2015 Movie Wrap-Up

As the year comes to a close, I thought it would be fun to do a retrospective on the movies that I've devoted my precious time to. I obviously didn't see every single thing in existence that people were talking about, but here is a reflection on my personal 2015 time capsule and what I thought about each entry.

Movies

Cinderella

There's not much to say about this movie except that it does exactly what it set out to do. It holds together much better than the Disney animated classic, but unfortunately it never quite manages to get out of Ever After's shadow. Essentially, it's a pure telling of the story of Cinderella. For 95 million dollars.

Avengers: Age of Ultron

They tried really hard, but the movie just barely makes it to the finish line. I think it was probably a case of overload. And while it doesn't fall apart like Spider-Man 3 did, it does feel a little smothered under its own weight. I wanted to love it, but I only wound up liking it. It's not a bad thing, but you really feel the difference when so much is riding on a franchise.

Mad Max: Fury Road

Let me put this out there, Mad Max just isn't my thing. I find the character boring and I find the whole wasteland setting tedious. But EVERYBODY raved about this movie, so I gave it a shot. And, yeah, I liked it. I don't think it's a masterpiece, but it's definitely worth checking out.

Hot Pursuit

I saw this one at the dollar theater and came away liking things about it, but feeling like it missed the mark a bit. Then I showed it to my family on DVD and suddenly the strengths felt greater than the weaknesses. It's a fun B-reel comedy. Not Midnight Run's caliber, but a cute movie on it's own.

Tomorrowland

The funny thing is, I felt obligated to say I liked this movie just because it was a big budgeted original film. And while not much of it has stayed with me months later, I remember rather enjoying the bulk of it. I'd honestly rather see this one again over Inception.

Inside Out

Okay, the only thing I didn't like about this movie was that stupid short about the damn volcano. The film itself was beautiful, well crafted, and just creative. I had the pleasure of watching two siblings during the second viewing (roughly a twelve and nine year old) in a deep interpretive discussion about each place Joy and Sadness visited. Pixar is going to have a hell of a time reaching this peak again.

Jurassic World

I had fun. Once. Then I started thinking about how utterly uninteresting the human cast was and I've become progressively more irritated with this movie. "But dude," I hear the 1.6 billion dollars in ticket sales say, "You just go for the dinosaurs-" F**k you. I saw Dinosaur for the dinosaurs and that movie sucked too. In any worthwhile movie you have to be rooting for something, and in this case it seems to be the carnage; which means we've taken a wrong turn into Friday the 13th territory. You missed the mark, movie.

Ant-Man

On the one hand, this was probably the best Ant-Man movie they could have made. But that's also the other hand. Why do we need this character in the already overpopulated MCU? This character is dumb guys. Remember when we were kids and had our heads held underwater by someone a few years older and twice our mass? This was the kind of thing they used to justify it to themselves. Now that we own pop culture, please don't blow this.

Spectre

A film series with continuity is a double-edged sword. You have the ongoing arc to propel the plot forward, but you also have the difficulty of each installment being evaluated on its own terms. That said, this might actually be my favorite of the Daniel Craig Bond films. If we could just eliminate the Bond/Blofeld backstory I think I'd have nothing to complain about.

The Peanuts Movie

Craig Schulz gets an automatic green light for whatever he wants to do next. There are people who don't care about Charlie Brown. I don't know what they do with their lives because I've unfriended them. The rest of us love Chuck because respect the hell out of his undefeatable optimism. This movie brilliantly solves the issue of how to make him fail and succeed at the same time. The end result is a story with a purity on par with The Muppet Movie.

Star Wars: The Force Awakens

2015 had its highs and lows, but the year ultimately hinged on this movie not sucking. And it didn't suck. I'm not the kid I used to be. My heart has been broken a few times and dented nearly out of recognition. The sheer glee I felt about Luke and his Joseph Campbell template has long since been stored up in a box in the attic. So I didn't come out of the theater pantomiming a lightsaber or asking strangers if they SAW that thing that happened in the middle of the screen. I politely got in my car and drove away, reflecting on how much I enjoyed the experience and that I would really like to see it again. But a few states away, I could feel that box in the attic stirring, jumping around, and about to burst open. Suffice to say, the force has awakened.

My Own Private Grinch

It was Christmas in Whoville, and all through the village

The stores were afrenzied with stockpiles to pillage.

The shops were all decked out in festive attire,

With snowflakes and garland suspended by wire.

Each clerk did their work, keeping smiles in their places

With holiday stressors untouched on their faces.

They rang out their welcome, embracing of wallets
For this-a-ma-bobbles and that-cha-ma-callits.

The square had its share of events for all ages
With reindeer on rooftops and skaters on stages.

The ice sculptors sculpted. The carolers caroled.

And kids threw their snowballs at poor uncle Harold.

And one place in town you could spend half the winter

Was Mark's Mega-market, your superstore center

With doors opened wide for the masses to enter

(Though getting back out was a bit of a splinter).

Its grocery counters were filled to capacity
Taking in caking for baking tenacity.
Mounds of Who-briskets! And mountains of sauces!
And leaflets of lettuce for salady tosses!
Who-pudding! Who-dressing! Who-cider! You're on!
Stack pies to the skies filled with peach and pecan!
The feast! O the feast! How the Whos loved to feast!
Stuff their bellies with jellies of flour and yeast.
From the west to the north, and the south to the east,
All the Whos would be feasting 'til tummies increased.

And off in the distance, a jovial Who
(Little Cindy-Lou Who, who was now twenty-two)
Had the plate full of cookies she baked every year
For a friend of the Whos, who she held very dear.

She tapped on his door with no hint of a warning
And called to the Grinch with a chirpy "Good morning!"
She heard a low shuffle of clothes in a spin
And a few moments later the door opened in.

He stood there, bedecked in his outfit of yore,
That red Santa jacket he'd worn long before,
The rim and the hem at the bottom he'd laced
With a billowy cotton that covered his waist.

She smiled when she saw him, the funny old Grinch,
And she leaned in to give him a Christmasy clinch.
And although he returned it, not pausing to flinch,
He seemed to retreat- maybe just for an inch.

But no matter. The Grinch had his own way of being.
Today was a day full of sledding and skiing.
But first, Cindy-Lou Who had something to do.
"I brought you some cookies. I made them for you."

The Grinch took one look at the delicatessen;
His semblance in icing of azure and cresson,
A dozen or so little Grinchy surprises,
With smiles on their faces and gleams in their eyeses.

"My dear," said the Grinch, "You're so thoughtful and kind.
I'm touched by your presents. Now if you don't mind,
There's a spot on the table to lay the tray down,
Then we'll hop in my sled and we'll glide into town."

"But Grinch," Cindy giggled, "They're warm and they're fresh.
The dough and the icing? They perfectly mesh.
So why don't you try one before we go out?
I'm sure that you'll like them. I've nary a doubt."

The Grinch felt unease with the leering dessert,
But his friend was aglow, and had feelings to hurt.
So he said, "Don't you see, I've been stuffed on Who-tater.
I'll work off that meal and I'll save them for later."

Who-tater? thought Cindy. That seemed rather odd.
For this climate was hardly conducive to sod.
And his claim of its stock, through his foregone seclusion,
Was giving the Who a slight touch of confusion.
See, Cindy was young and a little naïve.
It was still in her nature to trust and believe.
But her time with the Grinch made her just a bit wise,
And she noticed a glimmer of pain in his eyes.

"Dear Grinch," said the girl, "Is there something the matter?
You seem disenchanted by sight of the platter.
Or have I been rude with the frosting I smatter?
I meant no offense by your likeness in batter."

"No child," said the Grinch, "You've impeccable skill.
And I'm sorry my words have provoked an ill-will.
So I'm happy to try your green cookies and cream."
He grinned, and he laughed, and he stifled a scream.

