Bangers n' Mash 32: Christmas Vacation

I told you I wanted to get one more episode up before the year was over! This was originally planned to be a structured episode about Christmas holiday specials. However, December sort of kicked both of our asses. My Christmas movie marathon didn't exactly go as planned. Most pressingly, the previous episode was ridiculously late. As a result of all of this, we decided to recorded a looser episode, a post-Christmas breakdown of what the holiday was like for us.

After talking about some of the perennial holiday favorites (and not-so-favorites) we got to see this December, our conversation turns towards weird holiday traditions from around the world. After the episode degrades into a typical collection of nerdy bullshit. I talk about a few recent watches, we discuss Disney's "Frozen," the Hexafusion internet meme, a few interesting projects that were never made. And, of course, the two of us rant about Gal Gadot's casting as Wonder Woman in the "Man of Steel" sequel, which still doesn't come out until 2015.



Come back tomorrow for my Yearly Retrospective, a comprehensive list of every new release I saw this year, and on the first for my 2014 Film Preview. Happy New Year from Film Thoughts!

Christmas 2013: December 24

Silent Night, Deadly Night (1984)

Horror and Christmas are two great tastes that taste great together. Contrasting the jolliest day of the year with monsters, murder, and mayhem are obviously fascinating, and something the action genre has repeatedly taken advantage of. Moreover, Christmas is a pretty weird day, when you think about it. Santa Claus, especially, is a strange figure, an omniscient being who watches all our actions, judges, and bends time to his will in order to sneak into your house. Holiday traditions all over the world frequently bring macabre or horrific elements to Christmas. There have been many Christmas horror films made over the years, so many that a killer Santa Claus no longer surprises. In 1984, when “Silent Night, Deadly Night” was originally released, the idea of a killer Santa Claus was shocking enough to lead to boycotts from the PTA and picketing around the country. Unlike more sophisticated Christmas horror fare like “Black Christmas,” “Silent Night, Deadly Night” gives the audience exactly what they want, providing sleazy, gory, mean-spirited violence with holiday trappings, while also being more character oriented then you’d expect a greasy eighties slasher flick to be.

It’s also hilarious. The film begins with the Chapman family, dad Jim, Mom Ellie, five year old son Billy, and infant son Ricky on a Christmas road trip to visit Grandpa in the nursing home. The parents spent two minutes with the catatonic old man before wandering off, leaving their pre-school age son in the hands of an unmoving old man. Sensing blood, the Old Man springs to life and delivers a monologue about how Christmas is the scariest night of the year. Following that, the family jumps back in the car and drives off. Why a family would drive all day to spend seconds with a relative, leave a little boy alone with a comatose grandparent, or whether Grandpa is truly demented or was simply binding his time, waiting for an opportunity to traumatize his grandchild, are unimportant questions. “Silent Night, Deadly Night” functions on its own level of reality.

Anyway, a robber in a Santa suit pulls the family over, murders the father, sexually assaults the mother, and traumatizes Billy and Ricky for life. While in the care of a catholic orphanage, Billy is further traumatized by the psychotic Mother Superior. When presented with a child’s drawing of a dismembered Santa Claus and reindeer, Mother Superior doesn’t consult a child psychologist but instead locks Billy in his room. (Why a strict Catholic wouldn’t even allow kids to talk about Santa Claus, I don’t know.) When Billy walks in on a humping pair of teenager, Mother Superior whips the fucking teens as well as Billy, all while going on about punishment. She ties him to his bed when he has bad dreams and forces him to sit on Santa’s lap, even though he really, really doesn’t want too. The distressing nature of the child abuse is hilariously undermined by the inept execution. Child actor Danny Wagner sports a bad mullet while stiffly delivering his lines. Lilyan Chauvin plays Mother Superior straight-faced, bringing method actor intensity to this light-weight, ridiculous material. The tone is never less then melodramatic, with hilarious images like an eight year old punching a grown man across a room decorating the presentation.

After a solid half-hour of hysterically overwrought character building, “Silent Night, Deadly Night” finally gets to the point. Adult Billy, now a six foot tall body-builder, gets a job at a toy store, where he bonds with his boss, female co-worker, and asshole stock manager. However, as Christmas season approaches, Billy becomes uneasy, haunted by disturbing dreams. When the actor hired to play Santa Claus injures himself, Mr. Sims immediately decides the six foot tall, emotionally disturbed body builder is the right man to play the jolly, fat elf. In one of the film’s most (probably) unintentionally funny bits, Billy sternly threatens the children who sit on his lap with punishment, the kids running away in tears, the shop owners smiling and laughing about “how good [Billy] is with kids.” Inevitably, at the post-Christmas office party, the aforementioned asshole stock manager attempts to rape the object of Billy’s affection, sending the dime-store Santa over the edge, spurning on his murdering spree. After claiming several lives in festive fashion, our sadistic Santa hunts down Mother Superior to get his final revenge.

The absurdity mounts during the slasher escapades of the latter half. Like any good Catholic, Billy blames Pamela for her rape, gutting his romantic crush with a box cutter. The murders go unheard by the shop owner, who shrugs off the strange noises as the result of his drinking. The stalking scene through the toy shop has a few clever bits. However, you have to wonder why a toy shop would stock a fully working box and arrow… The movie’s most notorious moment is, no doubt, it’s most entertaining. Nudity prone scream queen Linnea Quigley is getting hot and heavy with her boyfriend in the basement. Their attempted seasonal rutting is interrupted first by the girl’s little sister and then the cat wanting in. Dressed in a pair of cut-off jean shorts and nothing else, Linnea goes outside into the snow to let the cat in. Naturally, the killer springs, tumbles the nude girl around the living room, before impaling her on a pair of strategically placed reindeer antlers. The boyfriend, meanwhile, doesn’t hear any of the screaming, wall slashing, or glass breaking. After both are dead, Santa gifts the little sister with a bloody box cutter, she too apparently not hearing the noisy murders that had just taken place.

The dramatic contrivances build up as the film barrels towards its climax. The police can’t call the orphanage and warn the nuns because one of the kids left the only phone off the hook. The cops shoot a man in a Santa suit approaching the orphanage, only to find out that was kindly Father O’Brian, the deaf-mute pastor! When Billy does show up to take his revenge on Mother Superior, she doesn’t run or try to get the other kids to safety. Instead, she looks the killer right in the eyes and says, repeatedly, “There is no Santa Claus!,” as if that would stop him.

The most endearing thing about “Silent Night, Deadly Night” is its deeply misanthropic, anti-Christmas streak. The first murder, the Santa Suit-clad robber shooting a gas station attendant, begins with the worker complaining about the fakeness of the holiday and ends with the murderer shouting “Merry fucking Christmas!” Christmas is presented as a night of judgment and moral hypocrisy. During the toy shop murder, Christmas decorations of Santa and his elves watch, coldly, disinterested, as innocent victims are brutally slain. Twice in the film, Santa Claus is shot to death in front of a room of kids. The most visually striking moment in the film is when Billy, randomly, turns his wrath on an innocent snowman. Just because he hates the season that much. Director Charles E. Sellier has claimed he had no agenda while making the film but clearly someone on the creative team really fucking hated Christmas. This makes “Silent Night, Deadly Night” ideal holiday counter-programming.

