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Writer's pictureKimi Floyd Reisch

Christmas Unwrapped: Love and Acceptance in Movies

How many of us grew up in homes where Christmas didn’t feel like Christmas without cozy nights under blankets, watching holiday cartoons on their annual TV reruns? For many, these half-hour or hour-long specials were as much a tradition as trimming the tree or hanging stockings by the fire.


Back then, before streaming services made everything instantly available, watching your favorite holiday classic required planning. Families checked TV guides, coordinated schedules, and gathered on the appointed night to watch together. For those thirty or sixty minutes, time stood still. We laughed, sang along, and even teared up as Rudolph and Yukon Cornelius explored the Island of Misfit Toys (1964), the Grinch brought back the Christmas he had stolen (1966), or Charlie Brown searched for the true meaning of the holiday amidst commercial chaos (1965).


These cherished moments weren’t just cozy family rituals—they also reflected the world around us.


For many of us born to Boomer parents, these cartoons were more than entertainment; they were a window into a world we didn’t fully understand. The stories carried the fingerprints of the mid-20th century, a time of extraordinary upheaval and change.


Our parents and grandparents had lived through the Civil Rights Movement, the space race, Vietnam, and the rise of second-wave feminism. They witnessed the dawn of the birth control pill and nuclear proliferation, and endured the pain of assassinations that forever changed the nation’s trajectory. These massive cultural shifts shaped their worldview—and the media they consumed and shared with us.


By the time these cartoons became mainstays of December television programming in the 1980s and 1990s, the world had already shifted significantly. Our generation grew up in a different kind of transformation: 24-hour news cycles, the rise of MTV, the boom and then decline of shopping malls, and the advent of personal technology like home video players, gaming consoles, and eventually, the internet.


And yet, despite these generational divides, those simple animated specials had a remarkable way of bringing people together.


Rudolph’s shiny nose, once mocked, became his greatest strength. The misfit toys, rejected as “defective,” proved to be just as lovable and valuable as their more conventional counterparts. Even the Grinch, alienated and embittered, was transformed by the kindness of the Whos.


These cartoons gently taught us that being different isn’t just okay—it’s essential. They reminded us that love, acceptance, and community are the true gifts of the season, transcending materialism or perfection. Holidays are not about the gifts as much as they are about the moments we experience together.


These messages weren’t just relevant in the 1960s—they resonate today, perhaps more than ever. But the celebration of difference in holiday movies didn’t end with the classics of that decade.


As holiday storytelling evolved in the 1980s, new films began to delve even deeper into themes of community and belonging. One standout is Jim Henson’s Emmet Otter’s Jug-Band Christmas (1977), a quiet masterpiece that became a holiday staple by the early 1980s.

This heartwarming tale follows Emmet Otter and his mother, Ma, who scrape by in their small river town. Hoping to win a local talent contest, each sacrifices something precious to give the other a shot at a better life. Along the way, they encounter quirky characters like the Riverbottom Nightmare Band, whose intimidating presence conceals a surprising role in the story’s conclusion.


What makes Emmet Otter’s Jug-Band Christmas so memorable is its embrace of imperfection. The otters don’t have much—they live modestly and struggle—but their love, courage, and creativity shine through. Even the so-called “Nightmare Band” reminds us that rebellion and uniqueness are integral parts of any community.


Just as Rudolph taught us to embrace difference, Emmet Otter teaches us to find beauty in imperfection and to value dreams, even when they don’t turn out as planned.


The late 1980s and 1990s ushered in a new era of holiday classics, with live-action films capturing the same heartfelt themes of acceptance and connection.


Home Alone (1990), for instance, follows Kevin McCallister’s transformation from a mischievous, misunderstood kid to a resourceful, family-appreciating hero. Along the way, he befriends the lonely old man next door, teaching us to look beyond appearances and see others as people with their own stories.


Similarly, National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (1989) hilariously depicts Clark Griswold’s relentless pursuit of the “perfect” Christmas—and the chaos that ensues. But beneath the comedic disasters is a poignant reminder: the magic of the holidays isn’t found in perfect lights or extravagant gifts; it’s found in the messy, imperfect connections with the people we love.


Fast-forward to today, and holiday films continue to evolve to include even more stories of diverse people and their communities. Even Hallmark, once known for its formulaic, homogeneous narratives, now features LGBTQ+ characters, interracial couples, and diverse families. This shift signals progress and a broader recognition of the many ways people celebrate love, family, and belonging.


Movies like The Family Stone (2005) and Jingle Jangle: A Christmas Journey (2020) stand out as modern examples of inclusivity and heartfelt storytelling. The Family Stone explores the messiness of family dynamics, highlighting the strength found in love and forgiveness. Meanwhile, Jingle Jangle dazzles with its Afro-futuristic aesthetic, a diverse cast, and a celebration of resilience and belief in the face of adversity.


These stories show us that the holidays aren’t just for one kind of family or tradition—they’re for everyone.


As we revisit these classics and embrace new ones, their messages feel especially urgent in today’s world. Too often, difference is met with fear, and kindness feels radical. We live in a time when families seeking refuge—much like Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus—are criminalized, and leaders face discrimination for simply existing.


What might Rudolph or Charlie Brown say about that?


These characters remind us that love, acceptance, and community are not only timeless—they are vital. They teach us that the magic of the holidays isn’t in striving for perfection but in embracing difference, showing kindness, and creating space for everyone at the table.


This Christmas, whether you’re introducing these classics to a new generation or enjoying them yourself, let’s hold onto their lessons. Let’s commit to loving the misfits, welcoming the exiled, and celebrating the beautiful, messy tapestry of humanity that makes the season meaningful.


Because the true magic of Christmas and other holidays isn’t found in sameness—it’s found in the people who remind us that love, kindness, and belonging are the greatest gifts of all.

kfr, 24 November 2024.

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