He lifted a pastry right up to his lips
With its gooey confection in nectarous drips.
The fragrant aroma infected his snout,
But his jaw was determined to keep the thing out.
He grinded his teeth at his troublesome stall
And decided a taste wouldn't harm him at all.
So simple. One bite. Take the treat in and swallow,
But try though he might, his mouth just wouldn't follow.

He set down the cookie, this cast of himself,
And he lowered his head and he leaned on the shelf
And he slumped in his chair at a rickety slant
And he whispered to Cindy, "I'm sorry. I can't."

"You can't?" Cindy said as she reached for his hand.
And she patted his fingers like combing through sand.
"Please tell me," she said with the kindness of youth,
"The reason you waver. Please tell me the truth."

The Grinch drew a breath like the heat of a griddle,
And lifted the jacket that shielded his middle,
And showed her his belly of fuzzy acclaim,
And he grimaced, and scowled, and he grumbled in shame.

"This stomach I carry, this pitiful waist,
I cringe when I see it. This thing is disgraced.
I feel like a walrus with blubber to spare
Like it's building up here and it's storing up there.
And I've tried to get rid of it. Surely I've tried.
And I've tried, and I've tried, and I've broke down and cried.
And I stay here, not eating. I curl up and hide
And I bottle it up and I keep it inside."

Now, his tummy was round, but was really just fine.
You'd not think such a thing could provoke this malign,
But whatever the reason, his age or his stress,
A feeling's a feeling they need to address.

They sat there in silence, the Grinch and the Who
With neither one sure of what either should do.
But Cindy leaned in with an empathy's grace
And she gave him a kiss on the side of his face.

"Is it possible Grinch that this shape of your gain
Is a subtle illusion from some other pain?
And it feels like a burden you're destined to haul,
But it might not be swollen, or be there at all?"

"That doesn't make sense. I should see what I see,
And the me that I see is the girth of a tree."

"Sweet Grinch, what you're seeing," the little Who said,
Is anxiety speaking. It's all in your head.
This fear of the size of your abdomen's border?
It sounds like it's Body Dysmorphic Disorder."

"Body Dysmorphic Disorder? What's that?
Is it cause and effect for the unwanted fat?"

"It's more like a filter that colors your mind
By creating a flaw where there's not one to find.
I know this because I have friends in the town
And each has a notion they drown in their gown.

My cousin Cherie has this whimsy opaque
And a dream of perfection she's trying to shake.
And Ronald has talent demanding of stock
That makes him a target for hecklers to mock.

And then there's Melissa, whose pain as a child
Was to lose her regard when emotions were riled,
And those memories cluster and natter their toll
And it's sad, but rejection gives guise of control.

You're hearing a monster that feeds on its prey,
And it's cruel and collected and won't go away.
But you're never alone. There are others below,
And they gather together to learn and to grow.
Then imagine that moment if, in from the snow,
Came the Grinch with a struggle he'd like them to know.
That they reap what you reap and they sew what you sew.
Then they'll listen and hear you
And comfort and cheer you
And guide you and steer you
Whenever you're low
For a chance to connect is a gift you bestow
If you give them a shot. O, their faces will glow."

He ruffled the cotton from out of his lap
And hugged Cindy tightly, and balanced his cap.
From Whoville below rang a gentle inviter
Where Christmas, somehow, felt a little bit brighter.


When I was a teenager I developed an eating disorder without having any idea that's what it was. I was in college before someone suggested to me that I might be anorexic. I was puzzled, because I'd never heard of a guy becoming anorexic; we didn't experience societal pressure to be thin the way women did.
But the truth is, men can and do become anorexic. The statistical analysis is still very difficult to estimate because men tend to keep personal issues (including eating disorders) to themselves. That's why I wrote this blog post.
Here at the age of 43 I believe I treat my body much better than I did in my teens and twenties. I'm not as thin as I used to be, and I know in my head that I'm at a much healthier weight. But the voice of anorexia never leaves you. I hate and resent the three digit number on the scale. I see my belly as an uncomfortable sight. The temptation to skip meals is always present, because in some twisted way I feel like I'm 'winning' when I get the dizzy spells and the headaches and the tummy grumbles. If I can't control anything else in my life, at least I can control that.
But the truth is, I also know that treating myself badly hurts the people around me. Despite the pull towards poor self-care, I won't consciously harm my caring wife. In my lowest moments, I know she needs me to be better than my eating disorder. Sometimes it boils down to a simple reluctant choice.
My ultimate hope with this is that someone else out there might feel encouraged to admit to people they trust some burden that they carry; some pain that they can't fully be rid of. It doesn't solve the problem, but it's a step in the right direction, and a big one at that.
Seasons greetings. Don't be alone.

Spoilers-Star Wars-Spoilers-Review-Freaking Spoilers-Okay?

I want to describe my morning.

I had a chance to go see the 9:10 am showing of The Force Awakens. I woke up a little late but still got through McDonald's easily and back on the road. It was going to be tight, but I knew I'd make it to the theater, walk in, sit down and the first preview would run.

And then the longest, slowest, ugliest train I've ever seen in my life pulled in front of me, coming to a complete stop by around car number 183. I'm positive the conductor even leaned out his window to flip me off.

Now, to be fair (which nerds usually aren't) there was another showing 40 minutes later, so you'd think it would be no big deal there. But I felt a stirring from deep within, as if a million voices suddenly cried out in a string of obscenities in languages I'd never heard before. It was unexpectedly cathartic.

You see, when I heard J. J. Abrams was going to get to play with his action figures on the Disney canvas, I was unaffected. I thought, great, I guess. He's probably a good fit for that franchise, and he was willing to destroy that other 'Star' universe from the inside to land the gig. What could be more empire than that? I just knew better than to spend months-to-years getting worked up about it; i.e. I came out of Phantom Menace thinking "It was decent, good lightsaber battle, the trilogy will get better...".

I saw Revenge of the Sith opening night and didn't speak to anyone for three days.

So I was in the theater this morning sitting through a series of trailers I've already voluntarily sought out on Youtube, when the Lucas logo appeared onscreen sooner than I was expecting. Still no reaction from me. Those familiar blue letters reminding me that the events unfolding should have no bearing on my life as it is came and went.

And somewhere in that blackness before John Williams started his assault, it happened.

I was seeing a new Star Wars movie. In the theater. For the first time. It was like feeling the force for the first time. Chills. Weightlessness. A craving of everything Jedis claim not to be into yet seem to keep seeking out. Let's blast the hell out of some faceless humanoids!

So if you're here you probably don't need me to summarize the plot for you, but let's play pretend movie critic. The empire has restructured and slapped on a new coat of paint, calling itself The First Order, a common dick move I expect we'll be seeing from the Church of Scientology real soon. We have the underused Poe Dameron quickly establish himself as hipster Wedge Antilles, storing the macguffin into a droid and getting captured. He's befriended by a stormtrooper who has an epiphany that murdering an innocent population might be wrong which leads him through a series of fortunate events to Rey Skywalker (yeah, I know they haven't admitted she's Luke daughter yet, but come on.) Stuff happens. Han and Chewey show up. More stuff happens. Leia saves their asses. There's a Death Star upgraded to Planet (another F U to Pluto) and Rey climbs the Steps of Insanity on Gallifrey to offer the Joker's voice acting master, who curiously has no lines of dialogue, his father's lightsaber. In fact she holds it out to him for about ninety seconds before Abrams remembers to roll the credits.

So what did I dislike about the movie?

Honestly, not much. The dialogue can get a little silly at times and the reliance on coincidence is more than a little noticeable (beat us over the head with the light/darkness metaphor, won't you?). But as some of the more...passionate members of my people have pointed out, this isn't science fiction, it's space opera. What's the difference? Midichlorians I suppose.

I mentioned Poe Dameron being underused. He comes across as a really great character right out of the gate but then he disappears for most of the movie. Carrie Fisher's talent is also not fully tapped. Five words: Give. Leia. A. F**king. Lightsaber!

