This is a fast post, as I’m getting everything ready for the Holiday Comic Con this Saturday.
I’m drinking a cup of Library Blend tea, and reflecting on how there always has to be at least one grinch in a crowd.
From the first time I ever watched The Polar Express movie, I was smitten. It’s adapted from a delightful children’s picture book written and illustrated by American author Chris Van Allsburg. Several of his books have been turned into movies – Jumanji, Zathura and this wonderful Christmas story.
The tale begins in Van Allsburg’s home town, Grand Rapids, Michigan. It was inspired by his memories of a far simpler time, when the main holiday attraction was the Christmas window at the largest department store in town. Since the author was born in 1949, the book’s adventure certainly takes place before my time, but I think we can all relate to a young child’s almost unbearable anticipation of Santa’s visit, and then perhaps some doubt as we got a bit older.
Here I’m going to talk specifically about the movie that I love to watch every year. The hero of the story, a boy of perhaps eight or nine has lost the enchantment, alternately suspecting that Santa is just a story for kids and hoping that maybe he does really exist. On Christmas Eve, he goes to bed reluctantly, and is awakened by the sound of a train outside. Somehow it’s arrived down the middle of the street he lives on, aglow with light, and when he goes outside to marvel at it, the conductor invites him aboard a journey to the North Pole.
After some debate the boy decides to hop on, and joins a group of other children, also in pajamas. As they chug along, they pass the department store Herpolsheimer’s (the digital incarnation of the real thing in Van Allsburg’s childhood), where there’s a mechanical Santa in the big window, its gears clearly visible – seemingly confirming the boy’s suspicions. Then they pick up a boy ‘from the wrong side of the tracks’. This was a class distinction we no longer see, when towns were often divided by train tracks, with the wealthier citizens on one side, the poorer on the other. It still existed when I was a kid.
The train is bright, warm and cozy inside, and the journey is made even better as a crew of waiters magically produce a serving cart with steaming cups of hot chocolate, which frankly look really delicious. The animation in this movie is as enchanting as the story itself.
If you haven’t seen the movie, I won’t include any spoilers, but many, many people have embraced the movie so much that there are recipes online for Polar Express Hot Chocolate (I haven’t tried this one, but it gets good reviews), Polar Express train sets, and Polar Express-themed train rides. There are homages to the story in many holiday exhibits.
So I was startled to come across an article from 2015 that panned The Polar Express as nothing more than a money-making vehicle:
“It makes me wonder whether its most natural audience isn’t really nostalgic adults rather than children themselves. And of course, they are the ones buying it.
Ka-ching—er, ring, ring.”
Agree to disagree. Of course the publishers want to sell various editions of the book, and Hollywood wants to make money with their movies. Commerce at work. I don’t have children to be able to comment on how much they like the story, but I don’t know why they wouldn’t, and I’m quite happy being one of those nostalgic adults who bought the DVD. What’s the matter with allowing us adults to dive back into being a child again, even if it’s just for a couple of hours. I also don’t understand why some people think it’s weird that Tom Hanks plays all the adult roles in the movie – I think he does it brilliantly – or why some people think the animation is off-putting.
Bah humbug, I say. Everyone’s entitled to their opinion, but personally I think this is a jewel of a gently adventurous – and yes, nostalgic – holiday tale. Can’t we just enjoy it for that?