The movie’s good natured stupidity and camp balances out that mean tone. Robert Brian Wilson is a terrible actor, grunting monosyllabically behind his improbable Santa’s beard. The movie is loosely plotted, Billy mostly murdering random people before working his way back to Mother Superior. Most of the characters are aggressively sleazy cartoons. And what about those fucking awful original songs? “Santa’s Creeping?” “The Warm Side of the Door?” No wonder Billy goes crazy. Still, for all its dumbness, the film knows its audience. The gore effects are wet and creative. Each kill ties into the holiday setting, involving everything from Christmas lights to a sled. The sex and gore are piled on, with two rape scenes and four different sets of breasts. This is delightfully sleazy, deliriously campy, empty-headed holiday horror entertainment. Paired with a glass of eggnog, it’s the perfect antidote to a horror fan’s Christmas blues. [7.5/10]

Christmas 2013: December 23

This Christmas Countdown thing has been a complete fucking disaster. There were so many Christmas-related things I wanted to watched, established film classics, animated TV specials, obscure holiday-related TV episodes, Christmas-themed horror films, all sorts of things. Instead, I’ve managed to sneak in a few cartoons and that’s it. What can I say? The end of the year is a busy time for me. And don’t even mention that the month is merely over and I still haven’t squeezed a podcast episode out, much less two. The pressure is on, is what I’m saying. Anyway, here’s some stuff.

The Snowman and the Snowdog (2012)

I was completely unaware of this. While out doing some last minute Christmas dinner shopping yesterday, I found this one on the DVD shelves at the check-out lane. At first, I assumed it was a repackaging of “The Snowman” but upon closer examination, nope. It’s a brand new film, a sequel to my all-time favorite holiday special. Looking at the DVD case, I noticed that the film was only “based on the characters by Raymond Briggs” and had no direct involvement with the original author. Consider me skeptical.

“The Snowman and the Snowdog” gets one very important detail right. It maintains the hand-drawn animation of the original, retaining the colored-pencils-and-paper style of the first film. The edges are much smoother but, visually, there’s a strong sense of continuity. I was also kind of worried at first that the characters were going to start talking which, thank god, is avoided. As with “The Snowman,” this is a silent production, only music and visuals.

“The Snowdog” opens with an emotional gut-punch. A mother and son move into a new home during the summer time, accompanied by an old, much loved dog that has clearly seen better days. The next scene we see is a pan around a silent home, a carved jack o’lantern sitting in the sink. Outside, mother and boy shovel the last bit of dirt on a fresh grave, an empty collar and beloved ball placed on the mound. The original “Snowman” was a children’s film partially about lose. Since the death of a pet is the first lost most children will deal with, this seems like a logical place to take the material. Establishing the place, setting, and emotional weight so quickly is an impressive feat.

Disappointingly, this is a sequel and has to fulfill certain story obligations. During that winter, after the first snow fall, the young boys find a familiar scarf, hat, bits of coal and even a dried-up tangerine under the floorboards. He also finds a photograph of another little boy with a happy, smiling snowman. Gathering up the little snow in the backyard, he builds a new snowman, slavishly copying the original seen in the photograph. This works as a metaphor for the film’s commitment to the proven formula. That night, the Snowman magically springs to life. The two explore the suburban home for while before the boy and the snowman magically take to the sky, flying through the night. The flight takes them to a gathering of other living snowmen, climaxing with a meeting with Santa Claus. The next morning, the boy discovers the melted remains of the snowman, falling to his knees in sadness.

There are differences. The boy also builds a little dog out of snow, fashioning floppy ears out of old socks, the pet joining him on the night’s journey. A sprawling suburban neighborhood has been built around the old farm house. This leads to a magic-propelled flight through urban London. Instead of riding a motorcycle, the Snowman pilots an airplane. The gathering of snowmen escalates into a fairly uninvolving sleigh race. This is all just set-dressing for a familiar story. Attempting to directly emulate the original’s iconic scenes was a grave mistake. The new score is nice but Andy Burrow’s “Light the Night” is no “Walking in the Air,” this version ‘s flying sequence lacking the magic of the original.

Similarly, the meaning of the ending is completely changed. The little boy has lost his dog but, through the magic of Christmas, gains a new puppy. This film isn’t about the relationship between the boy and the snowman but rather the boy and the dog. So the Snowman’s inevitable fate lacks the same emotional significance. And Santa magically turning the Snowdog into a real dog kind of undermines the point, don’t you think? All in all, “The Snowman and the Snowdog” isn’t bad. It’s a valid effort and by no mean’s disrespectful. However, at the end, my suspicions were confirmed. “The Snowman” was a complete story. It didn’t need a sequel. [6/10]

Frosty the Snowman (1969)

Might as well keep the snowman theme going… If the Rankin/Bass Christmas specials were the Avengers, “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” would be Iron Man and “Frosty the Snowman” would be, I suppose, Thor. If you don’t grasp what I mean by that awkward pop culture analogy, let me elaborate. “Rudolph” remains the most popular of the studio’s seasonal output and was their first. “Frosty,” meanwhile, runs a close second in popularity. It usually airs directly after “Rudolph” or on the next night. The two character’s status as the studio’s most popular characters was solidify when Rankin/Bass chose them as the twin stars of its sole foray into feature length Christmas programming. Which brings my confusing Avengers analogy full circle. (Though, disappointingly, Frosty never punched a giant snake monster in the face.)

Anyway, the point of my rambling introduction is that “Frosty” was the studio’s most blatant attempt to recreate the success of “Rudolph.” The latter might have introduced the device of a formally semi-popular singer narrating the story but this program set the standard. Both were closely adapted from beloved Christmas songs. Both feature Santa Claus in supporting roles. The biggest differences are that “Frosty” strays from the studio’s iconic stop-motion animation, instead being told through traditional animation.

I’m actually rather fond of the adaptional changes made to the source material. Unlike “Rudolph” or the other, previous specials, “Frosty” doesn’t take place in a fantasy land. It’s set in a normal town, starring normal school kids, which look to be in the six-to-nine range. We found out why there had to have been some magic in that old hat, since it belonged to a washed-up, foolish magician. The half-hour’s non-snowman protagonist is a young girl, which also changes things up a bit. The animation is primitive but has aged fairly well, thanks to the cute character designs. Unlike “Rudolph,” this isn’t a proper musical, meaning no extra songs drag the story down.

Honestly, that story is the weakest element of the special. Nobody seems much alarmed by a snowman springing to life, save for yet another stereotypical Irish cop. Frosty’s intelligence is handled inconsistently. One minute, he can’t count higher then five. The next, he knows what the North Pole is, how to read a thermometer, and is aware of his own mortality. The magician’s pursuit of the girl and the snowman seems like a bit of an overreaction. Secondly, little Karen herself doesn’t think twice about jumping aboard a refrigerated train car. Nor does any adult notice the stowaways. Finally, Santa’s sudden appearance at the end is a major deus ex machine. He brings Frosty back to life, robbing his sacrifice of any meaning, and quickly punishes the villain. That villain, a goofy comic relief character, isn’t particularly intimidating either.