Let's talk Han Solo's death, because I said the word 'spoilers' three times in the title. I'm cool with it. Harrison Ford was pushing for it as far back as Return of the Jedi. But I felt Chewbacca's reaction to it was lacking a little oomph. Yeah, he got a shot off at Darth Newbie, but the Wookie had multiple freakouts in Empire. I wanted to see him completely lose it.

But those are nitpicks. There are so many wonderful things happening in this movie that are worth celebrating, it's hard to know where to start. The new characters are great. Finn's dialogue feels maybe a bit too American, but there are no truly dumb lines like "I'm a person and my name is Anakin." They feel very real, and when the classic characters make their appearances the two generations blend together nicely. Finn and Rey both experience certain elements of the Star Wars universe for the first time, which makes for a convenient audience access point to understand things like how a Tie-Fighter works, or the value of a navigator on the Millennium Falcon.

Harrison Ford seems so much happier to be back as Han Solo than he did as Indiana Jones. He could have phoned in his performance, but you can tell he's really finding the same character beats plus age. Carrie Fisher is brilliant as General Leia. Her balancing of responsibility to the rebels with her emotions about re-meeting her old flame strike the perfect middle ground. Mark Hamill doesn't have anything to do except show up (how the hell long has he been standing in that spot?) but I can say I'm totally digging the Brad Dourif look. I'm secretly hoping for episode VIII we find he's gone maybe a little crazy.

The set pieces are amazing. I don't think I've felt so exhilarated by Star Wars action scenes since the speeder chase in Jedi. While the climactic lightsaber battle isn't as thoroughly choreographed as the one in Phantom Menace, it's arguably the most emotionally driven (a pretty impressive feat after the iconic 'I AM your father' face-off.

Actually, the emotions are the biggest strength of this whole movie. The destruction of Alderaan was tragic in concept, but you never really felt it. You feel the destruction in The Force Awakens. You feel the violence. And the pain and the loss. And probably by default, the humor seems all the more sophisticated. And there's a lot of it. My favorite laugh out loud moment was when Darth Newbie is throwing a lightsaber tantrum and two stormtroopers pause and wordlessly decide to walk the other way.

One final thought, Adam Driver rocks it as Vader's replacement. The character may not be able to live up to his grandfather's legacy, but the actor sure as hell hits every emotion that Hayden Christensen fumbled.

Thank the maker we only have to wait a year and a half for Star Wars: The Force Brushes its Teeth.

Seven Little Pitfalls of Caroling

Who wants to go caroling?

Nobody? Yeah, I figured. Truth be told I never really got into Christmas caroling. It's one of those activities that's more fun in theory (where you're imagining being accompanied by professional singers) than in execution (a group of friends who don't actually KNOW the carols improvisationally performing for people who truly don't want to be bothered -sorry again Woolco).

The real soul of Christmas is in the choirs. A Capella, bell, jazz, Finnish shouting; it doesn't matter. Moderate talent can really pull together some impressive performances under the fist of a prima donna dictator in the name of peace and harmony.

So let's say you're thinking about starting yourself a little singing group. Good for you. That's so cute. I myself am thinking about becoming a professional actor/writer/model/rockstar. Here's to both our dreams. But where do you start when devising your choir's set list? I mean, there are literally 69,105 Christmas carols to choose from.

Well, there's a few solid staples. Silent Night and Deck the Halls are easy ones. Everybody knows the words, the ranges are simple, you really can't screw those up (although Ray Charles admittedly arranged a version of Jingle Bells that still gives me a migraine). Then you have some choices of standard fare like Away in a Manger or Winter Wonderland, which people know really well but may not be familiar with the vastly superior additional verses. And then there's those really boring ones like Still, Still, Still or the Holly and the Ivy, that audiences have learned to tolerate.

But there's a few subtle pitfalls about very specific Christmas carols that you may not be aware of until you're in full view of the House of the Lord's congregation; a place surprisingly conducive to pondering those elements of your life that really tap into your never-ending cycle of grief.

You know? In the spirit of Christmas, why don't I point a few of those out for the sake of all humankind.

1. The First Noel

The problem: Hearing loss.

Actually, fun anecdote. At the age of six, I once burst into this song on my own accord (I think it may have been at a University library) and sang the hell out of it. I made it all the way to the 'Noel' part before realizing I'd been singing the melody to The Star Spangled Banner by mistake. I'm sure that's happened to everyone at some point, but that's not the issue I want to address.

Several of the carols on this list are going to relate to untimely high notes, and this is a perfect initial example. The fourth Noel has a descant, which is a musical term for "the sopranos get to do something cool while the rest of us are stuck with these monotone harmony lines". Now I can't print music in this blog, but essentially the descant reads like this:

No-o-e-el. No-o-eeeeel. No-o-e-el. No-o-EEEEEEEEEEEE-el.

Composers favor sopranos, and sopranos know they're great. And because Christmas is a time for humility or some crap like that, sopranos get a little repressed. That descant bursts the dam they've been obligated to build up, and you don't want your ears directly in front of them when that happens.

2. Hark the Herald Angels Sing

The problem: fainting.

The Noel descant is a perfect showoff bit because it's high, loud, and short. Hark the Herald Angels Sing starts out in a reasonably high range. Then it gets higher. And it stays there...until it goes HIGHER and stays there. And then we do the next three verses the same way.

I'm a tenor, so I'm not afraid of high notes. But this hymn is a pounding elephant stampede of the same damn note over and over. It's like headbanging to an Offspring song eight feet underwater. You can actually feel your heart going "What the hell is going on up there? Your blood is coming back purple!"

If you're going to pick this one for your choir, let them do it right out of the gate and then schedule in a twenty-five minute intermission for recovery. Better yet, let's turn it over to a diva soloist.

3. O Holy Night

The problem: oversinging.

In my opinion, this is one of the most beautiful sacred Christmas songs out there. I'm sure everyone owns the Trans-Siberian Orchestra's first Christmas album where that guitar plays the most hauntingly painful version of this song on the second track.

In a way, this one is like Hark the Herald in the sense that it starts high and keeps getting higher, but it's much more voice-friendly in terms of giving breath marks and reeling it in. Still though, it's a tough piece to sing, but a lot of people can do it.

And therein lies the problem. Someone with a strong enough voice easily fall victim to the misguided belief that the song is somehow about them. Jessica Simpson is probably the highest profile singer to ever prove she had no idea what the lyrics were about on national television. O Holy Night is about something bigger than you, and you look very foolish if you present it as "[Everybody but me] Fall on your knees."

On the flipside, you also look pretty stupid undersinging it, so the challenge is finding the sweet spot. As my elementary school choir teacher put it "This is fall on your knees, not fall on your nose."

4. It Came Upon a Midnight Clear

The problem: the wrong sentiment

I'm sure you've heard of this song, but unless you regularly spend your Decembers in churches you might not be familiar with how it goes. Here's what you need to know.

First off, this song is really pretty. Secondly, it follows standard four-line hymn format; line one is your primary melody without resolution, followed by line two which is the same melody except with resolution. Line three is a counter melody line and line four is a repeat of line two. It's line three where the problem arises.

The first half of line three is "Peace on the earth, goodwill to men". "Peace on" is a repeated high note, not a stratosphere one, but notably the highest the melody goes into. "The earth" immediately follows, and it's the same note, but an octave lower.

Dropping an octave is a bit of a trick for the human voice unless you're going through puberty. So if you're singing this carol, your natural focus is on not slurring that low note while searching for it. As such, it's easy to cut a corner on the high stuff.

See, high notes take energy. And forming long vowels (like the 'e' in peace) also takes energy. And for whatever reason, if you're not concentrating that long 'e' sound can transform into a short 'i' sound like in igloo. I'll let you put that together yourself. Suffice to say, if there are middle schoolers in the congregation they're going to hear exactly what you don't want them to.

5. Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer

The problem: audience participation

I don't know where this started or why, but these dumb-ass responses to every other line in this song started rubbing me the wrong way as far back as third grade.

On the one hand, using "like a light-bulb" twice in a row is really lazy writing. On the other hand, grow up! It's not clever and it's not funny.

Although I sometimes wonder why this never caught on with other 'mythology' carols like Frosty the Snowman. "For when they placed it on his head, he began to dance around. Like an idiot!"

6. We Wish You a Merry Christmas

The problem: despair

This carol was voted most-likely-to-grate-on-your-nerves nine years in a row in the Christmas poll I just made up. The song is the epitome of everything wrong with the world today. It's the Tom's Diner of Christmas music.

I know what you're thinking (and shame on you for thinking that), but what you should be thinking is "How bitter and grouchy do you have to be to get this worked up about such a harmless Happy Birthday-esc commercial jingle?" The answer is twofold. First, shut up. Second, We Wish You a Merry Christmas is the default sing-tone of all carolers. When you're wandering en mass through the hospital or whatever and you bump into another patient you didn't know was there, it's "Let's sing something...uh...We wish you a merry-" 

You only need that experience once to hate the song forever. And it doesn't help that there's always a couple of yokels who insist on singing it "We w'sssshhhh you a Merry Christmas" and looking pleased with themselves.

But the real soul crushing moment comes during the 'choose your own bridge' section, which goes in this sort of sequence: 1. "Good tidings" 2. "we bring/to you" 3. "to you and your kin/wherever you are/and a happy/oh come on guys". It's at that moment the whole song trails off, the carolers smile like morons and the hospital recipient casually indicates she really didn't give a shit about being sung to.

It's too much reality setting in. Christmas deserves better.

7. The Hallelujah Chorus

The problem: a fistfight in the parking lot

Technically The Hallelujah Chorus is an Easter tradition, but if churches are going to shell out the money for the brass section on Christmas Eve they're going to use them thoroughly.

Handel's Messiah is an inescapable piece of classical music. You simply can't not know of it. In fact, even if you never set foot in a church in your life you could probably sing the primary melody line from start to finish without error. That's how 'everywhere' the piece is.

And the funny thing is, if YOU can do that (and again, I'm having to pretend you're a tone deaf Godless heathen to make this analogy work. Sorry about that, you devout virtuoso harpy you) you'd think people who regularly sing in the choir loft would be able to hit all their marks with their eyes closed. You'd really think that.

There are two things you can guarantee in a church; when the preacher says "and then this last thing" the sermon still has at least another seven minutes to go, and when a choir performs The Hallelujah Chorus SOMEBODY is going to botch the ending with a half-syllable solo.

This, verbatim, is the finale of every Hallelujah Chorus ever performed in a church:

Choir: Hallelujah!...Hallelujah!...Hallelujah!...Hallelujah!

(pause)

Soloist: (meekly) Hah-

Lead Alto: (softly) Are you f**king kidding me.

Choir: Haaa-Leeeeeeee-Luuuuuuuuuu-Jaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!

And the congregation applauds even though they're not supposed to in a church service, but it gives the choir director a chance to bail out knowing that somebody's going to get it.

And that, dear friends, is the price of peace on earth.

The Nothing Special Christmas Special

Somewhere in the North Pole, there is a little tavern called Under the Mistletoe. It's owned and run by Violet, one of the many sugar plum fairies.

The week leading up to Christmas, sugar plum fairies are frenzied with appearances in both dreams and realities all over the world. But in the early days of December, they often find themselves of little use to the elves who are tirelessly working away at last minute preparations for the big day. But Violet had found a place where she could be of some help, in her tavern called Under the Mistletoe.

Beginning the day after Thanksgiving, many an elf had taken much needed solace in the warmth of the tavern. Moments in the hectic schedule to laugh with each other, reflect alone, let off steam, or simply just to be. Even the big guy himself was known to make an appearance at least once every season. And they were always grateful to Violet for fulfilling this need even before they realized said need existed.

Violet always had a meager smile on her face, even if she wasn't particularly outgoing. She wasn't much for conversation, but she was always quick to refill your mug. And on the nights that the reverie pushed the noise beyond the threshold of tolerance, Violet merely moved to the quietest corner of the tavern and absorbed the festivity from a comfortable distance.

It had been a night like that. Her guests were finally leaving, after having stayed an hour past the norm, and Violet sighed as she scanned the premises with its spilled cider and gumdrops mashed into the floor. It would be nearly sunrise before she could rest her head with visions of her compatriots. But alas, she knew the North Pole was a slightly happier place because of her efforts.

Under the Mistletoe was nearly empty now, only a lone reindeer lay curled up by the fireplace with his eyes closed. Violet knelt down to him, stroking his fuzzy neck.

"Do you need to kick me out?" he asked her with a subtle sadness in his voice.

Violet thought for a moment, but changed her mind. "No. You can stay as long as you like, if you don't mind me sweeping."

The reindeer moved his head in acknowledgement and Violet moved over to the door. She stepped out into the snow to change the sign indicating whether the tavern was closed open, when she saw a familiar figure waving to her across the field.

Violet blinked. "Suzy?"

The unmistakable laughter responded, and Violet's face lit up.

"Am I too late?"

"No, please," Violet held the door open. "I was wondering if you were going to make it back this year."

Suzy Snowflake scurried into the tavern, giving Violet a warm (though cold) hug. "I am so sorry, I tried to get here sooner."

"No problem at all."

Suzy did a quick appraisal of the tavern. "It looks like I missed something good," she giggled.

"The boys got a little caught up in the moment."

"Well I've certainly missed this place. They don't have anything quite like it in New York." Suzy's eyes paused on the reindeer. "Is he sleeping?" she whispered.

"No, it's Rudolph," Violet answered, not realizing she was also whispering.

Suzy blinked. "Rudolph?"

Violet nodded. Suzy seemed confused, so she explained, "You know Dasher, and Dancer, and Prancer, and Vixen?"

"Oh yes sweetie. I know who Rudolph is. He's the most famous reindeer of all. But is he all right?"

"He's just..." Violet stepped behind the counter. "December is looking like pretty clear skies this year."

Suzy sat down on one of the stools. "That's good," she said, half phrasing it as a question.

"It means they don't ask him to pull the sleigh."

"Oh. The poor thing."

Suzy requested something 'fun'. Violet set a tall glass in front of her and opened a bottle of a purple concoction, pouring it slowly into the cup. "Here, I really want to see what you think."

Suzy brought the glass to her lips and took a sip. A second later, her eyes opened as wide as they could. "Yum!"

"You like it?" Violet smiled.

"That is like pure syrup! What is it?"

"It's kind of a honeydew extract."

Suzy swallowed another mouthful. "You make it yourself?"

"How can you tell?"

"It's no wonder this place gets so crazy at night."

Violet shook her head. "Oh, no. I don't have this on the menu."

"Well I'm flattered." She had to resist downing the contents of the glass. "Why don't you have some?"

"Me?"

"Sure. Why not?"

Violet melted a little inside. "No one has ever suggested that before."

"Well, we have to make it a tradition then. That reminds me," Suzy dug in her purse and pulled out a plastic bracelet made up of individual circles designed to look like gummy sugar candies. "I got this for you in New York."

"Really?" said Violet. "For me?"

"Yeah," Suzy grinned. "I know it's a silly little trinket. But when I saw it, it just reminded me of you."

"I love it!" Violet put the bracelet around her wrist.

Suzy laughed again. "You don't have to love it that much."

"No I really do. I mean, New York? You must have a lot going on when you're there."

Suzy stretched her shoulders back like she was shaking off a heavy weight. "Oh you would not believe. This year was insane..."


