Miles Watson's Blog: ANTAGONY: BECAUSE EVERYONE IS ENTITLED TO MY OPINION - Posts Tagged "buffy-the-vampire-slayer"
What Do You Watch At Christmastime?
Christmas is almost upon us, and the time has come for me to dust off my favorite Christmas-themed DVDs. Now, it's true that the speedy passage of time often makes me wonder aloud, "Christ, is it time to watch these bloody things again?" But this feeling of dismay never prevents me from viewing the films and television episodes in question. Indeed, I watch them whether I'm in the mood to do so or not. Like eggnog, mistletoe, and hideous green-and-red sweaters, they are simply part of the fabric of Christmastime, and you've just gotta deal with it.
MAGNUM, P.I. : "Operation Silent Night" (Season 4, Episode 10). I grew up with MAGNUM and this episode is a fine example of the mix of witty writing, superb chemistry and deep but never sloppy vein of sentimentality that ran all through the long-running series. On Christmas Eve, T.C. (Larry Mosley) is transporting his buddies Magnum (Tom Selleck) and Rick (Larry Manetti), as well as frenemy Higgins (John Hillerman), to various spots in the Hawaiian islands in his trusty helicopter. T.C. is, as always, feeling angry at being used as a flying chauffeur, especially since he's planning on flying home in the morning to see his family in New Orleans for the first time in years. T.C.'s evil humor triggers the usual four-way squabbling between the group, which intensifies when engine trouble forces them to set down on a deserted little island in the middle of nowhere. It turns out the island is deserted because the U.S. Navy uses it for gunnery practice, but our heroes don't know that -- yet. They're too busy fighting, trying ridiculous ways to get off the island, and making grisly discoveries left over from WW2. A perfect balance of comedy, dramatic tension and Christmas spirit (the scene where Magnum insists on a proper military funeral for the long-dead Japanese Zero pilot discovered in his wrecked fighter is beautiful and touching), this episode is really about family -- and how adversity forces these four people to recognize how much they love each other, even if they really do prefer to fight most of the time.
SHERLOCK HOLMES: "The Blue Carbuncle" (Season 1, Episode 7). Dozens of men, including some of the very best actors ever to walk the earth, have played Sherlock Holmes over the last century or so, but there really is only one Holmes, and it was Jeremy Brett. His turn on Grenada TV's superb HOLMES series (41 episodes, five of which were feature-length films, shot from 1984 - 1994) is a masterclass in acting. It's a horrific pity that Brett died so young -- before the Internet, really, and certainly before cable TV had the omnipresence it has today; elsewise he'd be as beloved and revered as Patrick Stewart, Ian McKellen or any of the other Elder Statesmen of Acting. The difficulty of playing Holmes, of course, is in making such a cold-blooded, unfeeling character, one prone to arrogance, rudeness and a complex form of self-pity, likeable to an audience. And Arthur Conan-Doyle's "The Blue Carbuncle," written by John Hawkesworth and Paul Finney, must have been a particular challenge, because it takes place at Christmastime, a holiday which runs somewhat contrary to Holmes' rather Scrooge-like outer nature. Yet Brett pulls it off and delivers one of the most touching -- yet unsappy -- Christmas tales of my experience. In this tale, a thief steals the famous Blue Carbuncle gem from the Countess Morcar. A convicted jewel thief, now working as a plumber, is arrested for the crime, but Scotland Yard can't find the stone itself, and the plumber insists on his innocence. Holmes is more than surprised, then, when a local commissionaire appears on Christmas Eve and tells him he's found the Carbuncle -- located in the belly of a Christmas goose, no less! Holmes, with trusty sidekick Watson (David Burke) at his side, immediately investigate, but this mystery taxes even the genius of the world's best detective. And when he finally solves the puzzle, he's presented with a moral dilemma which forces the icy logician to choose between bringing a criminal to justice or dispensing a more humane, Christmas-themed justice of his own. The last scenes of this episode are deeply moving, and the atmosphere of 1880s London in December strongly reminiscent of Dickens. Which leads me to....