Watching as an adult, the most endearing thing about “Frosty” is probably its voice cast. Jackie Vernon’s big doofy voice embodies the character, making him lovable despite his flaws. Veteran voice actress June Foray is especially good as Karen, and a number of minor supporting characters, making you really care about the little girl. It’s weird to think that there are whole generations of kids who only know who Jimmy Durante is through this special. Anyway, “Frosty the Snowman” doesn’t quite live up to its nostalgic status but isn’t bad. [6.5/10]

Christmas 2013: December 19

How the Grinch Stole Christmas! (1966)

I’ve spent most of my December Christmas reviews asking if the various established holiday classics deserve to be classics, if they survive for any other reason then nostalgia and pop culture osmosis. Would we be watching most of these specials if they hadn’t been forced down our throats every December? I feel no need to have this conversation when it comes to “How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” I genuine love this movie.

The previous decade has seen many attempts to adapt the works of Dr. Seuss into feature length films. All of them have been failures to different varying degrees, from the absolutely wretched “Cat in the Hat” to the just-tolerably-mediocre “Horton Hears a Who.” They all have the same problem. You can’t really fill out a twelve page picture book to feature length without ludicrous amounts of padding. The classic animated adaptation of “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” doesn’t have this problem. Mostly because it’s only 26 minutes long but also because the animators felt no desire to stray from the source material. All the spoken dialogue is taken directly from Seuss’ original book, the majority provided by the brilliantly cast Boris Karloff and his soulful reading of the words. What additional material was added evolves naturally out of the material. The three songs have lyrics provided by the original author while any zany slapstick added contrasts nicely with Seuss’ absurd, nonsense rhyming.

The content is all Seuss but the visuals are purely Chuck Jones. In Seuss’ illustrations, the Grinch looked far more feline. In the cartoon, the Grinch takes on a troll-like appearance, supposedly modeled after Jones himself. The director’s style dominates the half-hour with a whimsical sense of inventive silliness. The Whos come in all sizes, from standard human height to three inches tall. Jones was the right man to bring Seuss’ absurd creations to life, as he realizes the ridiculous toys the Who children play with fantastically. Max the Dog is a minor character in the original story but is transformed into a star player here. His slapstick antics prove highly amusing, either cowering in fear from his cruel master or happily running to the front of the sleigh.

Yet Jones’ interpretation of the Grinch is by far the best aspect. The title character’s evil grin grows and grows, taking over his whole face, his hair parting into devilish horns. His dumpy body and gangly limbs are ill-suited to the role of Santa, a great visual joke. His crooked teeth look like they could literally be the home of termites. He slithers between the presents, gnaws nervously on his nails and generally enjoys his villainy to great degrees. Jones even handles the Grinch’s charitable transformation well, his red eyes switching to soulful blue. The x-ray showing his withered heart growing three sizes is such a simple, brilliant visual clue. Imagine if grown-up movies with real people could get away with visual short hand like that…

It seems the best Christmas fare focuses on finding a deeper meaning in the holiday. There’s no grand standing over the moral. Christmas came all the same, the Whos celebrating family and togetherness, not their awesome toys and present. Of course, “The Grinch” tries to have it both ways with its anti-materialism message, the villain returning the stolen gifts after his change of heart. With the way he’s immediately accepted into Who society, perhaps the message we’re suppose to focus on is one of forgiveness? Maybe I’m reading too much into it. Of all the perennial classics, “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” is the most brilliantly constructed and well done. Maybe, as an act of cinematic masochism, I should watch the Jim Carrey version next year? [9/10]

It’s Christmastime Again, Charlie Brown (1992)

As with any beloved institution, thoughts eventually turned towards sequelizing “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” Of course, “It’s Christmas Time Again, Charlie Brown” came twenty-seven years after the original, after the “Peanuts” specials had cycled through every other calendar event imaginable. A lot had change in those two and a half decades. The “Peanuts” supporting cast had evolved considerably. Iconic pop culture quasi-lesbian couple Marcy and Peppermint Patty had long been added to the crew. Snoopy had gained a sidekick in the form of Woodstock and his army of similarly yellow, chirpy clones. Charles Schulz had even gotten around to adding a token black kid to the group.

The changes those years brought are most evident in the special’s opening minutes. Last seen disenfranchised with the commercialization of the holiday, Charlie Brown is introduced here trying to sell Christmas reefs door-to-door. Good grief. While the animation has improved considerably in the time between, “It’s Christmastime Again, Charlie Brown” is deeply episodic. It’s really, really obvious that the animators just took a bunch of Schulz’ daily comic strips and strung them together. Short scenes play out in an orderly fashion, building up to a simplistic punch line. Such as Linus’ early attempt at cardboard box sledding, Snoopy’s go at charity bell ringing, or any of Marcy and Peppermint Patty’s interactions. Plot lines slowly form. Chuck is selling reefs in hopes of making enough cash to buy the Little Redheaded Girl a nice Christmas present. Meanwhile, Sally, Marcy, and Peppermint Patty get involved in the school’s Christmas pageant, the exact same story the characters were attempting to tell in 1965. The focus is primarily on those duos, Lucy, Linus, and even Snoopy getting pushed to the sidelines, Schroeder, Pigpen, and others not appearing at all.

It’s not that “It’s Christmastime Again, Charlie Brown” isn’t funny. A number of gags pay off nicely. Sally’s more direct attempts to sell reefs, Patty’s reaction to a performance of Handel’s “Messiah,” or the little sister stressing out over her single line of dialogue are all amusing enough. The dialogue is sharp and funny. However, there’s nothing particularly memorable about this one. While the original “Charlie Brown Christmas” had something to say about the season and invoked a deeper meaning to the holiday, “It’s Christmastime Again, Charlie Brown” merely uses Christmas as set-dressing for typical “Peanuts” shenanigans. It accompanied the better made and better known special for a few years before disappearing into obscurity. Which isn’t surprising at all. [6/10]

Batman: The Brave and the Bold: “Invasion of the Secret Santas”

In my brain, Christmas and Batman are inescapably linked. “Batman Returns” was the Bat-film of my childhood, after all. That film’s seasonal setting was probably just Tim Burton indulging in his particular fetishes but the character and the holiday contrast nicely. Christmas is bright and cheery. Batman is dark and brooding. Yet Christmas lights at night are sort of eerie and there’s something vaguely macabre about dragging a dead tree into your home and covering it in lights and shiny metal balls. I plan on reviewing “Batman Returns” for an eventual Tim Burton report card and I’ve never gotten around to buying “Batman: The Animated Series,” which featured two excellent Christmas episodes. So instead I’ve made a habit of watching “Invasion of the Secret Santas,” the Christmas edition of “Batman: The Brave and the Bold,” every December.