Suzy Snowflake was one of the last recognizable figures associated with Christmas to not have a whole television special centered around her. Every year since the 1950's she'd spend the months before Christmas in pitch meetings and negotiations that never went anywhere. Usually these meetings were paced out at a pretty manageable rate, but ever since Disney's Frozen the season had turned into a complete tidal wave of discouraging conversations that transformed maybes into nos.


"So let me get this straight." Violet had finished her second cup, Suzy her third. "They want you to be Elsa, but then they shut it down because they're afraid you're too Elsa?"

"That's how these things always end. I'm too something. I'm too Lifetime, or too Nickelodeon, or too Wikia-y."

"What does that mean?"

"I have NO idea. It seems like the rejections fall into two categories. It's either some excuse that the studio is making up because they just can't admit to changing their minds, or it's that I'm female."

"Why is that a problem?"

Suzy shrugged. "Beats me. But studios don't seem keen on female protagonists. I was at one pitch that had gotten as far as a script with my name as the title but where I was only going to appear in the opening and closing scenes. The story was going to follow some male attorney or something. I walked away from that one myself."

"If that's the story they want, then why even tie it in with a Christmas carol?" asked Violet.

"Marketing." Suzy withheld a sneer like a pro. "I've been told that the only way this is ever going to happen is if the special can tie in to something that can be sold to kids."

"You wouldn't think a Suzy Snowflake doll would be that hard of a sell."

Suzy huffed. "You'd really think so. We'd talked about doing a straight up musical pageant and I was actually starting to get my hopes up. But then the studios wanted the 'sex factor' in there, but also not looking like the 'sex factor' was in there."

"How are you supposed to pull that off?"

Suzy gave Violet a smirk. "I have spent many cold nights pondering that very question."

"Well, if you were to do your own Christmas special. Like, pretending a studio just said 'give us you're own idea'. What would it be?"

Suzy leaned back. "You know, I appreciate you asking me that. I've thought about it off and on, and the truth is I don't know. I'd want it to actually mean something. Like at least capture the 'spirit' of Christmas in some way."

For a few moments Under the Mistletoe was silent, except for the dying embers in the fireplace and the occasional deep breathing of a sad reindeer.

"There's the old standby," said Violet. "Someone finding the true meaning of Christmas."

"I guess I've always felt it's been done to death already. Even if it's unavoidable."

"What is the true meaning of Christmas? At least as it pertains to Christmas specials."

Suzy tilted her head curiously. "I never actually thought about it before. I mean, there's the religious side, but you can't really put that in a special without making too many loud people mad."

"Yeah, but specials have managed to work around that for decades. What do you think the general idea is behind Christmas's meaning?"

"I don't know. I guess maybe it's different for everyone. For me, it's that time where you slow down a bit. Be a little more introspective. Maybe ask more questions about what you truly value than you ordinarily do. What is it to you?"

Violet examined the remaining liquid in the bottle before setting it back down. Only enough for one glass. "Endings. As beautiful as the snow is, a lot of things die in the winter. And sure, the earth wakes up again in the spring. But something will always have changed. Something will no longer be there. I think Christmas is that sense that you might be saying goodbye to something. And making sure you really do something to make that goodbye count for something."

"Hence the importance of traditions." Suzy winked at her.

"Indeed."

"Well, why don't we make a toast? The first of a new tradition."

"There's not much left."

"We'll make do." Suzy held up her glass and Violet poured her enough for one mouthful before doing the same for herself. They clinked the rims together in a dim ring. "To Christmas?"

"To figuring out where you belong," said Violet.


It was cold outside. Really cold. The night air was proving to be unrelenting as Suzy and Rudolph stepped into the snow. Suzy had offered to walk Rudolph home in the hopes of making his night a little bit better than it was before. But they'd only gotten six steps before the bite of winter set in.

"Good grief," Suzy muttered. "I don't usually say this, but it is really cold out here! You okay?"

"I have fur," said Rudolph.

"I wish I did. I'm freezing my booty off."

Rudolph's nose blinked into the glow mode. "You're an idiot," he grumbled.

Suzy did a double take. "Why do you say that?"

"Because you're all idiots. It's in your nature to be idiots."

Suzy moved closer to him and pet his massive face. "Sweetie, I know this is kind of a downer of a year for you-"

"Do you know what the meaning of Christmas is?"

Suzy paused. "I'm sure whatever I say, you're going to tell me I'm wrong."

"You all go through your lives blind," he said. "You're smart. You have ideas. But you take so much comfort in what you're thinking that you don't see what's right in front of you. The meaning of Christmas is that moment where you finally open your eyes."

"How does that make me an idiot?"

"Because," Rudolph stared at Suzy intently. "You had your eyes open and you couldn't see what I could, with mine shut."

"What did you see?"

"How happy she was to see you. And how happy you were to see her."

Suzy stared back at the reindeer, with his shiny nose in the snow. His message slowly settled in her head. Suzy's mouth opened to speak, but words never made it out. She completely forgot about the cold.

And satisfied that she understood him, Rudolph gave her a caring smile. "I can find my own way home."

And moments later, Suzy was out of the cold completely. She was where she was meant to be. In a tavern called Under the Mistletoe, which was finally earning its name.

The Twelve Obscure Carols of Christmas

Okay, it's December 1st. The Christmas CDs have been really patient but it's time to give them their spotlight.

My mom's side of the family was very musically oriented, and it was through her encouragement that I gravitated towards choirs as far back as I can remember.And when you're in a choir, you tackle Christmas music.

As such, I've had the pleasure of coming across a few lesser known Christmas carols, or otherwise seasonally themed music that I feel deserves at least as much attention as that damned Mariah Carey song. So in the interest of spreading some joy around, here are twelve of my favorite songs that usually get omitted from Christmas albums.

1. Gesu Bambino

Okay, this one isn't exactly obscure, but unless you travel in church choir circles you may not have had the pleasure of this beautiful piece. It's essentially the 'Let it Go' of Christmas music for soloists; you can over-sing it easily, but if you hit all the right beats it's quite powerful (and I particularly love the 3/4 time sampling of 'O Come All Ye Faithful'). Check out the link above to hear the Heidi Joy (Now that's what I call a singer's name) rendition.

2. All the Stars Shone Down

Here's another beautiful piece that also samples a more popular carol; 'What Child is This' in 4/4 time. Some of the best Christmas carols are the ones which musically acknowledge the sad side of the Christ story, and this one really hits that sweet spot. This was about the best version of it I can find online but I think it's worth a listen.

3. Christmas Children

Oh man. You want to hear a song that just sounds sad? This is it. One of the more overlooked compositions from the 1970 movie Scrooge, 'Christmas Children' has all the lyrics of the joy of the season. But the music! Dear God, that minor key. It's perfect for the Cratchits who have been in such a desperate situation for so long now that they may not even be aware of it anymore. Bob is singing about unattainable fantasies in a haunting innocence.

4. A Soalin

Well as long as we're in poverty we may as well hit this one. Okay, if you're familiar with folk trio Peter, Paul and Mary then you know this one, but if not then go listen to it right now. Do it! Santa's watching! As Paul Stookey explained in at least one of their concerts, the children in England would go house to house during the yuletide season caroling for anything to help them get through the harsh winter; a ritual we kind of transformed in this country as trick-or-treating.

5. Somerset Wassail

I'm specifically referring to the John Rutter adaptation. Arranging a piece of pre-existing music is an under-appreciated art form, but this is a skill that John Rutter excels at. There are a plethora of wassail-centric carols, but none sound quite as cool as this a cappella number. It just makes me want to get some friends together and rehearse the hell out of this song before taking it to the mall parking lot.

6. Calypso Carol

In a way, Christmas music is similar to the Western; the concept has been done so many ways that it's almost impossible to find an approach to it that doesn't feel cliched. But once in a while you stumble across the 'Calypso Carol'. This one is fun. It's bouncy and it will NEVER leave your head. Click on the link at your own risk.

