A Blog Post in Which Both Dr. King and the Film, A Face in the Crowd, Are Discussed

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Today is a federal holiday set aside to honor Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Many holidays are in name only. On Memorial Day there is lip service given to those Americans who have died while “fighting for their country," while on Veteran’s Day lip service is given to those Americans who have served in the military but did not die “fighting for their country.” President’s Day is a bit confusing. We used to have Washington’s birthday and Lincoln’s birthday, but now they’re packaged together and some people seem to think we are honoring all our past presidents (Warren Harding? Andrew Johnson? Richard Nixon?). Thanksgiving, Independence Day, New Year’s Day and Christmas are holidays that — to varying degrees — Americans actually recognize for their intended purpose. As for Dr. King’s birthday, there are speeches, marches, and writings on this day that seek to give voice to and honor Dr. King’s messages. But mostly he is an avatar for the Civil Rights Movement, a way for all but the most bigoted Americans to feel good about the defeat of Jim Crow and the passage of Civil Rights legislation. Americans pat themselves on the back for — supposedly — ending the 100 plus years of the suppression of African Americans that followed slavery. What has been lost and generally goes unacknowledged is Dr. King’s real legacy, most particularly his belief in non-violence.

Dr. King was passionate believer in non-violence. He said: “The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy, instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it. Through violence you may murder the liar, but you cannot murder the lie, nor establish the truth. Through violence you may murder the hater, but you do not murder hate. In fact, violence merely increases hate.” The United States remains today a country riddled by violence, with mass shootings a daily occurrence, police beatings of citizens (usually Black) still common and military actions including drone strikes and assassinations perpetrated (always on people of color) in the Middle East.

Dr. King’s message became more radical in the years after the 1963 March on Washington. Today he would be chastised by the right as a socialist as indeed many of the proposals he made for curing what ailed society were straight out of today’s Socialist Democratic playbook. He also became a vocal critic of the Vietnam War and would undoubtedly today be vociferous in his opposition to this country’s military adventures in Third World countries.

Madison Avenue has done a lot to co-opt the image and legacy of Dr. King. They have sanitized him and made him an icon and diluted his message. And part of the proof of it is that his birthday is, for the vast majority of Americans, merely an excuse for a three-day weekend.

Speaking of Madison Avenue….A few days ago I started a task that will take months. I am going through every post I’ve written on this blog in it’s nearly 12 years of existence and cleaning up typos, misspellings and bad punctuation. I am also removing posts that are just plain awful or are heavily reliant on links or videos that are no longer extant. Wish me luck. Anyhoo, one of the old posts I saw today was about the Eliza Kazan film, A Face in the Crowd (1957). I’m sure I haven’t watched it since I wrote the post in July of ’08 and I recall that back then it was my first viewing of the movie. I’d been thinking of revisiting Face and sure enough it’s on the Criterion Channel so I had my second viewing earlier today.

Andy Griffith in A Face in the Crowd

First of all it’s always difficult to watch a Kazan film given that he was a rat who named names to the House on UnAmerican Activities Committee (HUAC) back in the early Fifties. Then again by denying oneself of all his films you’re losing out on A Streetcar Named Desire (1951) and On the Waterfront (1954) something I’m unwilling to do. If I can watch movies that feature John Wayne, Walter Brennan or Charles Coburn I can certainly stomach a Kazan feature.

A Face in the Crowd is one of those movies that provides endless talking points. It is about a heavy-drinking drifter who is plucked out of an Arkansas jail and given a radio show. He has an exuberant folksy charm and can spin a yarn, make you laugh and — oddly enough — influence you. Larry ‘Lonesome’ Rhodes is endlessly appealing to the masses and wins over so many followers in northeast Arkansas that he is snatched up by a Memphis TV station and is so successful there that he lands a network TV job. It would be a typical rags to riches story if Lonesome didn’t amass so much power and become, as another character calls him, a demagogue in denim. Why he’s even got a national politician who’s running for the presidency under his sway.

While the people love Lonesome he’s not so keen on them. They are the pawns he uses in his efforts to gain increasingly more power and influence.

