Ah, the Holiday Season. Ah, the Holiday Specials.
Now, if only ABC Family’s 25 Days of Christmas didn’t translate into 25 Days of Reasons-Why-Holiday-Movies-Are-Confined-to-the-Holidays. Yes, I’m talking about you, Stolen Miracle. Or you, Holiday in Handcuffs. (Oh, Melissa Joan Hart-- what have you become? Clarissa really can’t explain it all, can she?) But, mired in the muck of horrendously shitty “movies” masquerading as good-intentioned “Seasonal Specials”, there are Classics with a capital C. The Muppet Christmas Carol. It’s a Wonderful Life. How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Home Alone. Hell, I’ll even extend these accolades to The Polar Express (which, I admit, terrifies me). What is it about the Holiday season that has so polarized the film industry? Why are they capable of producing only gold or garbage? These are questions that, potentially, entail a much larger philosophical debate. Moreover, they distract from my primary concern-- the claymation Christmas movies.
Ah yes, the Rankin-Bass classics of yore. Lovingly crafted. Nostalgic. Chocked full of obvious musical numbers and even more obvious social agendas. Kinda creepy. Vaguely sinister. Always entertaining. Purveyors of Christmas Specials inevitably have a favorite Rankin-Bass creation. Moreover, these individuals loudly argue for the superiority of their particular film. Championing their movie, people cite animation quality, celebrity power, musical catchiness, volume of unintentional hilarity… the list goes on. However, supporters of that abomination Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, you will never convince me. My loyalties lie with The Year without a Santa Claus.
I could sing the praises of the musical numbers (blast you, little-girl-who-sings-I’ll-Have-a-Blue-Christmas-without-You… you get me every year). I could extol the endless comedic value of certain characters’ unabashed bigotry. Or Santa’s whininess. But no. My reason for loving this film, above all others, is singular in a double sort of way.
Why do I love it so much?
Simple. The Miser Brothers.
I don’t know what it is about these guys. I just know that, as a 6 year old, I would put the VHS into the player, fast forward to the Miser Brothers’ songs, watch, rewind, and repeat until family members confiscated the offending tape. I also know that, as a 22 year old, the advances of the DVD have made this process a whole lot easier. And, for cohabitating loved ones, significantly more obnoxious.
I can’t explain the brilliance of the Miser Brothers. Words fail me. Accordingly, I leave you with their raw genius. Enjoy.
Maybe someday you too will be lucky enough to witness The Chin-People Spectacular Present: The Year without a Santa Claus. Yes, Virginia, there is a Chin Miser. On my face.
Also, Heat Miser is totally the predecessor of this.
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