7. Masters in this Hall

These next three are songs you probably at least know by title, but they tend to go unnoticed. 'Masters in this Hall' is very Renaissance in flavor. I'm not the most fluent speaker of music theory, but I find the intricacies fascinating; and that octave jump on the chorus is the stuff of legend. When you're in a choir and this song is part of your set list, you beg the director to let you rehearse this one first while your voice is still up for it.

8. Pat-a-pan

I've tried to steer away from trendy performances in these examples, but in this case the Mannheim Steamroller just did it the best. When performed by choir, 'Pat-a-pan' feels like the lesser known but arguably more talented brother of 'The Little Drummer Boy'. It's not a complicated song, but Christmas music tends to be strengthened by its simplicity.

9. In the Bleak Midwinter

I'm admittedly biased on this one. Musically and lyrically, this carol is about the weight of winter that feels undefeatable, but that small bit of resolve to keep pushing through it. It's also the only duet my mother and I sang together for a congregation. She was the one who chose the song and she asked me to perform it with her. I thank God my inner prima donna didn't pipe up with a request for some sort of "better" carol. Merry Christmas mom.

10. In December

I know it's not a very Christmas thing to say, but f**k Chuck E. Cheese. They destroyed the vastly superior competition of ShowBiz Pizza with the Rock-afire Explosion and the only animatronics I've ever voluntarily tried to get close to (except for the gorilla). Their earliest Christmas shows produced this gem which you can hear by skipping to 5:35. I don't know where the song came from and I haven't had any luck tracking information about it down. It's innocently hopeful and maybe just a little sad. But it's probably the most beautiful song to come from a bear with a guitar.

11. Sing We Noel

Courtesy of The Kingston Trio, as a child I just couldn't get enough of this song. Oddly enough, I didn't realize until this moment how similar the verses sound to 'Masters in this Hall', but it's a styling and it's a good one. Among the wonderful things about Christmas is the way different cultures have just naturally gravitated into the playlist. I could be wrong, but this song sounds Ukraine to me. (Nope, I was wrong. It's French). Hey, wanna here an awesome Celtic sounding version?

12. The Jesus Gift

I'm so glad I managed to find every one of these on Youtube in at least some form of quality. Dinah, my friend in high school, had this solo, and it instantly became the prettiest song of the a cappella choir's concert. 'The Jesus Gift' is the perfect lullaby, celebrating the gift of love over the unimportant trinkets of monetary value. As an added bonus, it's the most inappropriate song to play while handing around the collection plate.


So that's my B-side Christmas concert. Hopefully in some small way this blog will encourage professional singers to replace that NON-Christmas song 'My Favorite Things' with something a little more...not...non-Christmas. And just for the record, if anyone has a few extra hundred thousand dollars that they'd like to throw into producing an album, I have a pretty depressingly flexible schedule. I know all the words already.

Wassail everyone!

Hallmark Presents- A Very Depressing Thanksgiving

I took a stroll in the woods this morning, as far as you know. I happen to love this time of the year. The combination of yellows, browns, reds and oranges would paint a bizarrely imbalanced image in any other season, but autumn makes it work.

Now when I say I love the season, I don't mean I run out in the fifty degree temperatures doing cartwheels so much as the core of my inherent melancholia feels attuned to the beauty of decay. I don't know. Maybe I feel like the expectations on me to be 'up' and 'cheery' aren't as high.

So as I was lying, I strolled through the woods taking in the grandeur of harvest, when I noticed an odd sight; a very large turkey, human-sized, wearing a mock pilgrim outfit from the abdomen up. It sat alone on the remains of a fallen tree, apparently lost in thought.

Now turkeys usually tend to be much more social, and when one goes off on its own to sit in isolation that typically means it's wrestling with some huge moral dilemma or complicated math problem, and prefers being left alone. But as my birthday always falls on November 20th without fail, I've spent my life feeling a bit of a connection to Thanksgiving, if only for proximity. As such, I felt comfortable invading the poor bird's personal space.

"Hey buddy," I said. "You doing all right?"

"I'm fine," its beak smiled, even if the rest of its face indicated quite the opposite.

I sat down uninvited next to the creature. "Weather changes getting to you?" I suggested.

The turkey sighed. "Nothing like that. I guess it's just...Thanksgiving is getting to me."

"This particular Thanksgiving?"

"No, in general." The turkey sighed deeply. I prodded it as considerately as possible to elaborate. "I think it's been getting to me for a few years now."

"Like it doesn't mean as much anymore?"

The turkey shrugged. "I don't even know what it means now. I mean, what is the point of the holiday?"

"Something about pilgrims and early America. Probably a fictional re-imagining of history. Maybe even offensively so."

"Most people say it's supposed to be about family. Getting together. In many, many cases a family that doesn't want to get together. You have some family members who work their collective tails off preparing the apex 'meal' while the inactive family members wait. And wait. And by the time everyone is eating, they're all just kind of...over it."

That wasn't always the case, but the turkey had a point. "There's the parade," I said.

"When was the last time you watched the parade?"

"I don't know. A few years-" I trailed off, really trying to remember now. My most recent parade watching memories all had to do with the Disney Christmas parade. In fact, I think Jim Henson was still alive the last time I paid attention to Macy's. "A few decades ago?"

"Exactly!" The turkey seemed to find a new well of energy. "And why don't you watch the parade anymore?"

"Too many commercial breaks. And I never really care about the people they have scheduled to appear."

"That whole parade is a single commercial broken up by smaller commercials. The floats are commercials for other shows, and everything else is sponsored by somebody."

"Well, yeah," I said. "But it is Macy's parade. We wouldn't even have it if they weren't calling us to-"

"Their Christmas sale." The turkey gave me a knowing look which I didn't comprehend immediately.

"So you feel like Christmas horns into your territory too much?"

"I honestly don't care if Christmas horned in on Labor Day. This is the problem." The turkey turned to face me, holding up its plumes like fingers. "Halloween. Thanksgiving. Christmas. The big three. There are other holidays throughout the year, but this is western culture's triumvirate. Now Halloween is a guaranteed success because its a party with death. You CAN'T screw that up. Christmas gets planned as far back as July, and the weeks leading up to it are an overload of carols and eggnog. And what is smack dab between them?"

I nodded, feeling a newfound empathy for the turkey. "So you're feeling the pressure."

"No. I feel the expectations of disappointment." The turkey rubbed its eyes. "It used to be expectations that I could never meet, doomed to disappointment. Now I'm expected to disappoint, and I never seem to not deliver."

The turkey drew in a deep breath like it was about to come undone, but regained its composure with an almost professional recovery.

"I shouldn't complain," it continued. "Everyone from the groundhog to the leprechaun tells me how much they wish they could be nestled right between the jack-o-lantern and the tree. But I get so tired of having to smile whenever people keep chanting 'Happy Thanksgiving' or spend the next three days asking 'how was your Thanksgiving?'. It was THANKSGIVING. It was a placeholder between schools closing and Christmas shopping."

"Maybe we should call it Thanklessgiving," I said, only being met with an unamused glance.

"I guess sometimes I just wish I was Leap Day. Once every four years. No big fanfare. Just come and go. A little acknowledgement. And nobody has to feel like I was this big letdown."

"Yep," I said. "I hear you. When I was a kid I looked forward to the parades, probably because they were geared towards me. But I grew out them and never had another ritual to replace them. There's the family gatherings and croquet games and everybody trying to settle on a movie to tolerate. But like you say, Thanksgiving isn't really the day you get a reignited passion for as an adult."

I didn't know where I was going with that, and we wound up sitting in an awkward, yet somehow comfortable, silence. I tried to imagine what would make the perfect Thanksgiving. What new ritual. Or the perfect Thanksgiving special. There was no shortage of Halloween and Christmas television shows, but Thanksgiving was a bit of a hard nut to crack.

