IT HAPPENED ON 5TH AVENUE (1947): A LOST CHRISTMAS CLASSIC FOUND

In 1948 two Christmas movies were among the nominees for Best Story at the 20th Academy Awards: Miracle on 34th Street and It Happened on 5th Avenue. The former won the award and went on to become a yearly Christmas standard. The latter disappeared from television after 1990. An online fanbase brought the film back from anonymity and now enjoys yearly showings on TCM (and is currently available to stream on HBO Max.)

Many viewers recognize a similarity between It Happened on 5th Avenue and the sort of pictures Frank Capra made. Capra noticed too and nearly directed the film, but chose It’s a Wonderful Life instead. Fewer mention the movie’s similarities to A Christmas Carol. This one lacks ghosts, time travel, and, humbugs, but the central character undergoes a transformation and redemption comparable with Scrooge's. 

Charles Ruggles (the grandpa in the original Parent Trap) plays Michael J. O’Connor, the second richest man in the world. O’Connor is a decent guy but self-centered, focused more on tearing down abandoned army barracks than his daughter and wife (well, ex-wife now). Every winter O’Connor goes to Virginia, leaving his swanky Fifth Avenue mansion unoccupied. Unbeknownst to him, that’s when Aloysius T. McKeever (Victor Moore) moves in. 

 

McKeever is a convivial and cavalier hobo, a homeless man-about-town, who partakes in his taste for finer things by living in the empty mansions of New York City’s vacationing billionaires. McKeever eats their food, sleeps in their beds, and dons their fancy clothing. This year, he invites a homeless solider, Jim Bullock (Don De Fore), to stay with him at O’Connor’s mansion. Bullock was evicted from his apartment after O’Connor bought the building to tear it down. 

Just as McKeever and Jim settle into the lap of luxury, more outcasts join them. Jim invites his army buddies, wives and kids included, to stay at the mansion for Christmas when they can’t find affordable lodgings. Jim and McKeever also welcome in a beautiful young woman, Trudy. As happens in these movies, Jim and Trudy fall in love.

But Trudy’s got a secret: she’s actually O’Connor’s daughter, on the run from boarding school. She wants certainty that Jim loves her for her and not for her dad’s money. So when O’Connor flies back to New York in search of her, Trudy persuades him to play the part of a homeless man. McKeever “allows” O’Connor (or Mike as he’s known in the house) to stay at the mansion, unaware of O’Connor’s true identity. O’Connor becomes a sort of housekeeper, washing dishes and making beds, subservient to all the interlopers in his own mansion. O’Connor the rich man now becomes the servant to McKeever the poor man. 

That’s when the movie finds its sparkle and O’Connor finds his path to redemption. Forced to live like a poor man, surrounded by those less fortunate than himself, O’Connor learns to see them as people, even friends. Much like Scrooge, O’Connor worldview expands and so too does his empathy and his generosity. 

Screenwriter Everett Freeman tries to position Jim and Trudy’s romance into the film’s center. De Fore and Storm’s chemistry is light and serviceable even when their performances feel slight and forgettable. Storm owns one pronounced scene where Trudy tearfully confides to her father about her lonely and friendless life. But De Fore and Storm are outshone at every turn by Ruggles and Moore. Individually, they give  multifaceted performances, equally funny and eccentric, but also tender and downhearted. Together they are sensational. 

If Ruggles plays the movie’s soul, Moore represents the heart. His gentle prodding and simple thinking guides and inspires the eclectic band of lost souls to grasp for life and it’s many basic pleasures. While he serves as a beacon for the others to strive for, he is paradoxically a cautionary tale of a life lived alone. McKeever usually stays in the mansion alone. This Christmas he opens “his doors” to others and realizes he’s much better off in the company of new friends. 

Director Roy Del Ruth, who earned his stripes making early silent films, handles the Capra-esque material with sensitivity. In 1947, this subject matter was topical and very real for many. Former World War II G.I.s and their families faced housing shortages while living in the looming shadows of mansions, owned by multimillionaires in New York and Palm Beach. Del Ruth and Freeman strike the right balance of situational humor and socioeconomic concern. They do not take the subject matter glibly. 

The movie was produced by Allied Artists Productions, a new division of Monogram Pictures. Long associated with cheap westerns and low-budget horror movies, Monogram hoped that It Happened on 5th Avenue would elevate the studio from their “Poverty Row” reputation. Most Monogram movies were budgeted at $90,000. It Happened on 5th Avenue was budgeted $1.2 million and earned $1.8 million at the box office. (Today, Monogram Pictures is remembered only for its cheaply made movies.) 

Despite a slightly overlong running time and a story that nowadays might feels more sitcom than cinema, It Happened on 5th Avenue remains a deliciously entertaining Christmas movie. Be on the look out for Alan Hale, Jr. (the Skipper from Gilligan’s Island) and Charles Lane (a character actor whose career went for 72 years). This underrated Christmas gem, populated by quirky and eccentric characters, is richened by the trite but true belief that richness and poorness are not assessed by money alone. 

-T.Z. 