This larger-than-life character is portrayed by Andy Griffith who in three years would become known to the world as Sheriff Andy Taylor on his eponymous show, The Andy Griffith Show. Andys Taylor and Griffith were nothing like Lonesome being more charming and lovable than charismatic. Griffith is so associated with the Andy Taylor character (and to a lesser degree to the character of Matlock on the show of the same name) that is weird if not down-right unsettling seeing him play a combination of Huey Long, Arthur Godfrey, Will Rogers and Hank Williams. Indeed he calls to mind national figures of more recent times, notably our current president.

Patricia Neal gives a bravura performance — equaling her later Oscar-winning turn in Hud (1963) — as the woman who discovers him and unwittingly helps create the monster he becomes. Anthony Franciosa is the slick Madison Avenue agent who build the Lonesome empire and Walter Matthau is the cynical writer who sees right through him. (I was surprised to discover that not only did Face not win any Oscars, it didn’t even garner a nomination and further that it was not particularly well-received by critics. One can only surmise that its message was well ahead of its time.)

A Face in the Crowd is not a cautionary tale because clearly its message has not been paid the slightest attention to as evidenced by the rise of Trump. But it is a film worth exploring. It has of course a relevance to today but I daresay any sort of remake set in modern times would focus on social media rather than just TV. There’s a lot going on this excellent film including, obviously, populism and demagoguery and a look at American culture, especially as it was in the mid 20th century. Kazan’s direction is, as always, excellent and the cast is wonderful.

Muhammad Ali's Birthday, Goodbye Columbus, The Stupid Oscars -- I Don't Think I'll Call these Journal Entries Anymore

(Please note: I've decided to scrape the whole Journal thing. From now on these are just regular old blog posts.)
Happy Muhammad Ali’s birthday. The champ would have been 78 today. Ali, like The Beatles, has been a hero of mine since before I was even a teenager and has thus been a huge influence on me.  Here are some adjectives that only began to describe The Champ: brash, colorful, exciting, powerful, out-spoken, brave, resilient, charismatic, profound and the greatest. Ali was magnificent both inside and outside the ring. He could make the brutal sport of boxing seem almost elegant. Muhammad was quick with his fists and fast on his feet, could deliver terrible punishment and do it with a wink. Outside the ring he defied the US Government and refused to fight in the immoral war they were waging in Vietnam or participate at all in the military-industrial complex. He called out the nation’s racism and its disregard for the poor and oppressed. Ali was in many ways as important a figure in his time as Dr. King and Malcolm X. Ultimately he was accepted by the very “establishment” that he challenged. His wisdom and bravery recognized and his exploits celebrated. Muhammad Ali was an extraordinary man (as a middle school teacher I always made a point of telling my students just how extraordinary he was) and one of the great privileges of my life was shaking his hand.

Last night I watched Goodbye Columbus (1969) a film based on the novella by Philip Roth. It has just been released on DVD and I’m going to take the opportunity presented to me by having a blog to recommend you — in modern parlance — check it out. Like The Landlord (1970) which I alluded to on here earlier this week, it is very much of its time. It too holds up well after 50 years. Richard Benjamin stars. He was a big thing in the late Sixties and early Seventies, perhaps most notably for a TV show called He & She that he starred in with his wife, Paula Prentiss. His star faded rather quickly although he had numerous directing, writing and co-starring credits and is well-remembered today by old fogies such as myself. He had a nice career.  Benjamin’s co-star in Goodbye Columbus was Ali MacGraw, then an absolutely gorgeous 30 year-old on the brink of short lived stardom (the fact that she wasn’t a terribly gifted actor limited her career). She followed Columbus with the mega hit, Love Story (1970), a terrible film, then starred opposite Steve McQueen in The Getaway (1972), a terrific film. She subsequently was married to McQueen for five years. After the Getaway she had only 11 more acting credits, four of which were in television and none of which were in notable films.

