There are moments, usually somewhere between the fourth and fifth glass of eggnog, when I rank the first few scenes of A Charlie Brown Christmas among the finer artistic accomplishments of our age. The animation is rough-hewn, the voice acting hesitant, the writing somewhere between banality and camp. As art, it is the Gothic rejection of the perfect in favor of the sincere: a lesser stonemason may be allowed his gargoyle, and the cathedral is undiminished when the temple of Apollo would be utterly destroyed.
So if anything saves A Charlie Brown Christmas from itself, it is the sincerity of Charlie Brown, whose soft-spoken anxiety matures into desperation to know what, in a world of pink aluminum trees and impromptu freestyle dance, Christmas is all about.
And Linus’ sincere answer, a simple reading from the Gospel of Luke, is deeply troubling. Continue reading