CRICKET ON THE HEARTH (1967): A RARE RANKIN/BASS MISFIRE

After Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer but before Frosty the Snowman, Rankin/Bass produced Cricket on the Hearth, a very rare misfire for the company. Loosely inspired by Charles Dickens’s novella, this 1967 television special follows a talking cricket (Roddy McDowell) as he helps an impoverished toymaker (Danny Thomas) and his blind daughter (Marlo Thomas). 

The screenplay is sloppily constructed, disjointed, and uncentered. A feature film’s worth of materials get crammed into a 49 minute runtime and a continual barrage of crummy, forgettable songs slow the already languorous pace. The animation looks cheap, clunky, and stilted. Too many harsh and garish hues comprise the sickening color palette. 

Comedian Danny Thomas gives a phony and unconvincing vocal performance. His singing comes from another era and should stay there. Marlo Thomas (Danny’s real life daughter) is unmemorable like the movie itself. McDowell does his best with a rudderless script and dead dialogue. His counterfeit cockney accent eventually grates on the ears. The only listenable voice acting comes from Hans Conried (voice of Disney’s Captain Hook) and Paul Frees (a legendary voice actor, look him up.)

A bizarre scene involving the Cricket getting expositional assistance from living toys, who are forbidden from revealing their sentience to humans, eerily echoes Toy Story a few decades later.  

Cricket on the Hearth is an inept, clumsy, and snoozy waste of precious mortal time. This cricket is a humbug. 

-T.Z. 

3 ESSENTIAL A CHRISTMAS CAROLS

Few literary characters are continually adapted into movies more than Ebenezer Scrooge (and Sherlock Holmes, Dracula, and Frankenstein’s monster). A Christmas Carol has been musicalized, animated, and reimagined dozens and dozens and dozens of times over the years. The first cinematic treatment of Charles Dickens’s classic story dates back to a 1901 British silent film. Everyone from Basil Rathbone to Fred Flintstone has brought Scrooge to life. 

The 1951 version, known as A Christmas Carol in the US and as Scrooge in the UK, remains the high-water mark for Christmas Carol adaptations. Alistair Sim’s performance as Scrooge is the one that all others are compared to. Here are 3 more versions that I consider “essential” for any fans of the Dickens story. (Are there other really good ones? Of course. But I’m only picking these.)

A CHRISTMAS CAROL (1984) 

Some consider this, not the ’51 version, the definitive production of A Christmas Carol. I am less enchanted by this made-for TV movie than others are, but George C. Scott’s intelligent performance makes this adaptation standout and qualify as essential.

Scott displays several unique acting choices, subtle but distinctive. Rather than the bitter and snarling approach most actors take, Scott plays Scrooge as more burnt-out, tired, and disinterred in life, deeply sad and lonely. In a way comparable to Bill Murray’s performance in Scrooged, Scott’s displays a wicked and dark sense of humor, guffawing at the thought of a merrymaker buried with a stake of holly plunged in their heart. 

Instead of a crotchety miser, Roger O. Hirson’s screenplay refocuses Scrooge as a shrewd businessman, a commodities merchant rather than a moneylender. At the London Exchange, he charges three other businessmen an extra 5% for corn, despite their protesting that the poor will suffer from Scrooge’s inflated price. This Scrooge is also an intellectual. He talks of his childhood love for reading and literature, and bristles when Fred’s guests struggle playing a word game involving intricate similes. 

Even in the best adaptations, Scrooge eventually becomes a passive protagonist, standing idly by as scenes unfold around him. He watches and listens, but does little else. This version puts forth a perfect remedy: Scrooge stays active through his obstinate attempts to interact and argue with the characters he encounters, despite his being invisible. 

Hirson’s screenplay includes several interesting additions that provide new in-roads into Scrooge’s character. Most notably, Scrooge’s unloving father makes a physical appearance, rather than simply referred to as in most adaptations. Despite the capable hand of director Clive Donner, who served as film editor on the 1951 version, the cast gives mostly unmemorable performances compared to Scott’s, and the production design looks far too clean and polished. Nevertheless, this remains an essential version of A Christmas Carol for displaying how unique acting choices can provide unique characterizations, even for a well-worn character like Ebenezer Scrooge. 

THE MUPPET CHRISTMAS CAROL (1992) 

For a certain generation, this remains the end-all-be-all of Charles Dickens movies. Possibly, Mr. Dickens himself would even agree. Despite a roster of frogs, pigs, rats, and bears, The Muppet Christmas Carol is one of the most authentic representations of Charles Dickens’s original words. Screenwriter Jerry Juhl (the Muppets’s top writer, dating back to The Muppet Show) hit upon an absolutely brilliant storytelling conceit. By casting Gonzo as the narrator in the form of Dickens himself, Juhl finds a natural way to quote the Dickens text verbatim on screen. 