Though, if we’re being honest, “Brave and the Bold” is probably my favorite alliteration of the Dark Knight anyway. While there have been many great stories told during the character’s various dark and gritty stages, the campy insanity of the Silver Age is undeniably charming and creative. I also love “Brave and the Bold” for exposing the more obscure corners of the DC Universe to a wider audience. (Not to mention having an OUTRAGEOUS Aquaman.) I’ve always enjoyed Dietrich Bader as well. His deadpan delivery was a spectacular match for Batman, making the character a hilarious straight man to all the wackiness around him while never downplaying his Bat-badassery.

As for the actual episode itself, “Invasion of the Secret Santas” is a good primer for the uninitiated. It displays the series’ keen balance of Silver Age tomfoolery, genuine comedic timing, respect for the source material, character insight, and colorful animation. Robotic hero Red Tornado is baffled by the Christmas holiday and, as part of his quest to become more human, becomes determined to experience the holiday spirit. Since this isn’t “TV Funhouse” and he can’t go out and freebase some Cheer, he instead wears poofy sweaters, covers his house in decorations, sings carols, and gives gifts. (His gift to Batman is one of the episode’s best gags.) Even this isn’t enough to get the robot feeling completely seasonal. Luckily, an evil plot by Toyman expy Funhaus allows Red Tornado, with a little help from Batman, to discover the true meaning of the season.

“Invasion of the Secret Santas” has a nicely subversive, even twisted, sense of humor. When evil robotic Santas attack the city, the heroes are forced to repeatedly explode, burn, and dismember Santa Claus in front of children. In either a funny sight-gag or a clever way to reuse animation, the same woman is caught in three crises, reacting the exact same way each time. The episode slyly attacks commercialism too, since the villain’s plan involves using the season’s hottest toy as a tool of evil. The action sequences are beautifully animated too, such as a ride across several flying saucers, an out-of-nowhere reference to “Santa Claus Conquers the Martians.” Among all the goofiness, the episode even finds time for some heart-warming moments, such as Bruce’s flashback to his own childhood. I wouldn’t call “Invasion of the Secret Santas” one of the series’ best episodes but it’s a good seasonal entertainment nevertheless. [7/10]

Christmas 2013: December 17

A Charlie Brown Christmas (1965)

When writing about “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” I called it the most successful Christmas special of all time. Maybe it is. Even if it isn’t, that raises other questions. “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” is probably the most famous Christmas special, what with it contributing a term to the dictionary. But the most beloved Christmas television special? It’s got to be this one, “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” “Rudolph” and “The Grinch” air every year but Charlie Brown is frequently the highest rated. The film spawned countless other holiday-themed “Peanuts” special, covering everything from Thanksgiving to Arbor Day. The “Christmas” original is easily the most popular and probably the best of the Charles Schulz inspired productions.

I personally think “A Charlie Brown Christmas” has endured for nearly fifty years because it addresses many of the feelings the holidays bring, not just the snowy, candy-cane present-laden happiness. Honestly, Schulz’ comic strip could frequently be incredibly depressing. This is a series that started with two side characters declaring their hatred for the main protagonist. “Peanuts” and its many spin-offs subsist on Charlie Brown’s misery. Why does everyone hate this kid so much? Because he has thoughts in his head. Nonconformity breeds contempt even among children. Charlie doesn’t buy into the crushing cheer of the holiday season. Snow is on the ground, lights are strung on all the trees, and his fellow kids are making up Santa wish list. Yet Charlie just feels a general malaise about the season. Even in 1965, people were fed up with the rampant commercialization of the holiday but that’s not the only reason Charlie is down. Suggesting the melancholy the end of the year can bring, and a search for meaning in the festivities, puts “A Charlie Brown Christmas” on a different level then most other holiday specials.

Which makes it a bit disappointing that the special ends on such a shrug. Charlie Brown is enlisted to direct the local Christmas pageant and unsuccessfully puts up with his classmates’ bullshit. That doesn’t do the trick. Instead, Linus’ monologue about the holiday’s Biblical origin seems to turn the title character’s mind around. His not-really-friends then bond over the adorably shitty tree he’s chosen. So… Is that it? Charlie Brown strikes me as the skeptical type and just reciting the nativity story alone doesn’t seem like it would be enough. I guess there’s only so much ground a half-hour television special can cover. Either way, I like to look at the ending as Charlie Brown coming to his own conclusion about the holiday, finding his own peace with it.

The story’s humor comes from its supporting cast. Lucy is either the world’s youngest hipster, dismissing December snowflakes as too mainstream, or an early example of a young Republican, looking for any opportunity to capitalize on her friend’s misery. She’s also a massive bitch, threatening to punch Linus and charging her friends money to listen to her parrot useless textbook advice. Snoopy was right to take the shit out her meaningless speechifying. Though even Snoopy disrespects Charlie Brown. No wonder he grew up to smack his girlfriend around. Anyway, a lot of the small gags and lines of dialogue are highly memorable. I like Pigpen’s promise to keep a clean inn, Sally’s brutally honest letter to Santa, or Linus’ response to Chuck’s seasonal melancholy. Schulz’ greatest gift, aside from his whimsical artwork, was probably his ability to quickly establish amusing, lovable characters.

The show’s score is rightfully, widely beloved. The jazzy tones and soft, choir music was unique sounding for the day and has never been quite replicated. The animation is cheap, the character design loose and sketchy, the background bland and undefined. However, this winds up creating a timeless feel, since it’s so closely adapted from the source material. It’s easy to see why “A Charlie Brown Christmas” resonates with audience so much, even today. [8/10]

A Garfield Christmas Special (1987)

The most regrettable legacy “A Charlie Brown Christmas” has is that it made comic strip adaptations and holiday specials synonymous. The trend has died down over the last two decades but it used to be every December brought a new holiday-themed special starring a familiar character from the Sunday funny papers. Even Opus the Penguin and Casper the Friendly Ghost took a crack at it. “A Garfield Christmas Special” is far from a yearly classic but it is fondly remembered by a portion of the population. His huge success and hacky writing has made Garfield widely mocked yet the same internet that invented “Lasagna Cat” and “Garfield Minus Garfield” seems to have embraced the fat cat’s various vintage holiday specials.

“A Garfield Christmas Special” is, in particular, way better then it has any right to be. In a strip, Garfield’s sarcastic asides come off as mean-spirited and barbless. In animation, with the beautifully dead-pan vocals of Lorenzo Music behind him, Garfield becomes a sardonic straight man to the upbeat supporting cast. Thom Huge’s Jon is so obnoxiously caught up in the holiday cheer that Garfield’s snide remarks come off less like snarky asides and more like proper reactions. Music’s delivery makes lines that otherwise would have been groaners, like comments about the spicy sausage gravy or the décor of the building, quite amusing. The special doesn’t back away from mocking its hero a few times too, like when the cat gets lost in the snow or awkwardly climbing a tree.

