[9.0/10] “A menorah is like the nightlight of our people. In times of darkness it shines on the whole world reminding us not to be afraid to be different.” There is an entire industry built around Christmas. You can barely slip the surly bonds of October 31st before being assaulted with a blizzard of tinsel-tinged decor, music, and of course, T.V. specials.
There’s nothing wrong with that. While the totality of it can be overwhelming at times, even for enthusiasts, there’s something nice about a big communal celebration that touches the whole of society in some way, including our favorite characters on television. But there are vanishingly few Chanukah specials out there. So if, like me, you were a young Jewish boy growing up in the bible belt, it’s easy to feel left out when the calendar turns to December, and the whole world, even your favorite cartoon characters, seems to shift toward something you’re not a part of.
Enter the Rugrats, one of the few mainstream shows this side of Lamp Chop to offer a little Jewish representation to the younger set. “A Rugrats Chanukah” is a fairly standard episode for the series. The babies characteristically mix-up the fact that Tommy’s grandfather, Boris, is starring in a play called “The Meaning of Chanukah”, with Boris griping about his spotlight-stealing co-star and rival, Schlomo, who the babies misinterpret as “The Meanie of Chanukah”. From there, the little moppets are on a mission to do what their daycare teacher does when there’s a meanie about -- force Shlomo to take a nap.
The setup of the Chaunkah pageant at the local synagogue and the babies’ efforts to save Tommy’s grandpa from the vile meanie paves the way for plenty of fun holiday hijinks. The absurdity of Tommy’s dad, Stu, turning the play’s giant menorah into an overdone, steam-punk monstrosity/delight is a blast (literally). A parishioner in a giant dreidel costume tripping over Angelica -- prompting Boris to declare “I win” and take his box of donuts when the schlimazel lands on gimel -- not to mention the same unlucky sod complaining that Angelica “broke [his] shin” make for great Chanukah gags.
And there’s something well-observed about the chaos of the pre-pageant fair, the small-time community play retelling the story of the Maccabees, and not for nothing, little kids sneaking out of daycare and causing a ruckus during the production. (Angelica striving to watch the Xmas special for her doll makes for a nicely chaotic subplot.) The choice is a small one in the grand scheme of things, but the simple fact of seeing your holiday experiences represented on the small screen, a signifier that other people in the mainstream culture see and experience the same, is revelatory for a young viewer.
So is the chance to apply the babies’ usual roleplaying and misunderstandings to your winter celebration. “A Rugrats Chanukah” explains the story in an age appropriate way. Transposing the babies as Jews in the days of King Antiochus is a ton of fun. Tommy steps into the role of Judah Macabee, hero of the Chaunkah story, with trademark gusto. (How has “A Macca-baby’s gotta do what a Macca-baby’s gotta do?” not become a fixture of the popular lexicon?) And the simplification of the story, into a tale about how the Jews and the Greek neighbors lived in peace, until a new king insisted everyone do and look and worship like him while the Jews simply wanted to stay who they are, makes the tale comprehensible and accessible to a younger audience.
Well, more or less. Part of the fun of the Rugrats is how the titular carpet-crawlers get the gist of something, but bend and twist in it in age-appropriate ways. The quartet of kids wondering if the candles mean it’s Tommy’s birthday every day, and they’re just stacking up his aging all in a row is adorable. The crew, including Angelica, being thrown for a loop that the family is making pancakes at night, not the morning, and they’re made with potatoes, rather than flour, is cute and innocent. Even the proper pronunciation of the holiday is a source of fun; Angelica’s “You gotta ch- when you say it” is the delivery of the episode.
There’s a certain sense of normalcy to A Rugrats Chanukah, a sense that this is just what the babies, and by extension the show, does for everything. The fact that a hebrew holiday just happens to be the subject of fun this week is both glorious in how unique that is, and heartening in how typically it’s treated by the series and those within it. For Rugrats, Chanukah isn’t some unusual aberration; it’s just what you do, and that's quietly groundbreaking.
A Rugrats Chanukah has some emotional heft, as befits a holiday special. Grandpa Boris’ rivalry with mean ol’ Schlomo centers on an aggrieved sense of constantly being one-upped. The two of them playing King Antiocus and Judah Maccabee in the local play doesn’t help settle down their longstanding enmity. The peak of the insult for Boris is the fact that, while Boris can only boast his sweet but modest family, Schlomo apparently goes on and on about his great business, something which sticks in the craw of Boris as pointed grandstanding.
He comes to find out (after an on-stage scuffle carefully covered by the synagogue singers, naturally) that Schlomo’s crowing about his business was a form of overcompensating. In his eyes, Boris was always going on about his beautiful family. Those comments hurt Schlomo, because he and his wife were never able to have kids, and he felt stung by the fact that he has no one to pass on their people’s traditions to.