"Still," I said once I'd gotten tired of not speaking, "Maybe the fact that Thanksgiving is such a blank slate is the very reason it's a special day."

"You're really reaching, you know that?"

"Hear me out," I told the turkey. "Thanksgiving tends to be mediocre at best. But at its core there's a hopefulness. Maybe families see each other and the only story they walk away with is having seen each other, but it's at least a chance for something more meaningful to happen."

"Something meaningful can happen on any day."

"This is true. But you're more likely to find those experiences by seeking them out. And whether we realize it or not, Thanksgiving is one of those traditions that compels us to do something that we don't do every day. It may not guarantee that moment of personal development, but it certainly sets the table for it."

The turkey stared at me skeptically. "Are you using a dining metaphor on purpose?"

"Let's go with the harvest metaphor instead. When you go out collecting the sheaves you may not feel like you're doing something significant, but it needs to be done. And later when you need those sheaves, some small part of you is grateful to have gathered them."

I almost got an unwanted laugh out of the turkey. "Do you even know what a sheaf is?"

"No clue. It's harvest related. The point is, Thanksgiving is important, even if it's not immediately discernible why. It's a landmark in the annual passage of the seasons that keeps the holidays from going by too fast. We may not sing Thanksgiving carols, but if even that one single moment where the feast is revealed causes people to become consciously aware that today, and no other day, is Thanksgiving, then isn't that enough of a reason to say it still means something?"

The turkey generously absorbed my rambling with dignity before hopping up onto its legs. "Right. Come on then."

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Nowhere. I just feel like walking."

"Did I help at all?"

The turkey suppressed its condescension. "If you call 'transforming the problem into preposterousness' helping, then yes."

I smiled and said "You're welcome." And we strolled together for a little while.

The Carousel: Calm Tides

I took an online writing course in October/early November, and this is one of the assignments I submitted for feedback (and not very good feedback). I hope you enjoy it more than my virtual classmates did.

Calm Tides

The sun was just beginning its descent to the horizon over an ocean without waves as Zelphina peered across the beach; empty except for one occupant. Her name was Anomaly. The shapeshifter. The only vestige from her home world to have survived with her. In a stupid sunhat.

Zelphina exhaled a reptilian growl as she crossed the cooling sands. Anomaly was on a cell phone, talking about expenditures and marketing and other gibberish that Zelphina could honestly not bring herself to give a damn about. Anomaly smiled at her as she approached, giving the ground next to her a pat. But Zelphina kept standing.

Anomaly finished her conversation and turned off the phone. “Blossoming credit union,” she explained. “I’m going to be backing them.”

“Murderess.” The word slipped through Zelphina’s lips.

Anomaly was non-plussed. “Your mom was a murderess. I’m an executioner. Haven’t you figured out the difference by now?”

“Do you have any idea what you did to me?”

“Yes, sweetie. I never forget anything.” Anomaly’s body elongated so her eyes were on Zelphina’s level. “Do you know what I did to you?”

“You turned me into an abomination!”

“No Zel. Tourmal, your unrequited ex-lover turned you into a science project.” Anomaly was now the shape of her current persona on her feet. “You and I? We’re going to be sharing this world for the foreseeable future. Can we please try to come to an understanding?”

There were nearly tears in Zelphina’s eyes but she willed them back. “I never did anything to you!”

“You’re right,” said Anomaly. “You are absolutely right. I am a bitch. It is in my nature to be so. Does my admitting that help you in any way?”

Zelphina shook her head.

“Exactly,” said Anomaly. “We’re stuck here, on this dumb primitive asteroid. Indefinitely. But we have an empty beach and calm waters. Can we please just bask in the metaphor?”

“What is it you want?””

“I want to apologize.”

Zelphina glared at her. “I had wires piercing every pore in my skin-”

“They were crystal shards penetrating your muscles, and there were twenty-eight of them.”

Zelphina shoved Anomaly’s form to the ground. “What is the difference to ME?”

Anomaly transformed into her natural gelatinous texture before reclaiming her previous standing shape. “Point taken. Continue.”

Zelphina rubbed her eyes. “Would you please get rid of that stupid sunhat.”

“I thought you’d find it becoming,” Anomaly grinned.

“It’s becoming impossible to take you seriously in it,” Zelphina snarled.

“Fine.” The hat dissolved into an array of cropped black hair. “Happy?”

Zelphina sighed. “Yes, that makes me hate you so much less.”

“Good. Then sit down with me.”

Zelphina sunk to the ground, just enduring the conversation for as long as she had to. Anomaly sat behind her and began massaging her neck. Zelphina leaned away. “What are you doing?”

“Being nice,” Anomaly pulled her back to where she was before. “Don’t give me shit about it. Why do you hate me so much?”

“I just TOLD you-”

“You do know Tourmal and I were victims of a psychic attack, right? It brought out both of our evil impulses.”

“You never needed the help.”

“Zel, I’m a bitch. I’m not an evil bitch, and you know it. That was your mother, who I am not. And I’m not going to pick up the tab for her just because I’m the one who is still standing.”

Zelphina just lowered her head giving no response to the neck rub Anomaly was bestowing on her.

“Why didn’t you ever hate Tourmal?” asked Anomaly. “The guy broke your heart when he wasn’t an evil bastard. He was the one who strapped you into the apparatus, I was just the assistant. Why does he reap the benefit of your absolution?”

“Because that wasn’t him.”

“Zel?” Anomaly discontinued her massage therapy and slithered around to face her. “Tourmal was never going to love you. He was attracted to a darkness that your heart just doesn’t have.”

“I went to Hell when I died! Was that not darkness enough.”

“You never belonged there. You were not like the rest of us. To this day you still view yourself as some kind of a monster. But the reality is, our world was a breeding ground for monsters and you were an angel that we didn’t deserve.”

Zelphina turned her head away, placing her palm over her mouth in case another word slipped out. She almost choked on her own breath when she heard Tourmal’s voice in front of her.

“I never could love her.”

Zelphina’s jaw fell as the tears she’d been commanding back chose this moment to ignore the orders. “Anomaly, don’t-”

“These were his words exactly,” said Anomaly through Tourmal’s voice. “I wish I could have loved her, but I just couldn’t. She’s too good.”

“Anomaly-”

“Do you want to know why we put you in that horrible device?”

“No.”

“With all of the evil in him unlocked, he said to me ‘It’s the cruelest thing I can think of’.”

The back of Zelphina’s hand struck the face of Tourmal so hard it spun on his neck. Anomaly’s body shifted unwillingly back to its natural form. A ripple pulsed through her as she regained her composure. She nodded. “Okay, loose nerve.”

“Don’t you ever,” stammered Zelphina, “put his face in front of me again.”

“Right.” Anomaly moved into a sitting position next to Zelphina. “So-”

“So that’s your apology?”

“No, that’s my ice breaker. This is my apology.” She nudge Zelphina with her shoulder. “You and I are the last of our world. We’re all that we have left of it. It’s quite possible we’re going to need each other.”

“You’re kidding me, right? You want us to be friends?”

Anomaly laughed. “No, sweetie. I’m not asking for a miracle. I want us to be family.”

“Family?” Zelphina repeated like she’d forgotten the meaning of the word.

“Yes. I want you to keep me from hurting this world.”

Zelphina spent several moments unable to speak. When the words finally came to her, they filled her with fear.

“Nommie, what have you done?”

It's Your Sequel, Lucy van Pelt!

And, no. Craig Schulz didn't text me last night to discuss the future of the Peanuts franchise.

There are so many wonderful things about the newest Peanuts film, but there was this one subtle moment I'm finding myself preoccupied with. Near the beginning of the movie, Charlie Brown's classmates are anxiously awaiting the arrival of the new student (the little red-haired girl). They all perk up when the door opens. But then they see Charlie Brown standing there, and are quite unfiltered about their disappointment, even blaming him for existing.