The story follows the expected Christmas special outline. Garfield, as the opening dream sequence displays, only cares about getting as many presents as possible. He’s preoccupied with the “receiving,” not so much the giving. As the story goes on, he, of course, learns the true meaning of the holiday. However, the special goes about this far more subtly then expected. Instead of focusing exclusively on Jon, Odie, and Garfield, the script introduces Jon’s family. His meek brother Doc Boy (Doc Boy?) shares Jon’s child-like enthusiasm for the holiday, best displayed when the two wake up their parents at one in the morning. Jon’s Mom is your typical sitcom mother, cooking an absurd amount of money while being boringly wholesome. Dad Arbuckle is the straight man of the group, reacting to his sons’ antics with agitated bemusement. He is most amusing when forced to read the traditional Christmas story in an overly enthusiastic manner.

Yet the undeniable VIP of “A Garfield Christmas” is Grandma. Perpetual old lady Pat Carroll, best known as Ursula from “The Little Mermaid,” plays the grand mother as more then a little loopy. She sabotages her daughter-in-law’s cooking, arm-wrestles her grandson, and does unexpected push-ups. She immediately bonds with Garfield, finding a kindred spirit in the snarky cat. However, Grandma is more then just a goofy, spry old lady. The special’s best moment, and the scene that establishes its emotional heart, involves the grandmother talking about her late husband’s love of the holiday. Grandpa was a traditional old man, unable to express his feelings most of the time. But on Christmas, a gleeful, child-like wonder shined through. These words always spoke to me especially, since they also perfectly describe my grandfather, gone for many years. It’s a sad, sweet scene and not one you’d expect to find in an eighties Christmas special staring a fat, sarcastic cat.

The music is better then average too, much of it provided by Lou Rowls of all people. “Gimme, Gimme” and “Can’t Wait ‘til Christmas” always stuck out to me. Of course, as is typical of Garfield, no body questions how weird it is that Jon takes his pets with him on a holiday. Or that he talks to his cat like he can hear him. Or that the cat winds up giving the best gift of the night. Goes with the territory, I suppose. The animation holds up fairly well too. So is it blind nostalgia or is “A Garfield Christmas” actually kind of good? Either way, it usually finds its way into my yearly Christmas movie rotation. [7/10]

Ziggy’s Gift (1982)

Somewhere near the bottom of the comic strip-based Christmas special totem pole resides “Ziggy’s Gift.” Wikipedia claims that Tom Wilson’s creation is still being published with tie-in merchandise a-plenty but I haven’t seen any proof of this. It seems the character peaked in popularity during the late seventies and has been drastically dropping off in recognition every since. When mentioned at all today, it’s as an easy target of mockery. Do kids today even know what a Ziggy is? Anyway, in the early eighties there was a cartoon.

“Ziggy’s Gift” seems to be a fairly accurate representation of its source material. Ziggy puts up with a lot of bullshit from a cruel world but his undying sincerity sees him through, exposing the gooey sweet heart in every one. The plot here has the speechless hunchback unknowingly joining up with a circle of con-men, dressing as Santas, ringing charity bells, and making off with the donations. Despite this, the iron pot the con-man gives Ziggy winds up magically producing gifts and money. This magical plot device proves our hero’s innocence to the clueless cop pursuing the crooks and converts a slimy, snake-like pick-pocket.

That saccharine sweetness is most evident though that plot line. Ziggy gives a wad of bills to a group of sidewalk carolers. He produces a scarf for a freezing homeless man. At the end, Ziggy winds up gifting an orphanage with fresh Christmas toys and a brand new pet kitten. This is harmless enough. The special’s attempts at blatant humor are more confusing. Broad ethnic stereotypes seem to be the gag of the day. The police officer is named O’Conner and speaks with the kind of Irish accent that would make Chief O’Hara blush. An Italian butcher selling crates full of turkeys is especially broad. The kind old woman who runs the orphanage speaks with a large German accent, a stereotype I was previously unaware of. Some of the more surreal asides are even more off-putting. Store front displays, like a mechanical Santa Claus or choir of singing angels, malfunction in wild, borderline creepy ways when faced with the overwhelming sincerity of Ziggy’s magic pot.

Even Harry Nilson’s theme song, “Give Love Joy,” is sappy and lazy. I mean, I don’t hate “Ziggy’s Gift.” I watched the damn thing all the time as a kid and return to it every December. The animation is kind of pretty, I’ll give it that, and the whole thing is weirdly hypnotizing in its visual and sound design. Still, I’m shrugging. [5/10]

Christmas 2013: December 12

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (1964)

It’s not really Christmas without Rankin-Bass. The studio’s stop-motion animation specials have been playing yearly since the early 1960s. None of their programs are more iconic then their very first, “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” Many of the studio’s specials have been forgotten and overlooked but “Rudolph” gets a plum time slot every year. You can never predict what bits of holiday debris is going to wind up being a perennial classic. But why “Rudolph?” What makes this one so much more important compared to the other Rankin-Bass products? My most recent re-watching, one of a hundred probably, might have revealed the answer. This cartoon is kind of weird.

You don’t notice the weirdness at first. Like many of the Rankin-Bass specials that would follow, “Rudolph’s” story is framed by an omniscient narrator, voiced by a slightly washed-up musical celebrity of the day. In this case, Burl Ives as the folksy Sam the Snowman. The story embellishes on the widely beloved song while hitting all the expected notes. Rudolph is born with a freakishly sunny nose, one that gets him ostresized from his friends and family. This same deformity winds up making a star of Santa’s sleigh team come an especially foggy Christmas Eve. The special packs the margin between those two story beats with a lot of unrelated nuttiness. An elf who wants to be a dentist? An eccentric prospector looking for gold in the Artic? An Abomniable Snowman pissed-off for undefined reasons? An Island of Misfit Toys, overseen by a flying lion king? What the fuck does this have to do with a shiny-nosed reindeer? If the special wasn’t so famous, and so inseperatably connected with the original song, I think people would question how odd a lot of that is.

Okay, so some of the weirdness is right there on the surface. My personal favorite element is the neurotic Santa Claus, too nervous to eat, forced by his nagging wife to pack on the pounds, disinterested in the traditional Christmas shenanigans. You wouldn’t think a holiday could be cancel because of the weather but I imagine this Santa Claus was probably looking for an excuse. The Island of Misfit Toys is an especially whimsical touch, though I can’t see any kid turning their noses up at a spotted elephant plushy. Yukon Cornelius is probably the most honestly amusing thing about “Rudolph,” his clueless blustering providing a lot of entertainment. His sled dogs being made of tiny breeds like a dashaund or a poodle is a cute visual joke. It’s endearing characters is probably the real reason “Rudolph” has stayed afloat in the pop culture sphere for so long.