In the tradition of Mister Magoo’s Christmas Carol and Mickey’s Christmas Carol, this iteration takes Muppet characters and plugs them perfectly into the Dickens roles. Kermit the Frog as Bob Cratchit unceremoniously appears in the background of a shot as if he were a regular “actor”. Likewise, Miss Piggy as Mrs. Cratchit doesn’t appear until 53 minutes in and no effort is made to expand her part just because she’s Miss Piggy. The Dickens text receives total respect from the filmmakers and the Muppets. The seriousness in which they all take this project generates the humor. 

There exists no more salient example of this than Sir Michael Caine’s performance. He plays the part like he would with the Royal Shakespeare Company. He remains totally committed to giving the audience a complete experience, grounded in a reality that tethers down the outrageousness of acting alongside felt. To him, Kermit isn’t a piece of green cloth with some bearded guy’s hand crammed up his keister. Kermit is just another actor and Caine’s absolute dedication to this makes the entire production gel,  providing legitimacy to the mixing of flesh and blood actors with Muppet actors. 

Of course there’s the wry, self-aware humor that makes the Muppets the Muppets. Like Rizzo ragging on the all-knowing Charles “Gonzo” Dickens for being a “hoity-toity, Mr. Godlike smarty pants” or Statler and Waldorf mocking Scrooge’s bad pun (a cheeky dig at a Dickens quote involving “grave” and “gravy”.) These moments allow for the Muppets’s tone without undercutting Dickens. Most amazingly, The Muppet Christmas Carol manages to retain genuinely scary moments, like Scrooge’s door-knocker morphing into the visage of his dead partner and the hooded wraith specter of the Ghost of Christmas Future. The scares are brought to just the right point before the Muppets puncture the bleakness with a well-placed, reassuring laugh. 

But The Muppet Christmas Carol is probably most beloved for its musical score. The multitalented Paul Williams (another longtime Muppet collaborator) created one of the most effective scores for a musical film. I often find myself unconsciously humming the songs throughout the year, whether winter or summer. Original tunes like “One More Sleep Til Christmas”, “It Feels Like Christmas”, and “Thankful Heart” remain as strong and emotionally evocative as any Victorian Christmas carols. 

Another song, “When Love is Gone”, was infamously extricated from the original release when the studio felt kids in the test audiences were bored by it. For many years, the song was found only on certain DVD releases, as part of an extended cut or as a bonus scene. Recently, Disney+ restored “When Love is Gone” to the film. You will find the “full length version” under the extras section.  The song is a mature, textured, and stirringly painful dirge for lost love. Its inclusion only enhances an already wonderful and cherished version of Dickens’s beloved story. 

A CHRISTMAS CAROL (1999) 

This made-for TV movie starring Patrick Stewart aired on the TNT Network on December 5, 1999 and hasn’t received much love since. I don’t understand it. Apart from the 1951 version, this is my unrivaled favorite. The movie holds a special place for me as the first “grown-up” Christmas Carol I ever watched. 

I vividly remember purchasing my VHS copy at the Paramus Park Mall and going to my cousin’s house to watch it. It was the most frightening movie I ever saw. Despite being co-produced by Hallmark Productions, this version of A Christmas Carol is the antithesis of all those syrupy and sugary Hallmark Christmas movies. I never visited Victorian London, but I imagine this iteration comes the closest to what life would look and feel like. 

The production design captures the grim and filthy dankness, reproducing the aura conjured by Dickens’s words. The streets look cold and sound sloshing with slushy snow. Scrooge’s office feels old and moldy, and his chambers slick with ages of dust, just as his nephew describes them. In some versions of A Christmas Carol, including the 1951 version, the Cratchit home appears too spacious and bright. Here, their house is a cramped and cluttered squalor, making the family’s good-natured cheer, in the face of this impoverishment, all the more moving.  

The 1999 version features the most unflinching nihilistic tones and depictions. Like in the novella, but omitted from most film versions, the Ghost of Christmas Present takes Scrooge around the country to witness the sufferings and hardships of lighthouse workers, coal miners, and sailors. Unlike most Hollywood versions, the visits to the prisons, the grimy alleys, and the squalid dwellings for the destitute stay resolutely unglamorous. Even the actors, from main stars to background performers, look sickly and frail. 

The great Richard E. Grant gives the best portrayal of Bob Crotchet ever on film. His Cratchit is excruciatingly meek and terribly sensitive, endearing the audience to him instantly. His lanky and cadaverous body looks perfectly built for the part. His gaunt face displays the decades of hardships and the years of faking happy smiles for his penniless children. This Cratchit positively trembles whenever in Scrooge’s presence, but also retains a strong dignity. Grant nearly steals the show from Professor X himself with such a remarkable performance. 

Stewart was very familiar with the role of Ebenezer Scrooge. Throughout the 90s, he starred as Scrooge (and all the other characters) in a one-man show that he also wrote. This Scrooge does become too passive as the movie progresses, but Stewart adds some memorable nuances to his performance. He shows slight growing pains to Scrooge’s post-haunting behavior. 

In most adaptations, Scrooge immediately embraces his new generous ways and instantly gels with society. Here we see him wince when he offers to pay a boy a shilling, forgets to remove his top hat when he enters the church, and flounders when trying to sing the congregation’s Christmas hymns. It’s a smart differentiating choice on Stewart’s part, allowing us to witness logical trip-ups Scrooge will face as he lives his redeemed life. 