And somewhere in the midst of this mass negativity, Lucy gives him a truly sincere greeting. And it doesn't come across as delivered out of pity or some kind of recovery. Lucy wears her emotions on her sleeves. She's genuinely pleased to see him, and unaffected by her peers.

It was in that moment that I realized just how layered her character is. I'm not suggesting Lucy is Charles Schulz's greatest character, by she may very well be his most complex. I once read a retrospective on the Peanuts comic strip, where a source close to Charles Schulz suggested that he really got out a lot of his own personal shadows through Lucy.

So I'd like to take a little time exploring her character with the hope of supporting my claim that a Peanuts sequel, told from her point of view, could be the The Empire Strikes Back of the series. For this study, I'm treating the whole body of work in the franchise as equally authoritative (and the stage production Dog Sees God as a disrespectful mockery). Charles Schulz only considered the comic strips canon, but the characters were accurately portrayed in the specials and films, and character is what I'm looking at.

Who is Lucy?

We know a lot about her even if we don't know why she's that way. She's loud. Even when she's happy, she's usually loud about it. She might have a certain narcissism about her. She quite confidently refers to herself as 'pretty' and 'beautiful' even if nobody else does. This doesn't come across as a mask for insecurities, I believe she believes that.

We don't know too much about her parents. She's gotten into offscreen/panel fights with her mother on multiple occasions, who has described her own daughter as a fussbudget, to Lucy's offense. Just inducting who Mrs. van Pelt is from Lucy's point of view, you'd think the mom might actually have Lucy's temperament as well. But Linus's interaction with her paint the picture of a caring, nurturing, stable mom. I'm positive their father has been mentioned as being equally supportive of the children.

And just to answer the elephant in the room question of where the hell the adults are in this neighborhood. It's simple. They're around, but the stories and the humor work better by editing them out. This isn't reality. This is metaphor. It's real feelings, not real events.

But back to Lucy. It's worth noting how she looks up to 'grandma' who I've always assumed to be from the mother's side, and bonds with her over her hatred of Linus's blanket. It's really the only element within Lucy's upbringing that seems to affect her overall personality, so I guess we need to look elsewhere to really crack her.

Violet Gray, the Queen 'B'

You ever notice how the female characters in Peanuts tend to have more power than the males? The clearest example was in Race for Your Life, Charlie Brown when the girls voted the boys out of the cabin, never giving the boys a say in the matter (or receiving much of a protest). A better example was in the aforementioned blanket-hating grandma story arc. Linus finally throws down at the end, declaring that their mother is the only person with the authority to tell him to give up his blanket.

I'm sure we're all familiar with the original strip, featuring the (sort of) character Shermy at his most talkative. The inherent hatred of Charlie Brown is there, right out of the gate. But whereas Shermy is content to just detest Charlie Brown behind his back, the girls pick up the concept and run with it. Patty seems to be mean to Charlie Brown because she feels like she's supposed to be. But then Violet blooms.

Violet is a bitch. She goes out of her way to be cruel to Chuck. You can tell she's a classic bully, in that she's deeply insecure and only feels better about herself when Charlie Brown is miserable. I would argue that Violet's antagonistic behavior filtering through Patty and Frieda is a lot of the source of Charlie Brown's mistreatment.

Lucy gets in on it some, but she's no Violet groupie. Lucy is her own person for better or worse. While she's still clearly a bully, it doesn't come from the same place as it does with Violet.

"I'll Hold the Football..."

Lucy's relationship with Charlie Brown is perfectly summed up with this classic metaphor. Lucy will always promise to never pull the ball away, citing some kind of clause or rationale to convince Charlie Brown that this time will be different. He accepts her words and gets the outcome we all know is coming, whereupon Lucy delivers the loophole in her logic that she'd withheld prior.

But let's back it up a bit. Lucy has the alpha female personality. The only reason Violet has her groupies is because Lucy doesn't want them. That's petty shit, and Lucy is somehow above it. Instead of being the popular girl, she voluntarily spends most of her time with the class loser. What's all that about?

Well, her motivations are kind of complicated. On the one hand, Lucy seems unconsciously aware that the Peanuts world has a certain rhythm to it. Charlie Brown is meant to fail. It's not a fair balance, but it's the one they live in. And if she helps that failure along then it restores the status quo.

Take the end of A Boy Named Charlie Brown, where Chuck has experienced his most televised failure at the spelling bee and is REALLY having trouble getting out of bed. He finally drags himself into the world and slowly absorbs the fact that nothing has changed; clouds roll, birds sing, life moves on. And there on cue is Lucy, with the football. He thinks he's hidden, but she knows he's there. And with some sort of psychic power, she pulls the ball away with perfect timing. "Welcome home," she tells in with a sweet/sadistic combination that Maleficent would approve of.

Now step back to that televised moment when Charlie Brown blows the spelling bee on an easy word. Look at Lucy's reaction. She's livid, because she really WANTED him to win. There's the complication. She wants him to both win AND lose; the latter because it's comforting, the former because she really does care about him.

Now does that make Lucy a good friend? No. She's doing more harm than good. In real life, she would be considered abusive. But again, this isn't real life. This is where we go to explore real life issues in a safe, fictional setting. It's not as simple as her just being a bully like Violet. Lucy has a benevolence. I always loved the bit in It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown when Lucy wakes up in the middle of the night to check on Linus, collects him from the pumpkin patch and puts him in bed without ever saying a word. I always wondered if Linus ever figured out that Lucy had come to his rescue.

Did Beethoven Know Jingle Bells?

This is the big one.

Why Lucy is attracted to Schroeder isn't important. The fact that she can't have him is. Even Lucy knows what it feels like to be Charlie Brown, and approval from Schroeder is her football. So many questions. Would Lucy lose interest if Schroeder started paying attention to her? Um...okay...one question then.

Lucy is fully aware that she's a pest, but Schroeder clearly doesn't mind her being there until she starts competing with his music. And here is where the potential for a whole sequel centered around Lucy comes into play. What if we shake up this dynamic?

Here's my idea for the premise. Lucy gets tired of getting no reaction out of Schroeder. She goes to Charlie Brown, who she deems as the master of continuing to try even though failure is inevitable. She even sits him in her chair at the psychiatrists booth (but still charges him a nickel for the professional consultation). He tells her what he always does and Lucy ponders it, coming to the logical conclusion that the fact that Charlie Brown keeps trying the same approach is why he continues to fail.

Thus she tries a different tactic with Schroeder, seven words to be precise. "Can you teach me how to play?"

Of course Lucy isn't really interested in learning, she's only interested in Schroeder, but after a bit of banter she convinced him that she really is in it for the music. For a while, things are working well between them. But eventually her lack of skill and passion will cause Schroeder to say something that really hurts her. He only means it as a rejection of her seriousness about learning to play but she feels it as a rejection of her personally. This is the all important protagonist's breaking point.

At that point, who does she turn to for help, and are they able to help? How does she deal with that kind of pain? When Schroeder (himself a bit of a tough nut to crack) finally understands the situation, how does he react?

We're more than familiar with the way Charlie Brown views the world around him. For once I would love to see that world through the eyes of his antithesis. It would also give us a chance to see what some of the blank slate characters like Patty and Shermy really do with their daily lives. The world that Charles Schulz created for us is paradoxically magical in its ordinariness.

As Craig Schulz has demonstrated, there's still some life in the creation. We may be out of holidays to explicate, but Happiness is a Warm Blanket, Charlie Brown was the first in-universe deconstruction of these classic characters. It's was a bold move that really paid off. The new Peanuts film built that concept into a thing of beauty.

By the way, you might enjoy this six minute short student film my wife and I were in several years ago called Mr. Failure. I play a husband trying to kill his wife and failing repeatedly. We were halfway through filming before it occurred to us that we were essentially playing Charlie Brown and Lucy as a married couple.

That'll be five cents please.