A CHRISTMAS CAROL (1984): There are nearly as many versions of this story as there are actors who have played Sherlock Holmes; originally penned in 1843 by Charles Dickens, this is arguably one of the most famous stories in history, and ne'er has it been done as well, much less better, than in Clive Donner's made-for-TV adaptation starring the late great George C. Scott. Though best-remembered for his brilliant portrayal of General Patton in the film of the same name, I would argue that Scott, who had an enormously storied career, was never better than in his portrayal of the heartless, ruthless miser-businessman Ebenezer Scrooge. Scott was notoriously tough and uncompromising in real life, and he brings those qualities to Scrooge, who defends himself stubbornly against the three Ghosts (four, if you include Jacob Marley) who come to reclaim his soul from the abyss of greed into which it has sunk. It would be pretentious of me to outline the plot of such a well-known story, but I can say that Scott's blistering performance is well-supported by David Warner (as Bob Cratchit), Edward Woodward (as the cheerfully menacing Ghost of Christmas Past), Frank Finlay (a badass Jacob Marley), Susannah York (tough but loveable Mrs. Cratchit), Anthony Walters (adorable as Tiny Tim), and Roger Rees (Fred Hollywell). There are so many goosebump-inducing, tear-jerking moments in this gem as to defy description, so I'll just say that the scene near the end, where Scrooge shows up to his hitherto estranged nephew's home -- well, the reaction of Rees to his dread uncle's appearance ("My God! It's uncle Ebenezer!" gets me every time. So too the entire film.
A CHRISTMAS STORY (1983): I'm sorry, but if you don't like this movie you either don't understand childhood, have no sense of nostalgia for a simpler, less cynical era, or you just fucking lack a pulse. This instant classic is the story of Ralphie Parker (Peter Billingsley), a kid growing up in 1940s near the Great Lakes, whose sole desire in the world is to own a Red Ryder B.B. gun. Ralphie's dream is frustrated at every step by the seeming indifference of his old man (the crustily wonderful Darren McGavin), and the complete disapproval of his mother (perfectly portrayed by Melinda Dillon), teacher (Tedde Moore), and hell, even the Santa Claus at the mall (Jeff Gillen). I don't know what I love more about this movie: Ralphie's single-minded obsession with obtaining the rifle as a Christmas present (he stops at nothing), the hilarious narration of adult Ralphie (voiced brilliantly by Jean Shepherd), Old Man Parker and his various fetishes (lamps, turkeys and swearing, in that order), the brutality of winter in the Midwest, or the trouble Ralph has with neighborhood bully Scott Farkus (Zack Ward). Somehow writers Jean Shepherd and Leigh Brown and writer-director Bob Clark have captured childhood at its very essence in this movie. Ralphie's belief that owning the B.B. gun will somehow complete him is not so much a comment on hollow materialism as it is a frank statement of the reality of American childhood, but this movie is not about bullshit, social-commentary subtext; it's about the simplistic yet utterly honest way children think about their parents, kid brothers, teachers, friends and life in general; and it's about love and the strange forms it takes, especially at Christmastime, when we express our love with bowling balls, hideous lamps, and Red Ryder B.B. guns.
M*A*S*H: "Dear Sis" (Season 7, Episode 15) and "Death Takes A Holiday" (Season 9, Episode 5). When a show runs as long as M*A*S*H, it's bound to touch on certain themes/holidays more than once. M*A*S*H touched on Christmas stories a number of times in its 11-year run, but never more poignantly than in these two stories. The first, "Dear Sis," is written from the point of view of the hospital's company chaplain, Father Mulcahy (William Christopher), at Christmas. The chaplain, writing his nun-sister, bemoans the feeling of uselessness that beset him at all times, but especially now. No one comes to confession; no one attends his services; he can't perform surgery and he wonders what good he's doing in this miserable, bone-chilling, war-torn landscape. Hawkeye (Alan Alda) intervenes to make Mulcahy realize that he provides more strength to the rest of the company than he realizes, but it's a tiny act of compassion the priest gives to the snotty, insufferable, miserly Maj. Winchester (David Ogden Stiers) that makes this episode a goosbumper: “You saved me, Father. You lowered a bucket into the well of my despair and you raised me up to the light of day."
"Death Takes A Holiday," while even darker, nevertheless properly communicates the spirit of Christmas as I understand it. In this jarring story, a married-with-children soldier who has been shot through the head on Christmas Day is taken to the hospital, where B.J. Hunnicutt (Mike Farrell), labors to keep him breathing even though his brain has been destroyed. B.J.'s theory is that no family should have to remember Christmas "as the day that daddy died." Joined in his private crusade by Hawkeye and Margaret (Loretta Swit), B.J. finds himself in conflict with Col. Potter (Harry Morgan) and Father Mulcahy, who have different reasons for questioning what B.J. is doing. The acting in this episode is superb, aided by a crackling script written by Mike Farrell himself (who also directed). When B.J. snarls, "You can't have him!" to Mulcahy, who is trying to administer the Last Rites, the priest's response is epic: "I try to stay out of the way because what you people do here is so important but, understand, at a time like this, what I have to do is just as important. And no one, not you nor anyone else is going to stand between me and the performance of my sacred office." As if this wasn't enough, there is a terrific sub-plot involving the normally villainous Maj. Winchester and his attempt to perform an anonymous act of charity, which -- no good deed being unpunished -- leads to him being further ostracized by the unit. This sub-plot concludes with a beautiful moment between Winchester and Corporal Max Klinger (Jamie Farr), in which they use each others' first names which, after all these years, touches me just as it did when I was a little kid.
BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER: "Amends" (Season 3, Episode 10, written & directed by Joss Whedon). It has been said by many that BUFFY was never better than during its various "holiday/birthday" episodes, and "Amends" is certainly evidence in support of that argument. The story revolves around the character of Angel, Buffy's on-again, off-again love interest, who left the show for his own spin-off series at the end of this particular season. For those not familiar with the lore of the show, Angel (David Boreanaz) is an vampire from the 18th century who was so vicious, so diabolically evil, that after 150 years of vile atrocities he was cursed with a soul as punishment for all the horrible things he had done. Explaining the brooding misery in which he lives to Buffy (Sarah Michelle Gellar), Angel says, "You don't know what it's like to have done the things I've done...and to care." With Buffy's help, Angel uses his superhuman abilities for good, helping her slay demons and right wrongs, but he carries a core of guilt for his long history of wanton violence that he cannot escape. In "Amends," which takes place on Christmas Eve, Angel finds himself tormented by the ghost of one of his victims, Jenny Calendar (Robia La Morte). Forcing all of his guilt and self-loathing to the surface by making him re-experience his atrocities, and driving him to the brink of madness, Jenny eventually offers him a way out...by encouraging him to commit suicide. If this sounds grim, it is; the episode is unsparing in its depiction of the gleeful sadism with which Angelus (the evil version of Angel) dispatched his helpless victims. The Christmas-spirit moments come later, when Buffy discovers that Jenny's ghost is perhaps not what it appears to be, and tries to save Angel's life. I can't say more without giving away the store, but the ending of this episode is not what you'd expect, but somehow falls fully within the spirit of Christmas.
Well, that about sums up my list. It's hardly exhaustive and I suppose some will mock me for not including, for example, IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE or MIRACLE ON 34th STREET, to the pile, but Christmas is all about family tradition...and these are mine. I wish you the best as you indulge in yours.
MAGNUM, P.I. : "Operation Silent Night" (Season 4, Episode 10). I grew up with MAGNUM and this episode is a fine example of the mix of witty writing, superb chemistry and deep but never sloppy vein of sentimentality that ran all through the long-running series. On Christmas Eve, T.C. (Larry Mosley) is transporting his buddies Magnum (Tom Selleck) and Rick (Larry Manetti), as well as frenemy Higgins (John Hillerman), to various spots in the Hawaiian islands in his trusty helicopter. T.C. is, as always, feeling angry at being used as a flying chauffeur, especially since he's planning on flying home in the morning to see his family in New Orleans for the first time in years. T.C.'s evil humor triggers the usual four-way squabbling between the group, which intensifies when engine trouble forces them to set down on a deserted little island in the middle of nowhere. It turns out the island is deserted because the U.S. Navy uses it for gunnery practice, but our heroes don't know that -- yet. They're too busy fighting, trying ridiculous ways to get off the island, and making grisly discoveries left over from WW2. A perfect balance of comedy, dramatic tension and Christmas spirit (the scene where Magnum insists on a proper military funeral for the long-dead Japanese Zero pilot discovered in his wrecked fighter is beautiful and touching), this episode is really about family -- and how adversity forces these four people to recognize how much they love each other, even if they really do prefer to fight most of the time.
