa makes an army of adult-sized toy soldiers and stages a coup that can only be resolved with a conventional action climax. I understand there needed to be some North Pole material and magic, but this is beneath the franchise, too childish, loud, and broad following the first film. Breslin's Curtis is a truly obnoxious character and overshadows head elf Bernard (David Krumholtz), whose own comic appeal suffers as a result.

Perhaps this sequel's greatest contribution to the series' mythos is the introduction of a Council of Legendary Figures, consisting of such familiar personalities as Mother Nature (Aisha Tyler), Cupid (Kevin Pollak), the Sandman (Michael Dorn), the Easter Bunny (Jay Thomas), the Tooth Fairy (Art LaFleur), and Father Time (an uncredited Peter Boyle, whose character from the first film, Scott's boss, must have had his own Father Time Clause experience). Assembling and personifying all these icons sounds kind of fun (an idea that DreamWorks' upcoming Rise of the Guardians is counting on), but it contributes almost nothing of value to the film, besides lowering the age of the target audience. This cartoony spirit replaces the original film's edge, which relied largely on a less likable Scott and a painful custody battle.

SC2 does a remarkable job of bringing back all the important original cast (even Crewson and Reinhold, who don't get to do much) and only bidding farewell to elves who no longer looked like their younger selves. But the film didn't allow for other key creative personnel to return. Tim Allen's most frequent director John Pasquin, who was with him from the pilot of "Home Improvement", was out. Replacing him at the helm was Michael Lembeck, a veteran sitcom guy like Pasquin. In addition, the writing team of Leo Benvenuti and Steve Rudnick, who followed up their hit feature debut (the original movie) with Space Jam, would not return. They would take story credit, but the screenplay itself would be attributed to five others, including Ken Laurio and Cinco Paul, the brain trust behind Despicable Me and other Illumination Entertainment animated films. The phrase "too many cooks..." can easily be applied here.

Not only too many cooks, but the wrong ones. One gets the feel that neither the returning cast nor the new crew had recently watched the original film. They remembered some details, like Neil's (Judge Reinhold) penchant for colorful sweaters (but not the spelling of his first name). But they forgot the tone and they forgot the look of the North Pole, which has gone from timeless warmth and practical sets to artificial facades and CGI backgrounds. Even Santa's reindeer have changed from looking like real animals to obvious puppets who can practically speak now (and not in the creature style of Frank Welker, but ordinary voice actors Bob Bergen and Kath Soucie).

Though still entertaining and in a similar way, The Santa Clause 2 lets me down for not thinking more and thinking more highly of its predecessor.