Yuletide Celluloid
Perhaps tonight we’ll have time to watch our annual Christmas movie, Miracle On 34th Street. (The original, as if you had to ask.) I love it for its mastery of tone, not only for balancing cynicism and sentimentality, but for frequently striking both notes at the exact same time.
Another fave Christmas flick is Donovan’s Reef with John Wayne and Lee Marvin. It’s John Ford in his full corny comic mode, with some of the flimsiest dramatic conflict you’ll ever find in any movie, ever. I can’t defend it intellectually but find it unaccountably moving nonetheless.
Also the Bing Crosby/Danny Kaye White Christmas. As in Donovan’s Reef, memories of WWII lurk in the subtext, lending genuine poignancy to what would otherwise be colorful froth. (Maybe the former ain't so unaccountable after all.)
It’s a Wonderful Life? Not for me, thanks. I was going to explain why I am no Capra fan, but then I realized that it might be your fave Christmas flick and that would be Grinchy.
Speaking of which, we’ve already had our annual viewing of our two must-see Christmas specials: How the Grinch Stole Christmas and A Charlie Brown Christmas. Aside from all the obvious things to dig about these festive rockets straight from the heart of my childhood, I dig the waywardness of their animation. In the Grinch in particular, but also in Charlie Brown, the characters are allowed to go wildly off-model in many shots. You’d never see this in today’s era of computer animation, even for 2D shows like The Simpsons. (Yes, the modeling was frequently off in the first season and a half or so of The Simpsons. I’m talking about now, man.)
I find many of today’s big animated productions too perfect, too painstakingly crafted and workshopped and story-edited. They hit all the designated story beats but the idiosyncracies of a singular vision have been tenderized right out of them. I enjoyed and respected Finding Nemo and The Incredibles, but from a distance. Give me the scratchy lines of Chuck Jones’ Grinch any day. There are cels where the animators replicate the rough fade of his pencil across the paper. If the Grinch had to look a certain way to make a moment work, or Chuck just happened to sketch him in a particular way at a given moment, well, that’s how he looks. It’s like there’s four or five completely different Grinches. But they all rock. With all the tender sweetness of a seasick crocodile.
This is my last post before the holiday, so please accept the festive wishes of your choice, and don’t drink any crunchy eggnog.