But Benjamin and MacGraw had it going on in Columbus which was an unusual love story about a young man from The Bronx who is content to work at a public library and his love affair with a Radcliffe student from a well-to-do family. It is a funny, charming movie with hints that things could get very dark and you’re better left to see it yourself to find out whether their love flourishes or collapses. Best of all Goodbye Columbus is a surprising, quirky movie with a very different look at young love.

Greta Gerwig directing Little Women

Speaking of films, the Oscar nominations were announced a few days ago and as usual a lot of people are getting their panties in a bunch because one of their favorite films or performances failed to secure its much-deserved nomination. There are a few things to remember if you find yourself raging about an Oscar injustice. 1) It’s a goddamned awards show and therefore is a subjective process that in the general scheme of things is not important and shouldn’t effect your love for a film or your blood pressure. 2) In acting categories there are only five nominees and for best picture no more than ten, this inevitably means that some favored movies and performance are left out. It's math and again, it’s no big deal. 3) You’re going to take the Oscars seriously? For the loving of god do you know the academy’s track record? Here are some samples: They gave best picture awards to Crash, the King’s Speech and Slumdog Millionaire (and those are just injustices from the last 20 years). The gave the best picture award to How Green Was My Valley over Citizen Kane, Going My Way over Double Indemnity, An American in Paris over A Streetcar Named Desire etc. etc. etc. Consider too that the following directors and actors never won a competitive Oscar: Alfred Hitchcock, Stanley Kubrick, Charlie Chaplin, Howard Hawks, Federico Fellini, Ingmar Bergman, Sidney Lumet, Peter O’Toole, Cary Grant, Richard Burton, Robert Mitchum, Claude Rains, John Cazale, Max Von Sydow, Montgomery Clift and Orson Welles to name but a few.

In recent years people have — justifiably — complained about women and people of color not receiving Oscar nods. (When you consider that Spike Lee’s brilliant, Do The Right Thing (1989) was not even nominated in the year that Driving Miss Daisy was named best picture and that last year Green Book beat out Lee’s BlackkKlansman for the award you can see that this is neither a new nor a rectified problem). However the bigger issue — much, much bigger — is the lack of women directors and directors of color and the lack of good roles for women over 35 and for people of color. This year — like many others — there’s not a lot to choose from. Also people sometimes get it wrong when — very very justifiably — complaining about Greta Gerwig not getting nominated for best director for Little Women, they also add all the other good films directed by women. Yes they are right, several other good films were directed by women but only Gerwig was a realistic choice for a nomination (the failure to nominate her is yet another example of how little credence the Oscars should be given).

The gist of it is, screw the Oscars, they’re not worth the aggravation. 

Journal Entry for January 15, The Third in Maybe a Series Discusses -- Among Other Things -- Two Films From the Thirties

The terrible Barthelmess and the brilliant Bette in the Cabin in the Cotton

Okay don’t look at me like that, I told you from the beginning (Sunday) that this wasn’t going to be a daily thing. That should have been clear. Plus it’s not like I didn’t write at all yesterday. In fact I composed a poem and put in a solid hour on the latest never-to-be-published novel.

I had my annual physical yesterday as I do every year. I’m as fit as a fiddle — whatever the hell that means. I had my prostate thoroughly examined, I mean that finger was really doing some serious digging in there. Most of my prostate exams have been done by women as I have a female doctor (same one for over 30 years) and the nurse practitioners are almost exclusively female. Frankly I don’t care who sticks their fingers up there as long as they don’t find anything untoward. Some people get in and out pretty quick which suits me fine. After the prostate exam came the thrill of the testicular exam (mind you, I did not study for either of these exams). Some nurses actually pass on this particular exam, most do it and get it over with pretty quickly. But I was dealing with Nurse Thorough yesterday and she took her sweet time. I stood there and took it. It is a weird feeling to have someone fiddling about with your testes in a non sexual way and by the way the only ways to do in sexual way are very, very softly. At least she didn’t give the area a pinch.