His Scrooge feels so unlike the others. Stewart’s Scrooge is strong and virile, tough as hell, steely, and unbreakable like a block of solid ice. When a young boy tries caroling out front of the counting house, you fear Scrooge might beat the shit out of the kid.

-T.Z. 

REMEMBER THE NIGHT (1940) -- CHRISTMAS MOVIE RECOMMENDATION

Remember the Night seems to possess the ingredients that should make the film a classic: 1) two classic Golden Age movie stars, Barbara Stanwyck and Fred MacMurray, 2) a quick-witted and touching screenplay by iconic writer/director Preston Sturges, and 3) a classic Christmas setting for classic Yuletide romance. And yet the movie still lingers in obscurity. 

MacMurray plays Jack Sargent, a morally upright New York City assistant district attorney. He is assigned to prosecute Lee Lander (Stanwyck), a world-weary shoplifter, just a few days before Christmas. Feeling guilty that she’ll spend the holidays in the hoosegow, Jack bails her out, and they embark on a roadtrip to his family’s cozy farm in Indiana. Lee is welcomed warmly and generously by his family, and she experiences what a loving home and family are truly like for the first time in her life.

As Jack and Lee fall in love, they both know that once the holidays end, they must return to the city and to the courthouse. Will Jack jeopardize his hard-earned career by throwing the case just so she can go free? And will Lee, softened by his unconditional kindness toward her, allow him to? 

Stanwyck exquisitely portrays the now-hackneyed stereotype of the hardened dame with a heart of marshmallow. Though she remains best remembered for her film noir femme fatales, Stanwyck carved out a nice little niche for playing lighthearted Christmas movies. MacMurray is the perfectly right type for the naive and honest D.A., whose pure goodwill toward Stanwyck comes with no strings attached.  The part had to be played by an actor, like McMurray, who was bland and sexually unthreatening; the audience never feels he’s taking this woman home for any lascivious reasons. 

Movie buffs will know that Stanwyck and MacMurray portrayed a very different “romantic couple” in Billy Wilder’s seminal film noir, Double Indemnity. That more renowned (and better-known) collaboration was their fourth and final onscreen coupling. Remember the Night was the first.

But a movie doesn’t run on big stars alone. Some absolutely splendid character actors help to create the film’s amiable and welcoming mood. Beulah Bondi plays MacMurray’s affectionate and fair-minded mother. She’s most loved for her role as another mother (James Stewart’s) in another Christmas classic: It’s a Wonderful Life. Elizabeth Patterson plays MacMurray’s spinster aunt. Patterson is best remembered by many as Lucy Ricardo’s upstairs neighbor on I Love Lucy. 

Playing MacMurray’s lovable hayseed buddy is Sterling Holloway. You won’t know his face. You might recognize his name. The second he opens his mouth, you’ll realize you’re greeting an old childhood friend. Not only did Holloway voice Kaa in Disney’s The Jungle Book and the stork in Dumbo, he was the original voice of Winnie-the-Pooh. 

Remember the Night became a crossroads for writer Preston Sturges. He was so pissed off by the cuts and deviations made to his screenplay (for this film and others that he wrote) that he became determined to maintain control of his work in the future. He succeeded, becoming one of the most acclaimed writer/directors in Hollywood, heralded for his screwball comedies like The Palm Beach Story, Sullivan’s Travels, and The Lady Eve (starring Stanwyck). 

His screenplay is a masterstroke blending of screwball zaniness with poignant drama. This is a compassionate story with genuine moral and emotional stakes; it’s witty and heartwarming without being smug or sappy, and simply spun without being simplistic.

Despite annual showings on TCM, the movie still remains a forgotten gem. But once you’ve seen Remember the Night, you are unlikely to forget it. 

-T.Z. 

THE FIRST CHRISTMAS: THE STORY OF THE FIRST CHRISTMAS SNOW (1975) -- CHRISTMAS MOVIE RECOMMENDATION

In spite of a cumbersome title, The First Christmas: The Story of the First Christmas Snow is a simply told 22-minutes with an above-average soundtrack, narrated by the late great Angela Lansbury. 

Sister Theresa (Lansbury) lives in an abbey near the sea where it never snows. While she and her fellow nuns are making Christmas cards, a young shepherd boy, Lukas, gets zonked in the noggin by lightning. They bring him into their abbey to recuperate and discover that the accident left him blind. To comfort him, Sister Theresa tells the boy of her childhood in the mountains where it snowed every Christmas. Lukas, an orphan, has never seen snow. 

He grows attached to Sister Theresa and wants to stay with her. Unfortunately, crab-ass Father Thomas (Cyril Ritchard) wants to kick Lukas out faster than you can say “there’s no room at the inn.” Sister Theresa convinces him to let Lukas stay until Christmas. While the other children prepare for the abbey’s Nativity pageant, Lukas dreams of staying with Sister Theresa and seeing his first white Christmas. 