I love the insight and narrative flip of that revelation. The “Grass is always greener” mutual envy between the two alte kakers helps Boris see that they both had this rivalry all wrong, and realize how much he has. It speaks to the importance of carrying on that light to the Jewish people, the joys of sharing it with the next generation. And most of all, the story gives Schlomo his greatest wish, as Boris encourages him to finish the Chanukah story for the otherwise distraught babies to soothe them, and explain to them why this celebration means so much to their community, and to him.
So he does. On a day of miracles, Schlomo gets his -- the chance to share those rituals and their meaning with those just beginning to understand them. And the kiddos succeed in their mission too, as between stories and cuddles with pint-sized Macca-babies and a lot of exertion for an older gent, the whole crew, grandfathers included, falls into the nap that Tommy and company strove to achieve, to the oos and aws of an adoring crowd.
Before he falls asleep though, Schlomo (and by extension writers J. David Stem and David N. Weiss) offers that timeless, enervating distillation of the Chanukah message: “A menorah is like the nightlight of our people. In times of darkness it shines on the whole world reminding us not to be afraid to be different.” It is, in keeping with the spirit of the show, and its sharp ability to break down big concepts in ways a young audience can understand, a comparison to something kids already know, and a lesson that addresses a feeling they probably (and for young Jewish children, certainly) already know.
It’s hard to be different, for any reason, especially in childhood. It’s easy to want to hide your differences from the world to reduce the friction of moving around within it. Telling kids that they don’t have to, that there’s courage in choosing to be who and what you are, that there’s a proud tradition supporting them for it, is a wonderful, much-needed message for everyone. And after a year in which there’s been loud bursts of antisemitism from entertainers, athletes, and politicians, the message resonates now more than ever.
The special received some criticism from Jewish corners when it aired. The Anti-Defamation League took the show’s usual scraggly art style to reflect pernicious caricatures of Jews that date back centuries. But for me, a scores of other Jewish kids growing up in a torrent of candy-canes and mistletoe, A Rugrats Chanukahwas that nightlight in the darkness, a beacon of Jewish recognition and joy amid a wash of yuletide programming that all has its merits, but inevitably left us out.
And in the throws of the holiday season it gave those kids something vital to hold onto and told them something important: You are seen. Who and what you are is normal and valid. You too deserve to step into the light.
Review by Andrew BloomVIP 9BlockedParentSpoilers2022-12-24T17:07:46Z
[9.0/10] “A menorah is like the nightlight of our people. In times of darkness it shines on the whole world reminding us not to be afraid to be different.” There is an entire industry built around Christmas. You can barely slip the surly bonds of October 31st before being assaulted with a blizzard of tinsel-tinged decor, music, and of course, T.V. specials.
There’s nothing wrong with that. While the totality of it can be overwhelming at times, even for enthusiasts, there’s something nice about a big communal celebration that touches the whole of society in some way, including our favorite characters on television. But there are vanishingly few Chanukah specials out there. So if, like me, you were a young Jewish boy growing up in the bible belt, it’s easy to feel left out when the calendar turns to December, and the whole world, even your favorite cartoon characters, seems to shift toward something you’re not a part of.
Enter the Rugrats, one of the few mainstream shows this side of Lamp Chop to offer a little Jewish representation to the younger set. “A Rugrats Chanukah” is a fairly standard episode for the series. The babies characteristically mix-up the fact that Tommy’s grandfather, Boris, is starring in a play called “The Meaning of Chanukah”, with Boris griping about his spotlight-stealing co-star and rival, Schlomo, who the babies misinterpret as “The Meanie of Chanukah”. From there, the little moppets are on a mission to do what their daycare teacher does when there’s a meanie about -- force Shlomo to take a nap.
The setup of the Chaunkah pageant at the local synagogue and the babies’ efforts to save Tommy’s grandpa from the vile meanie paves the way for plenty of fun holiday hijinks. The absurdity of Tommy’s dad, Stu, turning the play’s giant menorah into an overdone, steam-punk monstrosity/delight is a blast (literally). A parishioner in a giant dreidel costume tripping over Angelica -- prompting Boris to declare “I win” and take his box of donuts when the schlimazel lands on gimel -- not to mention the same unlucky sod complaining that Angelica “broke [his] shin” make for great Chanukah gags.
And there’s something well-observed about the chaos of the pre-pageant fair, the small-time community play retelling the story of the Maccabees, and not for nothing, little kids sneaking out of daycare and causing a ruckus during the production. (Angelica striving to watch the Xmas special for her doll makes for a nicely chaotic subplot.) The choice is a small one in the grand scheme of things, but the simple fact of seeing your holiday experiences represented on the small screen, a signifier that other people in the mainstream culture see and experience the same, is revelatory for a young viewer.
