Every year around this time we in America enter into a season called “the holidays,” which means that, on top of a fabulous break from studying and month-long chance to do nothing, we are now faced with extreme media restrictions, anything snow related and maybe a vague mention of Santa. By which I mean that all the channels and mostly ABC Family will be playing, until the 25th, nothing but Christmas movies, and Christmas episodes, and Christmas commercials. This year, as with most previous, will doubtless be playing the same classics on repeat with the introduction of maybe a few new vaguely snowy love stories. I, for one, will be hunkering down to catch the repeats of "The Grinch," the "Santa Claus" films, and every single marionette film, which brings me to the point.
Hopefully, for those of us privy to the 25 Days of Christmas countdown put on annually, we are all familiar with titles like "A Year Without a Santa Claus" and "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" and various and sundry other Rankin/Bass productions. We know about Heat Miser and his grudge with his brother Snow Miser, and their remarkably catchy tunes — and fun fact, you can tell a lot about a person from which brother they like better. I myself favor Snow Miser. We know about young Kris Kringle and his misadventures despite the crotchety Burgermeister Meisterburger. We might not know that a bunch of these featured Fred Astaire, or who Fred Astaire is, but it’s pretty cool and he’s pretty cool and maybe while there’s nothing going on at home someone can find a copy of the 1937 "Shall We Dance" and feel a little more cultured.
These movies are all well and good, and vastly superior in my own humble opinion to any other holiday films, but none of them is quite so profound as the tragic tale of one Jack Frost, perhaps now known for his villainous role in the third "Santa Claus" film and his troubled youthful appearance in "Rise of the Guardians," the animated movie that has Chris Pine and not Chris Pratt and came before "Guardians of the Galaxy." For those of us unacquainted with all of the above, Jack Frost is the mythological embodiment of the season of winter. He’s the spirit that puts snow on the ground and icicles on the eaves and, hence the name, frost on the windows.
In 1979, somewhere in the midst of all their other Christmas specials, Rankin Bass decided to fabricate a short forty eight minute production detailing the mildly calamitous escapades of the immortal Jack-Frost-turned-human Jack Snip as he tries to win over the heart of a winter loving local of a small fictional town that vaguely resembles Cold War depictions of primitive Soviet Russia. Accordingly, Jack must placate the whims of the unimpressed Father Winter whilst battling the tyranny of the Cossack king Kubla Kraus, who has an actual myriad of silly things that also begin with the sound of “k.”
From start to finish the short little film presents itself as a lighthearted family film about a flippant spirit, while throughout run deeper meanings of self sacrifice and the greater good. It's thoughtful without being cumbersome, and noninvasive. For those of us who don't celebrate Christmas, this is actually a winter movie, and has nothing to do with the holiday. It's heartfelt, it's succinct and it's memorable. This year, why not give it a shot?