I’ve been given to understand that some men don’t cotton to the idea of a woman giving them a physical. How 19th century of them. These women are professionals so what does it matter? A unenlightened man might find himself thinking that it'd be different if the woman is attractive. It’s not and shame on you for thinking that way. Standing there wearing nothing but one of those backless gowns and your socks being probed is not going to turn a man on — well, not a normal man, anyway. When I went to physical therapy a couple of years ago and had the area around my knee rubbed, well that could have been different if the therapist had looked like Samantha Robbie. She didn’t, it didn’t and if she did it would have been wrong to enjoy it too much, in other words in such a way as that enjoyment was obvious to others. Nuff said.

Last night I visited my good friend of nine months, the Criterion Channel (you should def check it out, great films galore — plus extras, so many extras!) where I watched The Cabin in the Cotton (1932) directed by Michael Curtiz. It was my second viewing and I enjoyed it as much as one could given that the film starred Richard Barthelmess one of the worst actors to ever trod the boards. (He likely stomped on 'em.) It’s amazing he had a film career at all, let alone that he starred in a few features. Dull as dishwater with a stilted voice and an awkward posture. Did he have a steel rod up his spine? Was his voice put through a machine that neutralized emotion? Did he know where the bodies were buried, hence is getting 80 film credits (to be fair the vast majority of his roles were during the silent era when his flavorless voice could not be heard, but how did he get roles once people could hear him?). The only way to offset having some stiff like Barthelmess as a leading man is to have a legend (in the case a legend-to-be) opposite him. Enter Bette Davis. The then rising star played a rich planter’s daughter who tried to use her feminine wiles to seduce Barthelmess’ Marvin Blake (she succeeded in the short run as one black out scene indicated in a classic pre code scene). It took all of Davis’ acting chops to pull of the role as — by her own admission — she was a virgin at the time. Davis delivered one line that I dearly loved: "I’d like to kiss you but I just washed my hair.” I loved the line so much that I paused the movie and posted it on Twitter -- to defeating silence. (My Twitter followers are too sophisticated to engage in such nonsense as re-tweeting, liking or reading my tweets.)  Come to find out that not only did I like the line but Ms. Davis herself cited it as the favorite of her long and illustrious film career. Great minds.

The Cabin in the Cotton is more that just about Bette Davis trying to bed someone who resembled a bed post, it was a then-timely story of the relationship between planters and sharecroppers in the South. Some relationship. Planters raked in all the dough while the workers did all the work. The film tries to present a balanced picture of the two sides but in its objectivity it makes clear that sharecroppers received the very shortest end of the stick and any chicanery and thieving on the part of said workers was understandable if not entirely justified. It’s a movie with a heart and a brain — all it lacked was a leading man with same.

Last week I watched another film on The Criterion Channel from the Thirties that had a social message. This was Black Legion (1937) starring Humphrey Bogart. Stop me if you’ve heard this one before: disgruntled workers blame immigrants for all their woes and shadowy organizers of the All American groups stir up hatred and make bank in the process. So yeah, this movie speaks to today maybe more than it does to 83 years ago.

I was surprised at how brutally honest the film was (especially as it was made after the production code was in full force) and how unflinchingly it exposed xenophobia and the “legitimate” forces that rile it up. For a modern version of Black Legion just turn on the news.

Okay so that’s it for me today. Now remember, don’t go expecting me to write everyday and especially don’t expect  to post something everyday. Hell, this whole thing could fizzle out anytime. But for the time being I’m enjoying sharing my thoughts, of which I have many. I think.

Journal Entry for January 12, The Second in a Possible Series and in it Poetry -- Among other Things -- is Discussed With a Mention of Frank O'Hara

Frank O'Hara

My New Year’s Resolution this year was to read and write more poetry. These are two related practices that I have fallen out of recently — much to my detriment. Reading poetry is for me similar to going to a museum. I don’t have to remember anything about the experience and I don’t have look for meaning or any of life’s answers yet I always feel intellectually sated. Wiser. Also like I’ve just gotten out of a warm bath.

