A Muppet Family Christmas 1987

I am, for better or worse, a cynical guy. My idealistic streak is narrow at best; sap tends to make me roll my eyes, and as Mrs. Bloom points out from time to time, I have a low tolerance for cheese in my art. In sum, I don’t really work as the target audience for most Christmas specials and works that play in the same space.

What is it, then, about The Muppets that so thoroughly and so consistently cuts through the walls of irony and jaded detachment nothing else does? What is it about Jim Henson’s brainchildren, those floppy, ridiculous, exaggerated, occasionally bizarre puppets that are so uniquely calibrated to wring big laughs from hoary gags, to tug at the heartstrings with seemingly mawkish sentiments, and to represent such overwhelming joy?

Maybe it is, as Mrs. Bloom suggests, because they are just an undyingly earnest bunch. That’s not to say that Henson’s broods are entirely without irony or self-reference. (The funniest joke in A Muppet Family Christmas is Bert and Ernie chatting with Doc, a lodger suddenly inundated with Muppets, about what letters various words start with, before adding that where they come from, “this is small talk.”) But throughout all the Muppet adventures, be they on Sesame Street or at Fraggle Rock or in the wide world, there is a mirth, a sincerity, a truly and deeply felt heart behind everything they do that cannot help but reach even lost souls like yours truly.

And yet I don’t really know how they do it. If I’m being honest, A Muppet Family Christmas fails a lot of my usual tests for how something like this. The special is, if not plotless, then at least light on plot beyond what’s absolutely necessary. The gist of the story is that Fozzy Bear’s mother is about to be off to a tropical island for Christmas, but Fozzy surprises her by showing up with all of his friends. As more and more Muppet-y pals show up, Mrs. Bear’s rustic cabin becomes filled to the brim with hustle and bustle and felt as the gang arrives.

But really, the whole thing is mostly an excuse for some Muppet crossover chaos. It’s hard to explain why it’s so exciting to see the denizens of Sesame Street interacting with the Muppet Show Muppets, or Kermit and Robin descending down into a Fraggle Hole to sign a song with the Fraggles, but something about these typically disparate Muppet worlds colliding is an absolute thrill. I didn’t know that I wanted a quick interaction between Oscar the Grouch and Rizzo the Rat, or the Movie Muppets witnessing Cookie Monster’s voraciousness, but seeing it was an utter delight anyway.

It’s that type of interaction that leads to one of the special’s most heartwarming moment. One of the few bits in A Muppet Family Christmas that amounts to a real subplot is the Swedish Chef having invited a turkey to the shindig for the express purpose of turning him into Christmas dinner, until the chef abruptly changes his plans after laying eyes on Big Bird. When the two finally cross paths, it’s mostly the sort of gentle but amusing humor of Swedish Chef checking out Big Bird and trying to get him ready to cook while the childlike and oblivious Big Bird unwittingly evades capture by wandering around the kitchen.

But after the minor bit of slapstick, the special offers a little bit of sweetness. Big Bird reveals to Swedish Chef that he came into the kitchen to give the Chef a bag of chocolate covered birdseed. He explains that he knows the Chef is from Sweden and that it must be hard to be away from home and the people he cares about during the holidays, noting that the birdseed is a simple gesture of empathy and friendship. It’s cheesy as all hell, but again, something about the firm but warm conviction in Carol Spinney’s voice when he delivers those lines makes it resonate, and Swedish Chef’s secret reprieve for Big Bird works to perfection.

By the same token, the other major subplot in the episode is Miss Piggy doing some last minute shopping and photoshoots, which threaten to make her late for the gathering. When an unexpected blizzard hits, it seems like she might not make it all, and Kermit is steady but clearly a bit despondent.

Of course, this being The Muppets, we know that some way, somehow, Miss Piggy is going to make it to the cabin and all will be well. It’s predictable and as cornball as anything. And yet it absolutely lands when Piggy fights the blizzard and then, against all odds, shows up with Doc (who, despite his initially irritation at the Muppets, volunteered to go out and look for her), dressed to the nines with quips about her knowing how to make an entrance. The glimpses we get of Piggy’s dilly-dallying are as amusing as the diva parody always is, but there’s yet more sweetness to the reunion between her and Kermit that, however easy, is impossible to resist.

Eventually, all is well. Everyone is gathered in the den of Fozzy’s mother’s house and joins together to sing The Muppets’ traditional Christmas Carols. Some of the choices are absolutely perfect – like The Count leading a round of “I Saw Three Ships” – and some of the time it’s just fun to see the Muppets dig in to old standards. But something about seeing Muppets of all stripes (some of whom have actual stripes) joined together in a big furry morass of joy and friendship and love that represent the spirit of the season, makes it something more than a collection of songs sung by molded felt.

For many folks like me, The Muppets represent a connection to childhood, of a more innocent time before that naiveté slowly but surely gave way to the critical faculties that serve one well in the real world, but dampen some of the magic that once seemed to be in it. When, at the end of A Muppet Family Christmas, Jim Henson himself smiles and says a few words about his creations, it brings us back to that time, to the silliness and fun and earnestness that his cast of characters bring. There’s nothing so novel about the special, despite its character mix-up M.O., but the way it embraces that side of The Muppets, the part of them that capture that pure childlike sincerity, makes it a winning outing for these dear, venerable friends on the other side of the screen.