But that’s not the weirdness I’m talking about. The hour-long special is concerned with outsiders and goes to, sometimes, unintentionally hilarious lengths to make this point. As far as birth defects go, a shiny nose doesn’t seem especially deforming. Don’t tell that to Donner, who is chastising his son minutes after birth, or Rudolph’s couch or classmates, who mock him mercilessly. Even Santa is horrified by Rudolph’s red nose. Similarly, Hermie’s desire to practice dentistry is met with aghast, exaggerated horror. (Though maybe his reaction is because stuffed animals with teeth are terrifying.) The point is: Every authority figure in this kid’s program is a total ass. Maybe it’s just this modern viewpoint of mine but I can’t help but pick up on some unintentional commentary on prejudice. Hermie and Rudolph are rejected by their society for being different and immediately find a kinship with each other. And what’s the first thing the effeminate Hermie does upon meeting Rudolph? Mount him. Later, the two share a bed together. That’s taking it too far but I couldn’t help but notice. Clarice’s parents disapprove vehemently of her relationship with Rudolph, much like how you’d expect a Southern family to react when their daughter brings home a black boy. And, much like in real life, the Santa society has no interest in Rudolph until his deformity proves useful, an unusually honest lesson to teach kids.

I know I’m reading too much into it. “Rudolph” probably endears because of its colorful characters, ear-worm-y music (even the numbers that have little effect on the story), and the charmingly stiff animation and character designs. The humor is undeniably corny, the story predictable, and, even at only an hour, the pacing drags a little in the middle. Still, you can’t watch something every year of your life without finding something of note in it… [6.5/10]

Invader ZIM: "The Most Horrible X-Mas Ever"

“Invader ZIM” was, for a while anyway, the reigning animated cult classic. Canceled after a season and a half for skewering closer to teens then Nickelodeon's target seven-to-ten crowd, the show posthumously found a following among mall Goths and animation nerds. At one point, like half of the shit Hot Topic sold was devoted to the show, even with it being off the air for several years. Despite still beautiful animation and an enormously talented voice cast, the show hasn’t aged the best. At its worse, “Invader ZIM” is unbearably shouty and random-for-random’s sake. However, when the series was good, it was delightfully odd, packed with unexpected meanness and bizarre pop culture parody. “The Most Horrible X-Mas Ever,” the series’ final episode and holiday special, is a good example of that prevailing attitude.

The episode’s premise starts out with a familiar outline before heading off in an expectantly oddball direction. Fish-out-of-water, would-be alien conqueror Zim hears about Christmas and Santa Claus for the first time, devising a scheme that takes advantage of the world’s love of the holiday. After sucking Christmas info out of a mall Santa’s brain, he creates a bio-mechanic Santa suit and sets about earning the world’s love, all in order to teleport the masses back to his alien home world. As his plot comes unusually close to succeeding, series anti-hero Dib finds himself in the position of having to save the world by destroying Santa Claus and ruining Christmas. For those unfamiliar with “Invader ZIM,” this is a fairly typical set-up.

The best parts of “The Most Horrible X-Mas Ever” is the sheer amount of inappropriate shit Jhonan Vasquez and his writers sneaked into this. The episode features not-really-subtle-at-all jabs at Christianity. Santa “returns to his people,” direct quote, to bring hope and cheer. The world follows him mindlessly, so desperate to believe in anything that they don’t notice their supposed Santa is, obviously, a malevolent alien from space. The episode goes even further, Santa-Zim’s flag featuring a candy cane swastika. The hero being forced to destroy Santa with a missile-spewing giant robot is subversive enough but his mad scientist dad comes prepared with an anti-Santa arsenal, preparing for years to destroy Santa and Christmas. The episode even throws in blatant references to decidedly-not-kid-friendly subject matter like “Neon Genesis Evangelion” and, hilariously, David Cronenberg’s “The Fly.” The expected plot line of Zim’s Santa suit absorbing too much Christmas cheer and turning good even goes dark, with Santa becoming a giant, spider-like eldritch abomination… Which bleeds cranberry juice upon defeat. This is amazingly fucked-up for a kid’s series.

Among Zim and GIR screaming incoherently, there is some truly inspired absurdity. The most memorable moment involves the fascist Christmas Carol, “Jolly Boots of Doom.” There are small, hugely amusing bits like Zim’s recollections of inventing the suit, someone being imprisoned in a candy cane “Jingle Jail,” and the futuristic framing device of a grumpily dead-pan robot snowman. Richard Horvitz’ typically fearless vocal performance turns a number of tiny lines, like “Oh yeah!,” into total hilarity, while Andy Berman and Rodger Bumpass have fun screaming their lungs off. It’s a funny episode and nice counter-programming to your usual Christmas fare. It’s a shame Jhonen Vasquez is such a misanthropic, hateful prick and has done nothing but collect residuals from this show over the last decade. In a time when “Adventure Time” can become a pre-fab hit, the world is finally ready for “Invader ZIM.” [7/10]

Christmas 2013: December 9th

For years now, I’ve been wanting to do a Christmas movie month-long marathon, much like what I do for Halloween during September and October. I don’t love Christmas as much as I love Halloween. Truthfully, there aren’t many things I love more then Halloween. However, much like everyone else, there are certain films, holiday specials, and TV episodes I try to watch around December. I do this because I’m brutally committed to holiday traditions but also because it helps me get in the Christmas spirit. Like just about every adult, I imagine, Christmas is a holiday fraught with regrets. Over not enjoying the holiday as much as I did as a child, over the end of the year coming and not accomplishing many of the things I had hoped to. There’s not a lot I can do to change this but I try to get in the festive mood, some years more then others.

Halloween is mainly an excuse for me to indulge my love of horror movies even more then I normally do. I watch a lot of different things. Christmas, on the other hand, is a month for revisiting perennial classics. The holiday isn’t complete without seeing certain films. Because of this, my little marathon is unlikely to be reoccurring. It's also going to be nowhere near as planned out as my Halloween marathon. Don't expect daily updates. (Though I'll try.) Still, it’ll be a way for me to observe why Christmas means as much to me as it does and to write about and expound on some classic and not-so-classic yuletide entertainment.

The Snowman (1982)

There are a few Christmas holiday specials I love unconditionally and have for years. I’ll be talking about a lot of them this December. Maybe more then any other, at the top of my list of beloved Christmas classics, is “The Snowman.” Let me pause for some tedious autobiographical information. As a very young child, at some point, I acquired a tape of Christmas specials recorded off of television. Even though this was technically seasonal watching, I would watch the tape incessantly all throughout the year. Featured on this tape was “The Snowman.” How a program produced for British television wound up on the same VHS as the “Garfield” Christmas special or “Ziggy’s Gift,” I couldn’t tell you. What I can tell you is that, according to both parents, I would sit and watch the short in total rapt silence, mesmerized for twenty minutes.

It’s no wonder why. “The Snowman” is incredibly beautiful. The film is completely without dialogue, instead relying on music and images. The film begins with Raymond Briggs, the author of the original comic that is faithfully adapted here, walking across a field, talking about a magical winter of his childhood. From there, the picture transfer to animation. The film’s animation is elegant and fluid, like a painting moving to life. The colors are subdued, the scope wide and sweeping. The characters are minimalistic and simple, marking the story as an archetypal one that could happen to any little boy. Visually, it’s still a spellbinding experience.