A little too ooey-gooey in places and so sweet that the film will rot every tooth from your head. Still, Christmas is the time for dental decay. The story unfolds with kindness and affectionate, and the voice acting, especially from the child actors, is honest. Produced by Rankin/Bass, this is one of their most beautifully designed Christmas specials. Christmas cards are a recurring image in the story and the movie itself looks like one come to life. The musical score is surprisingly snappy. Lansbury’s magnificent rendition of Irving Berlin’s “White Christmas” is grossly underrated. 

Perhaps the most forgotten Rankin/Bass movie (they also made Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and Frosty the Snowman, among many others). The First Christmas aires infrequently on AMC nowadays, but once was the final Rankin/Bass special to air during the holiday season, back when CBS held the broadcast rights. The film moves at a clip and the musical score provides some alleviation to the syrupy sections. But any 22 minute film with Angela Lansbury singing and narrating is well worth your time to check out this year and every year. 

-T.Z. 

HOLIDAY AFFAIR (1949) -- CHRISTMAS MOVIE RECOMMENDATION

We have a weed bust to thank for Holiday Affair. This laid-back romantic comedy stars Robert Mitchum as an insouciant department store clerk, who falls in love with a single mother (Janet Leigh), already engaged to a dependable but vanilla lawyer (Wendell Corey). Mitchum was best known for his roles as tough guys and anti-heroes in film noir classics like Out of the Past, Crossfire, and a string of other hits for RKO Pictures. In 1948 his career took as hit following an arrest for marijuana possession. RKO studio head, Howard Hughes, used Holiday Affair to “sweeten up” Mitchum’s public image and rehabilitate his career.  

Mitchum plays Steve Mason, a World War II vet who dreams of one day being a boat builder. He works in the toy department of a large department store (noir fans will get a kick out of watching Mitchum in a monkey mask, goof around with some kids). One of his customers is Connie Ennis (Leigh). Steve immediately pegs her as a comparison shopper, working for the department store’s competitor. 

When softie Steve doesn’t turn her in to his superior, he’s fired. Feeling guilty, Connie takes Steve to lunch and an attraction develops between them. Steve also bonds to Connie’s six-year-old son, Timmy (Gordon Gebert). But there’s a problem: Connie’s long-time boyfriend, Carl, has asked her to marry him. Carl’s nice and reliable, but Connie isn’t in love with him. She’s still in love with her late husband, who died in the war. Though Carl is no match for a ghost, Steve just might be. Who will Connie choose this Christmas? 

Holiday Affair is safe and cliched. The film sticks tightly to the romantic comedy guidebook. Nothing unexpected transgresses, and that makes it so enjoyable, re-watchable, and extremely comforting. (key characteristics to create a classic Christmas movie). An at-times limp screenplay works best when it focuses on small moments and witty character interplay. The story posses no smugness; it embraces its frothiness.

The perfectly casted actors lift the movie up a few notches. Mitchum is excellent in this rare lighthearted performance. He appears perfectly at ease poking fun at his tough guy persona, making his character all the more delightful. He flips the soppy lovestruck rom-com male into a straight-talking no-bullshiter. His chemistry with Leigh fills in some of the film’s dull spots. 

Leigh was not yet a mother when she acted in Holiday Affair, but so truthfully portrays one. At only 22, Leigh perfectly underplays her character’s fear of attachment and unease at falling in love. Gordon Gebert gives one of the most excellent performances from a child actor in a comedy. In a rarity, he strikes a precocious tone without becoming irritating. Wendell Corey as the humdrum Carl makes you root against him while making you hate yourself for doing so. These are characters you want to spend the holiday with, portrayed by actors you’d invite for Christmas dinner. 

Mitchum’s career would rebound spectacularly, and he went onto make many more films (including another Christmas movie, Scrooged, where he played Bill Murray’s boss). Leigh, of course, gained cinematic immortality for her shower-death in Psycho. But Holiday Affair remains fairly unknown. Perhaps it’s not great enough to be a major Christmas classic, but surely it’s good enough to be a minor one. 

-T.Z. 

KLAUS (2019): A REFRESHING SPIN ON SANTA'S ORIGIN (REVIEW)

Despite an Oscar nomination, you’ve probably forgotten about Klaus, a 2019 animated Christmas film from Netflix. I must confess that I watched the movie when it premiered, but not in the two Christmas seasons since. That is a great shame because Klaus does something remarkable that most Christmas movies rarely achieve: it tells its plot refreshingly. It takes a story you know and spins it in a new, exciting way. The film offers enough quirkiness and subversions to jolly-up even the most Grinchiest of Netflix subscribers. Director Sergio Pablos does for Santa Claus what Christopher Nolan did for Batman — grounding the legendary figure with a plausible, real world derivation. And most refreshing of all, Pablos tells this story — which he created — with gorgeous traditional 2D animation. 

Surprisingly, Klaus is only partially Santa Claus Begins. We enter this world through Jesper Johansen (voiced by Jason Shwartzman), the spoiled and overprivileged son of the Postmaster General of some unnamed country in 19th century Scandinavia. Jesper is sort of a Nordic variation on Kuzco from The Emperor’s New Groove. He lounges, he sips espresso, and complains when they forget to put croutons onto his salads. Jesper lacks any interest in his studies at the Royal Postman’s Academy. 