Today is the 13th and I finally got around to reading some poetry, whether I later getting around to writing any today is a different matter. I read from Frank O’Hara’s Lunch Poems. (When we art the Museum of Modern Art in New York in October there was an exhibition of O'Hara who had been a curator at the museum -- swell guy.) They are some of my favorites. Favorite poems, I mean. I don’t recall any specific ones, in fact I rarely remember the names of particular poems. I have nothing against memorizing poems or reading them so much that one can recite them by heart, I just don’t feel compelled to. Remembering lines from a poem would for me be like enjoying a day at the beach and remembering specific waves. I’m sorry if that doesn’t make sense but it accurately describes how I feel.

Oh to be an angel (if there are any!) and go
straight up into the sky and look around and then
                                                     come down
not to be covered by steel and aluminum
glaringly ugly in the pure distances and clattering and
                                              buckling, wheezing
but to be part of the treetops and the blueness, invisible
the iridescent darkness beyond,
                      silent, listenting to
the air becoming no air becoming air again
- From the poem Three Airs by Frank O'Hara

I also like to quote poems as I’ve done on my blog frequently. I admit it, it makes me feel smart. Or maybe more accurately it makes me look smart (which takes some doing, believe me).

It’a all a process. Everything. Nothing concludes except life itself. Everything is like a river and trying to compartmentalize it or divide it into time periods is….gee, I don’t know what to call it. I was going to a  write fool’s errand but that somehow doesn’t seem right. Well the point is you can’t sectionalize a river. The shore yes, but not the water. It flows.

I spent a lot of my youth looking forward to the time when I would have it all figured out. Enlightenment. Everything’s done, it’s all settled, questions answered, time to sit back and relax. Well cuz, it just don’t work that way. I figured that out pretty quick. It’s kind of like the more you learn the less you know. I’ve learned so much over the years that today I’m truly ignorant. But I show up for more.

Well I seem to have run out of steam here. I’ve got several things to do so I’d better get on it. One thing I’m doing these days is reading a biography of Napoleon. The sucker is 810 pages long. I’m enjoying it and it's filling in some gaps in my historical knowledge but damned if it can’t be frustrating to read a long book as it occupies so much of your reading time. In the past I’ve read a non fiction book and a novel at the same time but I prefer focusing on one. What’s frustrating about reading a long book is that all the books I have that are waiting to be read keep calling out to me asking for their turn. I have a new biography of Frederick Douglass waiting to be read and it’s a weighty tome as well. But it’ll have to wait. No way am I diving headlong into another biography after I finish with this Bonaparte chap. I’ll read a novel or two or three before I get to Mr. Douglass.

Okay, so this is two days in a row I’ve written a journal entry and I reckon for the second straight day I’ll put it up on ye olde blog. This can’t last, but then it doesn’t need to. Nothing does.

Journal Entry for January 12, 2020, The First in a Possible Series and Hal Ashby's The Landlord is Discussed

So I’ve got this idea about keeping a daily journal and putting it up on my blog. Two things: I’ll never actually manage to do it everyday and I won’t end up posting every journal entry. I have managed to do today’s and by virtue of the fact that you’re reading it (I refer to my loyal reader Mrs. Stepoluckeenavitch of Poctatello, Idaho) I’ve obviously decided to post it. Who knows, maybe you’ll never see another one of these bastards and maybe I’ll churn them out at a rate of six times a week.

Somewhere around now — if not sooner, then again maybe a little later if I hand’t brought it up just now — you’re wondering what the purpose of these journal entries is, particularly the business about posting them. I’m wondering the same thing too. But I think it will serve a lot of purposes. One is to deal with my depression (if you’re unaware of my depression just leaf through the pages of this blog — metaphorically speaking, of course). I already write for an hour every morning but that’s always on one of my many unpublished novels (some day, some day). Writing is good for my soul and makes me happy so additional writing will help fight of the miseries and will also be a way of examining some of the issues that might contribute to my melancholia and more importantly highlighting some reasons why I should not be suffering from the blues. I could envision this as being a type of gratitude list that is commonly done by people in twelve step programs (raise you hands…). As to the purpose of posting them, well I always hope my writing will entertain and maybe enlighten but most importantly might help a fellow sufferer. (I know, you suffer just having to read this nonsense.)