The opening narration, the only spoken dialogue in the film, refers to the winter as dream-like in its stillness. Similarly, the story operates on a dream-like logic. There’s no explanation for why the snowman the boy built during the day springs to life at night. The boy accepts it at face value and so should the audience. Smiling and curious, the Snowman explores the home. Favorite moments, ones that have stuck with since I was little, include the Snowman replacing his nose with other fruit in the kitchen, having a relaxing sit in the large chest freezer, and dancing around the boy’s bedroom with his favorite teddy bear. The only scenes that might have you questioning the reality of the situation is how the parents are awoken by the commotion, especially when the boy and the Snowman sneak into their bedroom, the Snowman trying on the father’s suspenders and bifocals.

A midnight motorcycle ride across the snowy forest might raise some questions too, if it weren’t so beautiful to look at. The point-of-view shots of snow-covered trees rolling by are tranquil and haunting, as is a sudden appearance by a fox. This sequence is build-up for the film’s most notable moment. Looking to the sky, his smile turning into a calm realization, the Snowman grabs the boy’s hand. They make a running start before leaping into the air. The two fly across the night sky, joined momentarily by other magical snowmen, flying above a Christmas party, sleeping children, confused penguins, and an enormous whale. The sequence plays out against the song, “Walking in the Air.” The combination of haunting melody and flowing, gorgeous visuals had a profound effect on me as a child. It continues to be impressive. I always remember the film ending with this sequence. It’s not that the visit with Santa Claus that follows is forgettable. It’s actually quite charming, especially when the boy and his Snowman join a dance of snowmen from all over the world, representing other cultures. It’s just that the flying scene is so memorable, so outstanding, it obscures the rest of the film.

“The Snowman” is more then just a Christmas special. Unlike most seasonal programs, it acknowledges the bitter sweetness of the holiday. The ending recognizes the joys of childhood as short-lived ones. The sun comes up the next morning, the boy discovering the Snowman’s melted remains. However, just before the credits roll, he removes the scarf he received from Santa the night before, confirming the events as actual. The playfulness of childhood might be temporary but we can always revisit it in our memories. The credits are preceded by a title card saying “The Snowman Was.” Obviously, this is simply setting up the directorial and creative credits. However, it always spoke of something else to me. “Was,” past-tense. It’s gone now. “The Snowman” was nominated for a short film Oscar the year it was released. I don’t know what it lost against but I can’t imagine that film is anywhere near as good. “The Snowman” is essential Christmas viewing for me. The season can’t really start without it. [9/10]

TV Funhouse: "Christmas Day"

Completely shifting gears, here’s an episode of an obscure, short-lived, gleefully offensive TV series that frequently engaged in bad-taste-for-bad-taste’s-sake humor. Ostensibly a demented parody of ancient children’s programming, the series followed clueless kid show host Doug and his band of badly behaved quasi-realistic animal puppets, peppered with pop culture-parodying cartoons and unrelated comedy sketches. Bestiality, religion, sex, drugs, cannibalism, masturbation and coprophagia were common subjects. Sometimes, I wonder if series creator Robert Smigel didn’t have a glance into my brain. I felt that way as a twelve year old in 2000 and I feel that way now. The show’s mean-spirited mixture of debauchery, absurdity, puppets, and loose pop culture skewering is such a unique style, and one so much like my own, that I can’t help but wonder if Smigel is a time-traveled displaced version of myself or something.

“Christmas Day” is one of the best episodes of the series, a consistently hilarious bit of irrelevant holiday awfulness. The story revolves around host Doug coming home to the clubhouse full of holiday cheer. The AniPals, always sensing an opportunity to make some cash, strap the all-too-willing Doug down and (painfully) extract the “Cheer” from his spine, paralyzing the guy. After getting incredibly high on the cocaine-like Cheer, they turn around and sell the substance, leading to a debauched sex party. The lasting effects of the drug interrupt their traditional Christmas day activities rather horrifically. You probably figured out if this show was for you halfway through the third sentence of this paragraph.

What’s the most hilarious moment in “Christmas Day?” There are so many. The show-within-the-show short segments are well remembered and this episode’s “Tingles, the Christmas Tension” is a brilliant parody of vintage Christmas programming as well as, all too accurately, illustrating the anxieties of the holiday. I also love the brief bit, “Places to Look for Your Christmas Present,” which is a good example of this show’s particular strain of absurd humor. However, my heart belongs to the AniPals and their antics. The puppets, hopped up on holiday cheer, go around New York, badgering what I can only hope were real people with the most belligerent, unhinged versions of Christmas carols imaginable. The reaction from these normal folks to a bunch of animal puppets screaming in their faces is divergent and hysterical. One man smiles, bemused, standing and taking it. One Asian couple walks away, smiling in awkward confusion. Another man tries to turn the moment into a religious sermon but is shouted down. Some simply turn and walk away, the AniPals screaming at the cowards in rage. All of this is cut with the animals performing a rendition of the Bangles’ “Hazy Shade of Winter.” It is, in as few words as possible, art.

There’s more too. The clearly artificial AniPals frequently interact with very confused seeming real animals. Because a puppet lamb shitting on someone is much less funny then a real life lamb shitting on someone, completely unannounced. The drug-fueled sex binge that follows is fairly amusing but the next day is even better. Still tripping balls on Cheer, a sheep puppet goes to his gig as a mall Santa, which ends with him mistaking a (real life) kitten for a delicious sprout of grass. Or how about goose Jeffy going to his kid’s Christmas pageant, screaming obscenities in the church? Or his brief encounter with a bearded version of his future self, a hilarious bit that has to be seen to appreciate? Or Xabu the Dog, always on a manic quest to capture his own tail, lulling the tail into a false sense of security by watching the most traumatizing part of “It’s a Wonderful Life” together? Or Doug’s attempts to decorate the clubhouse, despite his sudden inability to feel his legs? I could go on and on. “TV Funhouse” was a special, uniquely deranged television series, too good for this fair Earth. There might not be a more demented episode then “Christmas Day.” I will never stop loving it. [9/10]

Series Report Card: Disney Animated Features (2013)

52. Frozen

Animation is more of a business now then it’s ever been. Every month, a new CGI cartoon is crapped out, many of them unmitigated shit. Witness last month’s “Free Birds” and next month’s “The Nut Job.” In this increasingly crowded market place, how does Disney get their Animated Features to stand out? The most iconic of animation studios still has one ace up their sleeve. Nobody has the claim to animated adaptations of classic fairy tales like Disney. Other studios either have to parody the classics, like in the lucrative and increasingly mediocre “Shrek” franchise, or are dismissed as imitators to the throne. This is why “Tangled” was an event while “Wreck-It Ralph” or “Winnie the Pooh” were (unfairly) overlooked. As a life-long lover of Disney’s traditional adaptations, I found myself far more excited for “Frozen” then someone my age perhaps should be.

“Frozen” started life as an adaptation of Hans Christian Anderson’s “The Snow Queen,” an adaptation of which Disney has been kicking around since 1943. It spent so many years in rewrites, turn-around, and development hell that the final product resembles the original story in only the barest way. The story centers on two sister princesses, naturally, of a Norwegian-inspired kingdom in a vaguely 19th century time period. Anna is a normal little girl while Elsa was born with the ability to control ice and snow. After an accident involving her powers, the older sister withdraws from her life. Even further after the king and queen die. (Naturally.) After a life time of withdrawn, Elsa on her coronation as queen looses control of her power in public, retreating to a shelter in the mountains, forcing Anna to go after her. A love story involving a prince, a pauper, and at least two comic relief animal sidekicks (Naturally!) follows.

