Over the next few days, you’re going to be bombarded by every Tom, Dick and Santa residing within three counties explaining why a certain movie is the cinematic angel atop the Christmas tree. With all due respect to George Bailey’s aggressive niceness, Scrooge’s curmudgeonly selfishness and Ralphie’s broken eyeglasses, at no point during their inferior tributes to the holiday season do they break into houses to literally steal said Christmas tree, cinematic angel and all. The Grinch does. With a custom made Santa suit, a makeshift reindeer and a heart two sizes too small, our anti-hero plunges down Who chimneys, pulling fast ones over little feminine heads and generally running amuck, all in the name of foul thievery. The beastly green bastard is like the Joker, only instead of Gotham City, his unquenchable rage is directed toward a municipality that doesn’t even bother employing a police force.
The whole thing may seem a bit far-fetched for narrower minds, but with Boris Karloff’s menacing boom voicing the Grinch’s putrescent inner monologue, you know this is exactly how it would have gone down. Christmas movies are about finding redemption, about tracking down the most cynical miscreant on the block and watching his repugnance enchant into tenderness. How The Grinch Stole Christmas is that polarized and epic transformation, melding good vs bad, love vs hate and green vs Who. There’s no villain more villainous, no devil more devilish, no creature more odious than this ghastly evildoer with a garlic-encrusted soul, at least until he discovers Christmas isn’t purchased from the store. Then it’s all singing, hugging and tenderness-extolling from the world’s biggest bully mashed down and mowed over by the Who’s unstoppable team spirit.
The whole thing takes twenty-six minutes. Like one of Barney Stinson’s "Get Psyched" mixes, it’s all rise, all the time, a vicious juggernaut of seedy intentions and abhorrent fantasies that grinches and grinches and grinches until further grinching becomes impossible. For one single, solitary Who second, it idles, before rapidly shifting gears and unleashing a prodigious lesson in morality only possible through the eyes of Cindy Lou Who. She may not party naked, but there’s really no need for such tomfoolery when a living, breathing, green Christmas miracle is your new best friend.
While grandma’s fussing over roast beast in the hall
and your little cousins are getting set for a brawl,
pop on How The Grinch Stole Christmas to drown out the shout
and let Dr. Seuss teach you what Christmas is all about!
Whatever you might learn from Scattergories or catch
Is better taught to you by a certain Christmasy green wretch.
So, crank up the volume and pass your uncle a full-flavored brew
It’s time for Boris Karloff to drown out the boo-who-who.
It may not have, gold, frankincense or myrhh
But it is the most refreshing holiday cure.
Happy Holidays, Cinema Blend readers.
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