Fed up with his son’s loafing, Dad ships his wayward son to the far-off Smeerensberg, an island midway to the North Pole, reachable only by ferryboat, captained by a surly local (voiced by Norm Macdonald in his final film role). The fog shrouded island is colored in different shades of gloom and grey, decorated with rotting fish parts and bones — animated so superbly, you can almost waft the briny stench.  

His father gives Jesper one year to process 6,000 letters through the Smeerensberg post office. If Jesper fails to meet the mandate, Dad is gonna kick his scrawny, entitled ass out into the cold without a penny of Dad’s Postmaster General money.  Arriving in town, in a sequence that feels more horror movie than Christmas movie, Jesper learns that the feuding island clans are too busy beating the shit out of one another to send letters much less write them. In fact, most of the kids here can’t even read or write; the local schoolteacher, Alva (a funny and touching performance from Rashida Jones), turned the schoolhouse into a fishmonger shop after the children became so busy slapping the snot out of other children that they had no time left for school. 

Mailing 6,000 letters in this place seems like a distant dream for Jesper. But his potential ticket back home arrives in the form of Klaus, a white-bearded lumberman, who lives alone in the forest with a workshop full of toys. But Klaus (voiced with perfection by J.K. Simmons) ain’t the St. Nick you see at the mall. He’s intimidating and threatening, with a potential antisocial personality disorder. Klaus’s only companion is a big, sharp axe he uses to cut down trees (when he’s not just using his burly, meaty mitts to rip them apart). After initially fleeing in terror, Jesper realizes he can use Klaus and his toys to his advantage and get the children letter-writing. 

He convinces the local kids that if they write letters to Klaus telling him about the good deeds they commit, Klaus will bring them toys. Despite his own self-centered interests, Jesper inadvertently foments the rise of kindness and selflessness among the young Smeerensbergians, a marked contrast to the hate and violence promulgated by their elders. Soon kids are doing acts of service for their neighbors, befriending their former enemies, and even return to school. 

The fun of Klaus is watching how the different tenets of the Santa Claus myth will fall into place without any supernatural or magical sources. Klaus offers up “believable” reasons for why Santa goes down chimneys, leaves coal for brats, and uses reindeer to pull his sleigh — all conjured up by Jesper and embellished by the children’s imaginations. This storytelling jumping off point, telling the origins of the myth of Santa Claus, rather than the origins of the man himself, makes Klaus such a unique and different Christmas tale. Some viewers might be turned off by the filmmakers attempts to ground Santa’s origins in “realism”, but make no mistake: this is “realism” filtered through the off-kilter prism of cartoon fantasy. (And yes, there’s some supernatural hugger-bugger lurking in the third act.) 

The filmmakers behind Klaus understand a core ingredient that makes any film a classic: it appeals to many kinds of people, kids and adults alike. Younger audiences will delight in the movie’s numerous visual gags, Looney Tunes-style physical humor, and some goofy side characters (especially the childish squabbling between the two elder clan leaders, voiced by Joan Cusack and Will Sasso, respectively.) The kids in the audience won’t spit out the film’s good-hearted message, crystallized by Klaus’s oft-repeated motto “a true selfless act always sparks another”, because the film doesn’t force feed it to them. 

As an adult, I took Klaus’s singular revisionist approach as a breath of fresh air. I was pleasantly surprised by the mix of funny one-note character types with fully dimensional ones (especially Klaus and Alva) who possess histories, traumas, and disappointments. Younger viewers may not fully comprehend Klaus’s grief and anger or relate to Alva’s disillusionment with her career and life, but one day they might. Regardless of age, all can appreciate the terrific voice acting. Simmons and Jones naturally convey their characters’ conflicted and torn souls, while Schwartzman provides charm and sympathy to a character who is an irritating pain in the ass. 

Klaus’s biggest success as an animated film rests in the animation. Much like the early production designs on Tim Burton films (which this movie owes a debt of inspiration to), you can see a still image from Klaus and not confuse it with any other animation. The designs are off-beat and idiosyncratic. They blend the kooky with the grotesque (Jesper’s legs are stick-like, and his nose resembles a water balloon, squeezed too tight at one end). The animators deftly use contrasts for both comedy and drama (Klaus is square and bulky; Jesper is narrow and gangly. The oversized and monosyllabic offspring of the clan leaders, Pumpkin and Olaf, are bossed about by their undersized and loquacious parents.)

The animators create an equally reimagined environment to befit such a reimagined narrative. The shimmering majesty of the Northern Lights are replaced by an omnipotent and foreboding fog that hangs in the sky. The glittering twinkle and hustle-bustle of elf-activity in Santa’s workshop becomes the serene, quiet, and lonely solitude of Klaus’s forest. Instead of suburban homes and reindeer stables are the ramshackle, dilapidated docks and shanties found in Smeerensberg. 