“Tangled,” which “Frozen” is blatantly modeled after in its character designs and style, distinguished itself from previous fairy tales with its focus on humor and action-adventure. “Frozen,” perhaps more interestingly, instead subverts conventions in its story. The film does feature a love story between a princess and a prince, as well as a villain. However, the movie isn’t really about either of those things. Instead the focus is squarely on the relationship between the two sisters. Anna’s love for her sister and Elsa coming to grips with her isolation and self-loathing are what drive the story. Even when the two split apart, Anna reaching out for her sister’s love is what informs the entire film. In a time when women’s role in pop culture is under more focus then ever, this is an especially bold, logical move. It roots all the comedy and high-level hijacks in an emotional truth. More importantly, both are lovable characters. Anna is clumsy and awkward, making her relatable and likable. Elsa, meanwhile, has a character arc that the viewer quickly becomes invested in.

Another clear influence “Tangled” had on this film is in its love story. The relationship between princess-on-an-adventure Anna and simple ice farmer Kristoff is model obviously on Rapunzel and Flynn Rider’s relationship. The two band together strictly out of necessity. They snipe at each other with sarcasm. However, as their adventure goes on, a bond is formed. Neither exactly realizes how important they are to each other until a key moment at the end of the second act. The characters have a nice chemistry, even if voice performers Kristen Bell and Jonathan Groff don’t have the repor that Mandy Moore and Zachary Levi had in the latter film. Certainly more so then Anna has with Prince Hans, her other love interest, which turns out to be intentional. Thankfully, the film doesn’t play up a cheap love triangle and it also knows when to shift the focus back to the two sisters.

But what about the humor and action-adventure? Ever since “The Little Mermaid,” every Disney Animated Feature has to have at least two comic relief animal sidekicks. Here, we get two. Kristoff has his reindeer Sven which, like “Tangled’s” Maximus, acts a lot a dog. Kristoff and the creature play each other nicely, the man frequently voicing the animal’s thoughts and concerns. Sven is cute and all but is quickly overshadowed by the film’s other comic relief, Olaf the Snowman. The character is voiced by Josh Gad, whom I’ve never particularly liked, always considering him a louder, more obnoxious Jonah Hill. However, Olaf turns out to be a brilliant comedic device. A snowman who loves summer and the sun could have been a one-note joke. Instead, Olaf is most characterized by his unfailing optimism. When walking through a giant ice sickle or attacked by a giant snow monster, Olaf remains upbeat and happy. Gad frequently delivers his line in a hilarious deadpan manner. The character’s status as a snowman allows him to be gleefully dismembered, which proves a surprisingly durable comic device. Olaf is a lovable, inspired critter and one of the film’s best elements.

The big action set pieces emerge organically out of the material, while also being exciting and memorable in their own way. Which is all you can ask for when it comes to action scenes. A sled chase from a pack of wolves humorously reflects on our characters’ personalities while placing the camera directly at the front of sled both involves the audience in the scene and makes great use of 3D. The big fight with the ice golem is nicely orchestrated, making good use of the film’s visual scope. The finale, a race across a crumbling ice lake, is certainly exciting stuff, especially when a shifting, crashing ship is involved. Maybe “Tangled” made better use of its action scenes but “Frozen” certainly shows the Disney team evolving when blending genres.  

What I’m most pleased about concerning the newest wave of Disney features is that so many of them are openly, undeniable a musical. If there’s one thing where “Frozen” is obviously inferior compared to its immediate predecessors, it’s the music. The songs are written by Robert Lopez, famed songwriter of ribald Broadway hits “Avenue Q” and “The Book of Mormon,” and Kristen Anderson-Lopez, who also worked on 2011’s “Winnie the Pooh.” The Lopez duo writes in a conversational style that frequently characterizes Broadway musicals… That I don’t like. Instead of the songs being solo numbers, the cast of “Frozen” sing dialogue back and forth a few times. It takes a minute to get use to and is sometimes deployed awkwardly, “Do You Want to Build a Snowman?” being the most obvious example of this. The lyrics are sometimes awkward as well, trying too hard to squeeze in wacky, comedic one-liners. The biggest mistake a musical can be is songs that don’t advance the plot. “Frozen,” disappointingly, suffers from this. Olaf’s number “In Summer” is cute but derails the story. Even worse is the number from the Norwegian trolls, “Fixer Upper,” which stops the plot dead in its place. It even winds up costing the characters precious time. It’s not a bad number but probably should have been excised.

Anna’s “I Want” theme “For the First Time in Forever” and romantic duo “Love is an Open Door” are fun. They don’t stop the plot, are perfectly listenable, but aren’t hugely memorable. The only time the music of “Frozen” really comes alive is Elsa’s big solo number, “Let It Go.” And, oh man, is that one awesome. It’s a first time Elsa comes out of her shell as a character, breaking loose for the first time. The music is uplifting and powerful, even the overly simple lyrics not distracting from the strength of the song. Idina Menzel not only sings the songs fantastically but incorporates her performance into the music. The audience is as uplifted by the number as the character is. The Academy notoriously goes for the big love ballads but Disney seems to be, rightfully, positioning “Let It Go” as their Oscar-favorite, given pop star Demi Lovato’s over-the-credits rendition. If the AMPAS known what they’re doing, they’ll agree.

Not quite a year ago, I predicted that the icy, snow-covered landscapes of “Frozen” would look gorgeous in full CGI on the big screen. Yep. “Let It Go” proves a stand-out for another reason. During the sequence, Elsa raises her ice palace from the mountain side. The clear, angled ice emerging from the snow sure looks pretty. That shimmering, crystal clear ice proves visually lovely, something the film takes full advantage of. Frozen fountain waters and crystal chandeliers prove especially memorable. Naturally, sympathetic weather is a reoccurring feature of the movie. The snow storm at the climax stands out for me, the characters appearing as specks among the huge walls of white. Animated films continue to be the sole sure-bet for 3D viewings and Disney knew that. “Frozen” looks beautiful and the depth of the frame are especially well-suited to 3D presentation. The amusingly-meta, fourth wall breaking CGI Mickey Mouse short, “Get a Horse,” that precedes the film does too, characters literally running around towards the audience.

You’re likely to see the conclusion to “Frozen” coming but, at the very least, the film earns that emotion. A likable cast, lovely visual presentation, and great sense of humor makes the film a pleasant viewing experience. The story attempts to push Disney forward into new territory, and mostly succeeds, which is film’s biggest attribute. It’s not quite as good as “Tangled” or “Princess and the Frog.” However, it’s another good effort from the Mouse Factory. John Lasseter-era Disney continues to make good films, doing their best to reestablishes the studio’s legacy. [Grade: B+]