So is the chance to apply the babies’ usual roleplaying and misunderstandings to your winter celebration. “A Rugrats Chanukah” explains the story in an age appropriate way. Transposing the babies as Jews in the days of King Antiochus is a ton of fun. Tommy steps into the role of Judah Macabee, hero of the Chaunkah story, with trademark gusto. (How has “A Macca-baby’s gotta do what a Macca-baby’s gotta do?” not become a fixture of the popular lexicon?) And the simplification of the story, into a tale about how the Jews and the Greek neighbors lived in peace, until a new king insisted everyone do and look and worship like him while the Jews simply wanted to stay who they are, makes the tale comprehensible and accessible to a younger audience.
Well, more or less. Part of the fun of the Rugrats is how the titular carpet-crawlers get the gist of something, but bend and twist in it in age-appropriate ways. The quartet of kids wondering if the candles mean it’s Tommy’s birthday every day, and they’re just stacking up his aging all in a row is adorable. The crew, including Angelica, being thrown for a loop that the family is making pancakes at night, not the morning, and they’re made with potatoes, rather than flour, is cute and innocent. Even the proper pronunciation of the holiday is a source of fun; Angelica’s “You gotta ch- when you say it” is the delivery of the episode.
There’s a certain sense of normalcy to A Rugrats Chanukah, a sense that this is just what the babies, and by extension the show, does for everything. The fact that a hebrew holiday just happens to be the subject of fun this week is both glorious in how unique that is, and heartening in how typically it’s treated by the series and those within it. For Rugrats, Chanukah isn’t some unusual aberration; it’s just what you do, and that's quietly groundbreaking.
A Rugrats Chanukah has some emotional heft, as befits a holiday special. Grandpa Boris’ rivalry with mean ol’ Schlomo centers on an aggrieved sense of constantly being one-upped. The two of them playing King Antiocus and Judah Maccabee in the local play doesn’t help settle down their longstanding enmity. The peak of the insult for Boris is the fact that, while Boris can only boast his sweet but modest family, Schlomo apparently goes on and on about his great business, something which sticks in the craw of Boris as pointed grandstanding.
He comes to find out (after an on-stage scuffle carefully covered by the synagogue singers, naturally) that Schlomo’s crowing about his business was a form of overcompensating. In his eyes, Boris was always going on about his beautiful family. Those comments hurt Schlomo, because he and his wife were never able to have kids, and he felt stung by the fact that he has no one to pass on their people’s traditions to.
I love the insight and narrative flip of that revelation. The “Grass is always greener” mutual envy between the two alte kakers helps Boris see that they both had this rivalry all wrong, and realize how much he has. It speaks to the importance of carrying on that light to the Jewish people, the joys of sharing it with the next generation. And most of all, the story gives Schlomo his greatest wish, as Boris encourages him to finish the Chanukah story for the otherwise distraught babies to soothe them, and explain to them why this celebration means so much to their community, and to him.
So he does. On a day of miracles, Schlomo gets his -- the chance to share those rituals and their meaning with those just beginning to understand them. And the kiddos succeed in their mission too, as between stories and cuddles with pint-sized Macca-babies and a lot of exertion for an older gent, the whole crew, grandfathers included, falls into the nap that Tommy and company strove to achieve, to the oos and aws of an adoring crowd.
Before he falls asleep though, Schlomo (and by extension writers J. David Stem and David N. Weiss) offers that timeless, enervating distillation of the Chanukah message: “A menorah is like the nightlight of our people. In times of darkness it shines on the whole world reminding us not to be afraid to be different.” It is, in keeping with the spirit of the show, and its sharp ability to break down big concepts in ways a young audience can understand, a comparison to something kids already know, and a lesson that addresses a feeling they probably (and for young Jewish children, certainly) already know.
It’s hard to be different, for any reason, especially in childhood. It’s easy to want to hide your differences from the world to reduce the friction of moving around within it. Telling kids that they don’t have to, that there’s courage in choosing to be who and what you are, that there’s a proud tradition supporting them for it, is a wonderful, much-needed message for everyone. And after a year in which there’s been loud bursts of antisemitism from entertainers, athletes, and politicians, the message resonates now more than ever.
The special received some criticism from Jewish corners when it aired. The Anti-Defamation League took the show’s usual scraggly art style to reflect pernicious caricatures of Jews that date back centuries. But for me, a scores of other Jewish kids growing up in a torrent of candy-canes and mistletoe, A Rugrats Chanukah was that nightlight in the darkness, a beacon of Jewish recognition and joy amid a wash of yuletide programming that all has its merits, but inevitably left us out.
And in the throws of the holiday season it gave those kids something vital to hold onto and told them something important: You are seen. Who and what you are is normal and valid. You too deserve to step into the light.