Pablos — who worked on Disney classics like Tarzan, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and Hercules before originating the story for Despicable Me— developed computer software to add texture to the hand-drawn animation, successfully blending old techniques with  new tools. And that achievement holds true in every aspect of the film: grafting a new vantage point onto an old, well-loved story. 

In spite of a few absolutely wretched moments where modern songs are used on the soundtrack (clearly momentary lapses in the filmmakers’ sanities), Klaus deserves to be in your annual Christmas movie rotation. I regret not watching it since 2019. I will not make that mistake again. 

-T.Z. 

WHATEVER HAPPENED TO THE LITTLE DRUMMER BOY?

In the early 90s, four of the Rankin/Bass-produced Christmas specials were re-released  on home video and promoted as classics: Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (1964), The Little Drummer Boy (1968), Frosty the Snowman (1969), and Santa Claus is Comin’ To Town (1970). These four “crown jewels” of Rankin/Bass were always shown several times on T.V. during the holiday season. But as time marched on, one of these disappeared from television and fell out of favor with Christmas-movie fans: The Little Drummer Boy. 

This year, the film aired on Freeform three times on two different days: 11/29/22 at 9:00am. 12/03/22 at 1:30am and 7:00am. Not exactly primetime showings, unlike Frosty and Rudolph, each getting primetime 8:00pm on CBS. In fairness, CBS doesn’t own the rights to Drummer Boy. But there are likely additional factors at play, reducing the film’s popularity. 

Unlike the easy to love Rudolph, Frosty, and Kris Kringle, Aaron the Drummer Boy, is a far darker and mature character that younger audiences might find off-putting or even disturbing. The Little Drummer Boy is one of the rare Christmas movies to feature an honest-to-goodness murder. Aaron’s parents are killed by bandits, who then burn Aaron’s home. Traumatized by his parent's death, Aaron eschews dressing up like a giant bat to protect the people of Gotham City. Instead, he vows to hate all human beings forever. Accompanied by three animal pals (a donkey, a lamb, and a camel), Aaron wanders the desert alone, banging his drum. The instrument creates an almost magical effect on the animals, causing them to dance. 

This catches the eye of Ben Haramad (voiced by Jose Ferrer, George Clooney’s uncle), a crooked desert showman. Haramad kidnaps Aaron and forces the angry little tyke to play for the crowds in Jerusalem. Then Haramad sells Aaron’s camel to one of Three Kings, who are shlepping across the desert and following some really bright star. After escaping from Haramad, Aaron sets off to rescue his camel by following the same star, which leads him to a manger in Bethlehem. Well, if you plan on going to Heaven, you know the rest of that story. 

Aaron’s tragic backstory provides little to soften him. He remains colorless and one note for much of the film, and it’s a note children are unlikely to respond to. A bullied reindeer or a funny snowman are more endearing characters than a whiny little brat with a drum. Revisiting The Little Drummer Boy as an adult, I appreciated Aaron’s darker characterization and was genuinely moved by his eventual rejection of hatred. As a kid, I had zero in interest in this special. 

The Little Drummer Boy has another point against it: the movie doesn’t feel very “Christmasy”.  It lacks a bright color palette. No greens, reds, or pristine whites. This world is painted with muted colors, greys and beiges. No fields of snow, only sand dunes. No chestnuts roasting on an open fire, only Aaron’s parents roasting to death in their burning farmhouse. This isn’t a white Christmas; this is a sandy one. 

The film print, used for DVDs and television broadcasts, exasperates the problem. It looks dank, cloudy, and cruddy. Unlike the most popular titles in Rankin/Bass’s library, The Little Drummer Boy never received a worthwhile restoration or digital clean-up, leaving the film with that off-putting murky dimness. There just hasn’t been enough interest from the public to warrant the money to spruce it up. 

But I think the most likely reasons for The Little Drummer Boy’s retreat from sight are socio-political and religious ones. The story transpires in the Middle East, a place of innumerable conflicts before and certainly after the short aired in 1968. Most obviously, the film depicts people of the Middle East in stereotypical and exaggerated modes. Back in December 1991 (the first Christmas I was alive for), the American Arab Anti-Discrimination Committee protested the show and wanted VHSes pulled from video stores. They felt The Little Drummer Boy portrayed people of the Middle East as “money-grubbing, fat, ugly, hooked-nosed kidnappers.” 

That was 31 years ago. Today, many audiences are even more sensitive to inauthentic cultural depictions. Those with their mitts on The Little Drummer Boy rights are likely very aware of a potential dust-up with offended audiences. As a result, they no doubt limit it’s exposure and limit their own risk to controversy. In addition, The Little Drummer Boy marches across sacred ground. This is inescapably a religious story. You don’t need me to point out that the separation of religion and television is a hot button issue. Perhaps that’s why Freeform airs the short at odd times when less people are likely to watch it (and be potentially offended or angered), while still broadcasting it for those interested.  

