Stop Motion 12.15.2022

    Whew! Rudolph was on Saturday night. I was afraid I would miss it. This is, of course, an odd proposition for two reasons.

1. I’m 60 years old. I’ve obviously seen it before and missing it one year shouldn’t be that big a deal. 

2. It’s 2022. There are literally a million other ways to catch Rudolph’s red nose other than the traditional CBS broadcast.

    One also must mention that in this age of green-screen digitally remastered, computer-generated special effects watching Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer is a bit of an antiquarian exercise. The technical term for the kind of animation seen in Rudolph, Santa Clause is Coming to Town, and The Little Drummer Boy is Stop-action animation. Rather than analog or digital pictures, this technique uses real models of clay or some other material as moveable, malleable characters which (who?) are physically manipulated and filmed as if they were real people. 

    No one Is really fooled into thinking that these talking reindeer and anthropomorphic snowmen are real. They do, however, seem to provide a three-dimensional almost corporeal presence not experienced through either computer or traditional animation. This was leveraged in the more recent Christmas movie Elf, when during some of the opening North pole scenes, Buddy interacts with Sam the snowman, an arctic puffin, a walrus, a polar bear cub, and of course, Mr. Narwal. These images may actually have been digitally created but they were conceived as a shout-out to classical stop-motion animation. 

    Why do I find this approach to storytelling still compelling after more than 50 years? The story itself is a little stilted and old-fashioned and the animation itself is not really all that good. I have already included a section in this month’s preaching regarding the danger of nostalgia during the holidays. And here I am singing the praises of a “cartoon” that exemplifies a form of animation which seems destined for the ash heap of history. 

    It is Personal. It is a matter of personal connection. Rudolph is the Grinch is Charlie Brown is the Little Drummer Boy. Regardless of all the shiny new specials and fresh, cutting-edge Christmas animation that is produced, the old characters still resonate. To be blunt, these stop-action figures seem more real and more friendly than the purportedly “life-like” characters produced by digital wizardry. Part of it may be that we have invited these old friends into our homes for more than fifty Christmases. Part of it may be resistance to novelty for the sake of novelty. Some of it is just a need to restrict the number of characters that help us define the less spiritually driven aspects of Christmas. Maybe we just like to feel a momentary rush of child-like innocence. 

    Rudolph reminds us that not all misfits are misanthropes and that the monsters which pursue us can be tamed. Once we begin to peel back the drama, the tropes, the jokes, the innuendo, and the cute, maybe then we are ready to remember that the comfort of the cradle paled in comparison to the grandeur of heaven and that at the shadow of the cross lingers over the entire season. The birth of Jesus is an act of supreme humility and selfless giving. In a moment, history captured the presence of its originator and turned the tide of our mutual destiny. Paul wrote about this to his friends in Philippi:

“Who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” (Philippians 2:6–8 ESV)

That juxtaposition of service and sacrifice is at the heart of Christmas. Another year is passing. The good the bad and the ugly have occurred. Evil has spoken, as have greed and lust. Now, as the year passes by, we pause to be reminded of the universal consequences of that remarkable birth. 

    Rudolph’s story is not the Christmas story. It does help us, however, to come to a full stop. It is time to slow down. It is time to reflect. It is time to put the frozen moments of this year into an eternal perspective. When the air is chilled, and our antlered hero rolls across the screen we know that the time is coming to put this year to bed. But before we do that, we will come round the manger sing of a silent night, and hold the Christ child dear to our hearts, knowing that in a few weeks we will consider His cross, His empty tomb, and victory over death.