Thing is, The Cat in the Hat… comes in at only about an hour long, so I’m worried it doesn’t truly qualify as a feature film. To make up for it, I sneak in a beloved Christmas short, and for extra fun I watch it while pretending to take part in a mega-boring work meeting online. Take it from me – suffering a dull day at the virtual office? Stick on the 1982 animated telly adaptation of Raymond Briggs’ The Snowman. You won’t regret it.
This charming, old-fashioned animation about a young boy who builds a snowman that magically comes to life is something I’ve seen umpteen times, but each viewing brings the same familiar feeling of magic. Some Christmas films, viewed annually as children, have become so much a part of our culture and traditions that they are just instantly comforting. Watching this now, as a dad, feels extra special. It’s a beautifully crafted labour of love, with each hand painted frame done the old-fashioned way and looking like a work of art.
This really captures the child-like wonder of waking up to a world transformed by overnight snowfall. The little boy’s delight as he runs around his garden in his jammies, frolicking in the snow takes me right back to being a kid and I feel a little teary-eyed.
It's all the more wonderful when you consider that the film is entirely dialogue-free, save for David Bowies soulful voiceover intro and that soul-stirring song. Everyone always remembers the iconic flying bits, as boy and snowman join hands, soaring sublimely up to the North Pole. But this time I really enjoy the bits where the kid and his frosty friend muck around the house, trying on clothes, watching TV, playing with fruit and toys and getting a good old fright off the cat. Finding joy and awe in the everyday ordinary. It’s ace.
When the two of them do finally take flight it is still breathtaking. Maybe it’s just because I’ve had a hard day at work, or maybe because this meeting’s been so dull, but I cry some happy tears watching this.
Directors Dianne Jackson and Jimmy T. Murakami have really nailed something with this film, something primal that strikes a chord, meaning it will always be a firm family favourite, just as much a part of Christmas as turkey and stuffing. It builds from being a cheeky lark to become something more awesome and profound, culminating in the most tragic and devastating of endings, a brutal reminder that all things must pass. God, they don’t make them like that anymore.
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