SHERLOCK HOLMES: "The Blue Carbuncle" (Season 1, Episode 7). Dozens of men, including some of the very best actors ever to walk the earth, have played Sherlock Holmes over the last century or so, but there really is only one Holmes, and it was Jeremy Brett. His turn on Grenada TV's superb HOLMES series (41 episodes, five of which were feature-length films, shot from 1984 - 1994) is a masterclass in acting. It's a horrific pity that Brett died so young -- before the Internet, really, and certainly before cable TV had the omnipresence it has today; elsewise he'd be as beloved and revered as Patrick Stewart, Ian McKellen or any of the other Elder Statesmen of Acting. The difficulty of playing Holmes, of course, is in making such a cold-blooded, unfeeling character, one prone to arrogance, rudeness and a complex form of self-pity, likeable to an audience. And Arthur Conan-Doyle's "The Blue Carbuncle," written by John Hawkesworth and Paul Finney, must have been a particular challenge, because it takes place at Christmastime, a holiday which runs somewhat contrary to Holmes' rather Scrooge-like outer nature. Yet Brett pulls it off and delivers one of the most touching -- yet unsappy -- Christmas tales of my experience. In this tale, a thief steals the famous Blue Carbuncle gem from the Countess Morcar. A convicted jewel thief, now working as a plumber, is arrested for the crime, but Scotland Yard can't find the stone itself, and the plumber insists on his innocence. Holmes is more than surprised, then, when a local commissionaire appears on Christmas Eve and tells him he's found the Carbuncle -- located in the belly of a Christmas goose, no less! Holmes, with trusty sidekick Watson (David Burke) at his side, immediately investigate, but this mystery taxes even the genius of the world's best detective. And when he finally solves the puzzle, he's presented with a moral dilemma which forces the icy logician to choose between bringing a criminal to justice or dispensing a more humane, Christmas-themed justice of his own. The last scenes of this episode are deeply moving, and the atmosphere of 1880s London in December strongly reminiscent of Dickens. Which leads me to....
A CHRISTMAS CAROL (1984): There are nearly as many versions of this story as there are actors who have played Sherlock Holmes; originally penned in 1843 by Charles Dickens, this is arguably one of the most famous stories in history, and ne'er has it been done as well, much less better, than in Clive Donner's made-for-TV adaptation starring the late great George C. Scott. Though best-remembered for his brilliant portrayal of General Patton in the film of the same name, I would argue that Scott, who had an enormously storied career, was never better than in his portrayal of the heartless, ruthless miser-businessman Ebenezer Scrooge. Scott was notoriously tough and uncompromising in real life, and he brings those qualities to Scrooge, who defends himself stubbornly against the three Ghosts (four, if you include Jacob Marley) who come to reclaim his soul from the abyss of greed into which it has sunk. It would be pretentious of me to outline the plot of such a well-known story, but I can say that Scott's blistering performance is well-supported by David Warner (as Bob Cratchit), Edward Woodward (as the cheerfully menacing Ghost of Christmas Past), Frank Finlay (a badass Jacob Marley), Susannah York (tough but loveable Mrs. Cratchit), Anthony Walters (adorable as Tiny Tim), and Roger Rees (Fred Hollywell). There are so many goosebump-inducing, tear-jerking moments in this gem as to defy description, so I'll just say that the scene near the end, where Scrooge shows up to his hitherto estranged nephew's home -- well, the reaction of Rees to his dread uncle's appearance ("My God! It's uncle Ebenezer!" gets me every time. So too the entire film.
A CHRISTMAS STORY (1983): I'm sorry, but if you don't like this movie you either don't understand childhood, have no sense of nostalgia for a simpler, less cynical era, or you just fucking lack a pulse. This instant classic is the story of Ralphie Parker (Peter Billingsley), a kid growing up in 1940s near the Great Lakes, whose sole desire in the world is to own a Red Ryder B.B. gun. Ralphie's dream is frustrated at every step by the seeming indifference of his old man (the crustily wonderful Darren McGavin), and the complete disapproval of his mother (perfectly portrayed by Melinda Dillon), teacher (Tedde Moore), and hell, even the Santa Claus at the mall (Jeff Gillen). I don't know what I love more about this movie: Ralphie's single-minded obsession with obtaining the rifle as a Christmas present (he stops at nothing), the hilarious narration of adult Ralphie (voiced brilliantly by Jean Shepherd), Old Man Parker and his various fetishes (lamps, turkeys and swearing, in that order), the brutality of winter in the Midwest, or the trouble Ralph has with neighborhood bully Scott Farkus (Zack Ward). Somehow writers Jean Shepherd and Leigh Brown and writer-director Bob Clark have captured childhood at its very essence in this movie. Ralphie's belief that owning the B.B. gun will somehow complete him is not so much a comment on hollow materialism as it is a frank statement of the reality of American childhood, but this movie is not about bullshit, social-commentary subtext; it's about the simplistic yet utterly honest way children think about their parents, kid brothers, teachers, friends and life in general; and it's about love and the strange forms it takes, especially at Christmastime, when we express our love with bowling balls, hideous lamps, and Red Ryder B.B. guns.