What exactly will these journal entries be comprised of, you ask. (I know, nobody asked, but just stick with me here.) Surely I’m not just going to be whining about how miserable life my life is or desperately trying to cheer myself up. Of course not. There’ll doubtless be a pinch of that, but I’ll also be touching on affairs of the day, teaching, films I’ve just watched and whether I think the rain will hurt the rhubarb. I ‘ll probably include links to interesting things I’ve read or sites worth checking out or YouTube videos.

See? This could be a lot of fun!!! Yeah, maybe not, but it’s worth a shot.

The length of posts will vary although as I’ve got other things I’m doing during the course of the day, they’ll tend not to be very long and some may be quite short.

I’ve already written a fair amount for today but since I have your attention (hello? hello?) I wanted to talk about a movie I watched today. The Landlord (1970) directed by Hal Ashby (he cranked out some beauties during the seventies, starting with this one) was a big favorite of mine when it came out. I was in high school and I don’t believe that movies have effected as profoundly since then.

I didn’t see The Landlord again until a year or so ago when I discovered that it was available on YouTube. This Fall it appeared on the Turner Classics Movie channel (and I’ll save a rant about TCM for another time) and I DVR’d it and only got around to watching it today.

The Landlord is about the scion of an uber wealthy family who gets it into his mind to buy a brownstone in what was then a poor and predominantly African American section of Brooklyn. He subsequently meets, confronts, engages with, learns from, falls in love with and struggles with the tenants. Oh yes, he also learns a helluva lot from them too. It is a story about gentrification, white privilege, culture clashes, racism and love.

Beau Bridges stars as Elgar but he is truly just one of an excellent ensemble cast that features Louis Gossett Jr., Pearl Bailey, Lee Grant and the lesser known Diana Sands and Marki Bey who are both excellent (why neither became bigger stars is a mystery to me although one would imagine race had something to do with it).

The Landlord is the type of film that I’m sure would be watched very differently by a black person than how I watched it. I sympathized with Bridges’s character and rooted for him to win over his tenants and make a go of it. I think an African American viewer would be more cynical of his actions.  We meet a very naive Elger at the beginning of the movie and by the end see a young man transformed. Part of that transformation was developing a social consciousness.

In addition to tenants who range from wary to hostile, Elgar also has to deal with his eccentric and disapproving family which includes a reactionary father, three goofball siblings and their spouses and a conflicted mother.

The Landlord is very much of its time and watching it evokes the late Sixties and takes a bloke like me down memory lane. But it’s a good film on its own terms and its themes are still relevant today. If you’ve a mind to check it out it is linked here and I here also provide a link to the film's trailer if you’d prefer to see that before committing to it.

I hope that someday soon it get’s the DVD release it so richly deserves

Thus ends my first blogged journal entry. You’re welcome.

Strikes, Spares and Shmenges

My Top 25 Films of the Decade

1. Inside Llewyn Davis (2013) Coens
2. Midnight in Paris (2011) Allen
3. Birdman (2014) Iñárritu
4. A Separation (2011) Farhadi
5. Le Havre (2011) Kaurismäki
6. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (2019) Tarantino
7. First Reformed (2017) Schrader
8. Personal Shopper (2016) Assayas
9. Des Hommes et des Dieux (2010) Beauvois

Long Day's Journey Into Night

10. Moonrise Kingdom (2012) Anderson
11. Melancholia (2011) von Trier
12. Long Day’s Journey into Night (2018) Bi
13. Ida (2103) Pawlikowski

14. Call Me By Your Name (2017) Guadagnino
15. Carol (2015) Haynes
16. Roma (2018) Cuarón
17. Burning (2018) Lee
18. Manchester By the Sea (2016) Lonergan
19. Waves (2019) Shults
20. Blue Jasmine (2013) Allen
21. Once Upon a Time in Anatolia (2011) Ceylan
22. Patterson (2016) Jarmusch
23. We Need to talk About Kevin (2011) Ramsay
24. Parasite (2019) Ho
25. The Past (2013 Farhadi

