George Seaton’s Miracle on 34th Street (1947), despite originally being released at the height of summer, established itself as a Christmas perennial, the superficially simple but actually quite satirical tale of a man trying to prove to the world – or New York City at least – that he really is Santa Clause. It was remade several times – as an episode of The 20th Century Fox Hour in 1955 and as television films in 1959 and 1973 (it would be unofficially remade again as Defending Santa (2013)) – before producer John Hughes turned his attentions to it in 1994.

Directed by Les Mayfield (of Encino Man/California Man (1992) “fame” but mainly a producer of “making of” featurettes), the remake follows most of the beats of the original without adding very much to it. Time had seen off Gimbels apartment store (the chain had closed in 1986) and this time Macy’s refused to allow their name to be associated with the film so the rival shops are renamed Shopper’s Express and Cole’s respectively but otherwise it’s business as usual – until the ending where writer Hughes made changes that still seem rather odd.

Dorey Walker (Elizabeth Perkins), a “special events director” at Cole’s is forced to fire the store’s Santa, Tony Falacchi (Jack McGee) when he gets drunk before taking part in their annual parade. She enlists the help of an old man who introduces himself as Kris Kringle (Richard Attenborough) and is the very image of how people imagine Santa Claus to be. He’s such a success that he’s offered the job at the shop and becomes an instant hit with the children, though his habit of telling parents where they can find out of stock or cheaper toys at other shops, particularly Shopper’s Express, annoys the management at Cole’s. He befriends Dorey but is alarmed that her precocious young daughter Susan (Mara Wilson) has been brought up not to believe in Santa. But when he attacks Falacchi in self defence (in a twist unthinkable for Seaton’s generation of film makers, the drunken Falacchi implies that Santa has an unhealthy relationship with the children who visit him) and is put on trial, defended by Dorey’s attorney boyfriend Bryan Bedford (Dylan McDermott), it’s not just Susan he has to convince. To win his freedom he has to prove that he really is Santa Clause.

Attenborough is this remake’s most valuable player, twinkling so brightly he’s almost blinding. It’s a toss-up really between him and the original’s Edmund Gwenn as to who plays the kindliest, most charming of screen Santas (Gwynn bagged an Oscar for his turn, the only actor playing Santa to take home one of the top Academy Awards). But take Attenborough out of the equation and you’re not left with very much. Pointless, unnecessary – the original is still in circulation every Christmas and can’t be improved upon – and a cynical exercise in brand recognition, the 1994 Miracle is a bland affair that pretty much abandons the satirical seam of anti-commercialism sentiment mined in the original. There’s lip service paid to the idea near the end but in Hughes’ biggest change to the story it’s literally the almighty dollar that saves the day.

The new ending bizarrely seems to be elevating Santa to the same level as God – the judge overturns the case when he realises that the US government prints “in God we trust” on its currency; if the US government can believe in a higher power with no physical prove, he reasons, somewhat sketchily, that the courts must do the same. And it just doesn’t work. Kris is set free but the way that is ending works doesn’t establish that Santa exists at all, just that the authorities have something to say about God on money.

Bruce Broughton’s overbearing score does a lot of the emotional heavy lifting here. “Be amazed,” it shouts as the strings soar; “this bit’s Christmassy (cue the jingle bells); “Get ready to cry” (enter those damn strings again). It isn’t long before it starts to feel terribly manipulative, as though all involved lost faith (oh, the irony) in what they were doing and so started pressing buttons in the hope that they’d get the emotional response they were after.

Like so many Christmas films, Miracle on 34th Street was a hit (audiences seem to be more forgiving as the Yuletide season approaches) and certainly it’s well made, and Attenborough makes it worth the price of admission alone (though Wilson is endearing as the wise old head on young shoulders Susan) and maybe that’s enough. It’s blandness ensures that it’s inoffensive and if the ending doesn’t really work and the satire is stripped away, there’s still just enough of Valentine Davies’ original screen story still visible to make it just about work. It’s not a patch on the original of course and is unlikely to trouble its reputation for being the go-to version of the story but when Attenborough is on screen it’s watchable enough even if it’s hard to sometimes ignore its manipulative nature.