Then what is real reason for The Little Drummer Boy falling out of popularity and the reduction in annual showings? It is because Aaron serves as an unappealing protagonist for children? Is it because the short is bereft of commercial Christmas imagery? Or it is because networks and rights holders want to sidestep cultural, political, and/or religious controversies? I have no idea, but my guess is the true reason(s) are a combination of all. 

But is The Little Drummer Boy worth a watch? Ok, the film looks greying and cloudy. Yes, it moves at a stodgy pace. The characters feel mostly dour and humorless. The voice actors are good, but many modern audiences will chafe at their lack of cultural authenticity. Greer Garson, seven times Academy Award nominated actress and one-time winner, provides a regal narration, though she lacks any light touches. The music remains mostly forgettable and lacks toe-tappers. The exception of course being the title song, which is beautifully performed by the Vienna Boys Choir. 

Racist caricatures aside, The Little Drummer Boy represents one of several high points for Rankin/Bass puppet designs. In Rudolph, most of the puppets were of animals or non-humans. Santa, Mrs. Claus, and Yukon Cornelius were sculpted with rudimentary faces, dots-for-eyes, and were capable of minimal expressions. The Little Drummer Boy inverses this with more focus on human puppets than animal ones. These puppets are individual and exceptionally detailed, down to their eye shapes, facial hair, and certainly their clothing. The last five-minutes of the film, where Aaron arrives at the manager and experiences a spiritual awakening, is one of the most emotionally redolent sequences in any animated holiday film. The ending is most certainly worth the previous sour 20 or so minutes. 

It remains unlikely that The Little Drummer Boy will ever become as mainstream again as Rudolph or Frosty. And though it doesn’t sparkle and glitter like the other Rankin/Bass movies, it deserves the status of a Christmas classic (even if it’s a former Christmas classic). 

-T.Z. 

DECEMBER MADNESS: 16 MOVIES FOR OUR CHRISTMAS ELIMINATION TOURNAMENT

Our 2nd Annual Holiday Trilogy concludes this month! We’ve chosen 16 different Christmas movies, entered them into the bracket above, and narrowed them down to one winner: the Obscure Christmas Movie for 2022. 

Here’s a list of the Christmas movies that are competing this year. I will note where (and if) you can stream the movie as of this posting. All you can rent or buy digitally. Don’t waste your money on some.  

The Christmas special will debut on DECEMBER 16th! 

RUDOLPH THE RED-NOSED REINDEER (1948) 

This is the Max Fleischer 1948 version, not the more famous Rankin-Bass one from 1964. 

STREAMING: Free on YouTube. 

FROSTY’S WINTER WONDERLAND (1976) 

The true sequel to the classic Frosty the Snowman TV special (do NOT watch Frosty Returns). 

STREAMING: Free on YouTube. 

THE SANTA CLAUSE 3: THE ESCAPE CLAUSE (2006) 

The rightfully maligned third installment in the Tim Allen film series. 

STREAMING: Disney+ 

CHRISTMAS WITH THE KRANKS (2004) 

Another rightfully maligned Tim Allen Christmas movie. 

STREAMING: Freevee & Amazon Prime (with ads) 

MISTER MAGOO’S CHRISTMAS CAROL (1962) 

The first animated Christmas special to be produced especially for television. 

STREAMING: Peacock Premium 

AN ALL DOGS CHRISTMAS CAROL (1998)  

The third film in the All Dogs film series and the finale to the All Dogs TV series. 

STREAMING: Not currently streaming. You lucky dog. 

ROCKY IV (1985) 

An example of being “loosely” a Christmas movie. 

STREAMING: Hulu Premium Subscription 

JAWS: THE REVENGE (1987) 

Another example of being “loosely” a Christmas movie. 

STREAMING: Not currently streaming. You lucky shark. 

MIRACLE ON 34th STREET (1947) 

The original, not the remake (though I like that one too). 

STREAMING: Disney+ , Amazon Prime 

MEET ME IN ST. LOUIS (1994) 

The only movie to appear in all three of your Holiday installments. Will it win this time? Find out! 

STREAMING: Not currently streaming. Rent it! 

JACK FROST (1998) 

Not the fun animated Rankin/Bass stop-motion iteration one or the straight-up horror one with Shannon Elizabeth. This is the creepy one with Michael Keaton. 

FRED CLAUS (2007) 

Starring Vince Vaughn and Paul Giamatti (who almost makes this a bearable experience) 

STREAMING: HBO Max 

HOME ALONE 3 (1997) 

The first Home Alone movie to not star Macaulay Culkin. 

STREAMING: Disney+ 

I’LL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS (1997) 

This one stars Tim Allen’s Home Improvement son, Jonathan Taylor Thomas. 

STREAMING: Disney+ 

NATIONAL LAMPOON’S CHRISTMAS VACATION 2: COUSIN EDDIE’S ISLAND ADVENTURE (2003) 

Absolute shit. 

STREAMING: Not streaming. So lucky. 

ERNEST SAVES CHRISTMAS (1988) 

Starring Jim Varney (latter the voice of Slinky Dog in Toy Story) stars in the “Citizen Kane” of Ernest P. Worrell movies. 

STREAMING: Disney+