My Top Ten Films of 2019

1. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (Tarantino)
2. Waves (Shults)
3. Parasite (Joon Ho)
4. Little Women (Gerwig)
5. The Irishman (Scorsese) 
6. Uncut Gems (Safdies)
7. Marriage Story (Baumbach)
8. Queen and Slim (Matsoukas)
9. Joker (Phillips)
10. Transit (Petzold)

Honorable Mention: Hustlers (Scarfaria), Diane (Jones), Last Black Man in San Francisco (Talbot), Ms. Purple (Chon), Jojo Rabbit (Waititi), The Lighthouse (Eggers), La Camarista (Aviles)

Best Actress: Mary Kay Place (Diane). Runners Up - Scarlett Johansson (Marriage Story) Saoirse  Ronan (Little Women) Taylor Russell (Waves)

Best Actor: Joaquin Phoenix (Joker). Runners Up - Adam Driver (Marriage Story) Willem Dafoe (The Lighthouse) Adam Sandler (Uncut Gems)

Best Supporting Actress: Annette Bening (The Report). Runners Up - Jennifer Lopez (Hustlers) Margaret Qualley (Once Upon a Time in Hollywood)

Best Supporting Actor: Al Pacino (The Irishman). Runners Up - Joe Pesci (The Irishman) Tom Burke (The Souvenir)

In My Take on Some Popular Christmas Carols I Take on Some Popular Christmas Carols

For as long as I can remember I've loved the Christmas season. One of my favorite aspects of it being the sounds. I am an unabashed fan of Christmas music. I was in elementary school so long ago that we sang carols in December during the music portion of our lessons and like many families I grew up with Christmas music in the house. Today I own a batch of Christmas CDs and once December rolls around I have Christmas music on constantly. However, I am not uncritical when it comes to Christmas songs, indeed I'm rather discerning and over the years have developed some serious issues with several yuletide classics. I think it's time I aired some of my objections.

Let’s get the big one out of the way first, the most iconic of Christmas carols, Jingle Bells. It wasn’t even written for Christmas, it was written for Thanksgiving. In fact it should be re-branded as such especially given the paucity of Thanksgiving songs. Indeed I believe the only recognized Turkey Day ditty is Over the River and Through the Woods and it’s not exactly a chart-topper. Needless to say, Jingle Bells doesn’t have a single word related to Christmas in it.

Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire (aka The Christmas Song) is one of our most beloved carols and has been a standard since the late 1940s. I love the song myself. But what I object to is this bit of business at the end:
And so, I'm offering this
Simple phrase to kids from
One to ninety-two
Altho' it's been said many times
Many ways
“Merry Christmas to you.”
It ends at 92? Come on. If I’m still around at age 93 I’m going to refuse to listen to this song and so too should anyone that age or older. Maybe we should all boycott it. Age discrimination, I hate it.

I have always had serious problems with The First Noel. Here’s what’s at issue:
The First Noel, the Angels did say
Was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay
Was what to “certain poor shepherds”? You can’t say it was something to somebody without specifying what it was to them. I call bullshit.

Baby it’s Cold Outside makes the list and not because it is supposedly about date rape (it isn’t as I established in a blog post last year). The song is trotted out every year at this time but it doesn’t make a single reference to Christmas or any other holiday. Get it out of here.

Another song that fits into this category is Frosty the Snowman. The story, the book, the televised cartoon are beloved holiday classics. But why? Again, not a single word in the song references the yuletide season. Dismissed. Maybe you can be a January thing when kids need a pick me up while suffering the post-holiday blues.

One very popular carol that sends the wrong message is Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Please note:
All of the other reindeer
Used to laugh and call him names
They never let poor Rudolph
Join in any reindeer games
Where the hell was Santa or at least some of the senior elves when this bullying was going on? Maybe they looked on and let it happen. That’s terrible. And those bigoted reindeer only accepted someone who was a little different after he performed some heroics? So kids if you’re a little different than your schoolmates you’re going to just have to take all the ribbing they dish out and forget about playing with them on the schoolyard — unless you can pull of some heroic deed. Good luck with that.