M*A*S*H: "Dear Sis" (Season 7, Episode 15) and "Death Takes A Holiday" (Season 9, Episode 5). When a show runs as long as M*A*S*H, it's bound to touch on certain themes/holidays more than once. M*A*S*H touched on Christmas stories a number of times in its 11-year run, but never more poignantly than in these two stories. The first, "Dear Sis," is written from the point of view of the hospital's company chaplain, Father Mulcahy (William Christopher), at Christmas. The chaplain, writing his nun-sister, bemoans the feeling of uselessness that beset him at all times, but especially now. No one comes to confession; no one attends his services; he can't perform surgery and he wonders what good he's doing in this miserable, bone-chilling, war-torn landscape. Hawkeye (Alan Alda) intervenes to make Mulcahy realize that he provides more strength to the rest of the company than he realizes, but it's a tiny act of compassion the priest gives to the snotty, insufferable, miserly Maj. Winchester (David Ogden Stiers) that makes this episode a goosbumper: “You saved me, Father. You lowered a bucket into the well of my despair and you raised me up to the light of day."
"Death Takes A Holiday," while even darker, nevertheless properly communicates the spirit of Christmas as I understand it. In this jarring story, a married-with-children soldier who has been shot through the head on Christmas Day is taken to the hospital, where B.J. Hunnicutt (Mike Farrell), labors to keep him breathing even though his brain has been destroyed. B.J.'s theory is that no family should have to remember Christmas "as the day that daddy died." Joined in his private crusade by Hawkeye and Margaret (Loretta Swit), B.J. finds himself in conflict with Col. Potter (Harry Morgan) and Father Mulcahy, who have different reasons for questioning what B.J. is doing. The acting in this episode is superb, aided by a crackling script written by Mike Farrell himself (who also directed). When B.J. snarls, "You can't have him!" to Mulcahy, who is trying to administer the Last Rites, the priest's response is epic: "I try to stay out of the way because what you people do here is so important but, understand, at a time like this, what I have to do is just as important. And no one, not you nor anyone else is going to stand between me and the performance of my sacred office." As if this wasn't enough, there is a terrific sub-plot involving the normally villainous Maj. Winchester and his attempt to perform an anonymous act of charity, which -- no good deed being unpunished -- leads to him being further ostracized by the unit. This sub-plot concludes with a beautiful moment between Winchester and Corporal Max Klinger (Jamie Farr), in which they use each others' first names which, after all these years, touches me just as it did when I was a little kid.
BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER: "Amends" (Season 3, Episode 10, written & directed by Joss Whedon). It has been said by many that BUFFY was never better than during its various "holiday/birthday" episodes, and "Amends" is certainly evidence in support of that argument. The story revolves around the character of Angel, Buffy's on-again, off-again love interest, who left the show for his own spin-off series at the end of this particular season. For those not familiar with the lore of the show, Angel (David Boreanaz) is an vampire from the 18th century who was so vicious, so diabolically evil, that after 150 years of vile atrocities he was cursed with a soul as punishment for all the horrible things he had done. Explaining the brooding misery in which he lives to Buffy (Sarah Michelle Gellar), Angel says, "You don't know what it's like to have done the things I've done...and to care." With Buffy's help, Angel uses his superhuman abilities for good, helping her slay demons and right wrongs, but he carries a core of guilt for his long history of wanton violence that he cannot escape. In "Amends," which takes place on Christmas Eve, Angel finds himself tormented by the ghost of one of his victims, Jenny Calendar (Robia La Morte). Forcing all of his guilt and self-loathing to the surface by making him re-experience his atrocities, and driving him to the brink of madness, Jenny eventually offers him a way out...by encouraging him to commit suicide. If this sounds grim, it is; the episode is unsparing in its depiction of the gleeful sadism with which Angelus (the evil version of Angel) dispatched his helpless victims. The Christmas-spirit moments come later, when Buffy discovers that Jenny's ghost is perhaps not what it appears to be, and tries to save Angel's life. I can't say more without giving away the store, but the ending of this episode is not what you'd expect, but somehow falls fully within the spirit of Christmas.
Well, that about sums up my list. It's hardly exhaustive and I suppose some will mock me for not including, for example, IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE or MIRACLE ON 34th STREET, to the pile, but Christmas is all about family tradition...and these are mine. I wish you the best as you indulge in yours.
ANTAGONY: BECAUSE EVERYONE IS ENTITLED TO MY OPINION
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