What a load of crap We Wish You a Merry Christmas is. I submit as evidence the following:
Oh, bring us some figgy pudding
And bring it right here
We won't go until we get some
What the hell kind of guests are these who make demands of their hosts and refuse to leave unless their demands are met? This is terrorism not Christmas.

Santa Baby is a lovely song, especially as preformed by Eartha Kitt. But enough with the greediness. She’s asking for a sable, a car, a yacht and that’s just for starters. She also wants a platinum mine! It’s the season of giving. Show a little class and ask for something for those less fortunate. I suppose in its way Santa Baby is really about capitalism run amok.

It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year is a jaunty little carol that truly expresses the joy many people feel during this festive season. But I take issues with certain lyrics. To wit,
There'll be scary ghost stories
And tales of the glories of
Christmases long, long ago
Scary ghost stories? At Christmas? I guess parts of Dicken’s A Christmas Carol — notably the visit by the ghost of Christmas future — are a little frightening, but I'd hardly classify the classic Christmas yarn as “scary.” And the song says “stories” what the hell other Christmas stories do you know that can put a fright in people? And why the hell are you focusing on them? I also wonder about the line regarding glories of Christmases long ago. My problem being I have no idea what you’re on about. What glories during what Christmases?

Then there’s the mystery of Here Comes Santa Claus. I make reference to the following:
Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus right down Santa Claus Lane
Where is this Santa Claus lane you speak of? I’ve not heard or read a word of reference to such a “lane” from any other source. Surely if there were really a “Santa Claus lane” it would much celebrated and not merely mentioned in one damn song.

Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town has been attacked for the whole business about Santa knowing when “you’re  sleeping” and “when you’re awake.” I got no problem with the big fella keeping an eyes on the kiddies to make sure everyone gets what they deserve. If you can't trust him then all is lost. But what does bother me is this:
You better watch out
You better not cry
You better not pout
You’re really going to tell small children not to cry? Why? If you take a nasty spill or someone socks you in the jaw you’re entitled to spill a few tears. Plus particularly bad news can move one to tears and so too, for that matter, can really good news. It’s a bad message to send to children that crying is a deal-breaker for getting presents, especially boys who get too much of that macho message. Lighten up.

I’m not even going to deal with Blue Christmas or any song like it that is someone’s sob story. Not what we want to hear at Christmas. Save the blues for March.

The 12 Days of Christmas is such a mess I don’t know where to begin. Whoever the shopper is has gone way overboard to the extent that I think there’s some mental issues they’re not dealing with. Perhaps obsessive compulsive disorder. The excess here staggers the imagine. Ya know what? Instead of five golden rings, how about just one, okay maybe two, having one as a spare is probably a good idea. But five? Get real. Then there are all those damn birds, French hens, calling birds, turtle doves….and not just one of each. I mean does the recipient even have an aviary? And what could a person possibly want with eight maids a-milking? You do realize that means eight cows. So this is farm? The lords a-leaping, the ladies dancing, the pipers piping, the drummer drumming I can see for a party, but is there a practical reason for keeping all these people in your house? Can the recipient afford to feed these people? Be real, buddy. Give her a ring, throw her a party and be done with it. Spend the rest of the dough on the needy.

Okay so I’ve ragged on a lot of beloved Christmas songs. Sue me. But I would like to give shout outs to some of my favorites that are not tainted by any unfortunate lyrics. They are: Deck the Halls, A White Christmas, Having a Wonderful Christmas Time, Jingle Bell Rock, Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree, So This is Christmas, I’ll Be Home for Christmas, Christmas Baby Please Come Home, It’s Beginning to Look a Lot like Christmas and Up on a Rooftop.

Please note I omitted virtually all of the holiday songs I think of as Christmas hymns such as Silent Night, Away in a Manger, Joy to the World, O Little Town of Bethlehem etc. You don’t wanna get me started on those which are strictly for your devout Christian types.

Anyway, Merry Christmas everybody! Or if you’d prefer Happy Holidays or even Season’s Greetings, whatever.