Christmas
“Elf”
In Jon Favreau's irresistibly goofy Christmas comedy, Will Ferrell is raised by Santa's elves but must find his real family in Manhattan.
Few contemporary comedies have the courage of conviction that Jon Favreau’s “Elf” does. In “Elf,” Will Ferrell plays Buddy, a rather tall human orphan who has been raised at Santa’s workshop, in the North Pole, to believe he’s an elf — forget that he has to fold himself in half to sit on an elf toilet seat and can’t get through a doorway without bumping his head on an elf lintel.
It begins to dawn on Buddy that something’s amiss when, at work on the Etch A Sketch assembly line with the other elves, he realizes that he’s just no good at making toys. His adoptive father, Papa Elf (played by Bob Newhart), breaks the bad news: Buddy’s real mom was very young when he was born (a fact that’s telegraphed to us by the black-and-white photo Papa Elf holds up, of a pair of ’60s folkie-student types with long hair and glowing, guileless expressions). She put him up for adoption and later died. Buddy’s father is still alive — he lives in New York and works, as all human beings in New York ought to work, in the Empire State Building — although, as Ed Asner’s Santa Claus warns Buddy, “He’s on the naughty list.” (He also happens to be played, with a very naughty degree of faux crabbiness, by James Caan.)
Still, an elf’s gotta do what an elf’s gotta do, and so Buddy steps, Rudolph-style, onto an ice floe and heads toward an uncertain future in which he’ll unravel his past. Provided he doesn’t get bumped off by a taxicab first.
“Elf” may sound like a comedy for children that grown-ups can enjoy too. But I think it’s the other way around: Favreau doesn’t work overtime to insert winking, nudging gags that will make the grown-ups laugh, the sort of thing that the highly overpraised “Shrek” was loaded with. Instead, Favreau ignores the fact that the premise of “Elf” is ridiculous, and the movie automatically slips into its own elegant, natural logic. “Elf” works because it’s completely, refreshingly free of ironic detachment: When Favreau shows us those rosy-cheeked elves, tinkering away happily in their workshop, he gives it to us straight. Yes, they really are that happy. (A lesser director would show us a hidden bottle of hooch in an elf filing cabinet, the suggestion being that allegedly childish things have to be jazzed up for adult consumption.)
What’s more, when you’ve got Newhart playing an elf dad with perfect seriousness, and Asner as a vaguely annoyed Santa (and the two of them are wonderful), there’s no need for disingenuous in-jokes. Asner and Newhart are actors whose style and demeanor give them a certain recognizability. But whether you’re hip to the history of their TV work or not, their personalities serve both the characters they play and the larger purpose of the movie. This is acting, not gimmickry.
Favreau gets the mood and tone and look of “Elf” just right. (It was shot by Greg Gardiner, and the production designer is Rusty Smith. The two of them know how to draw maximum energy from bright colors without allowing them to look garish — visually as well as spiritually, “Elf” is the opposite of the 2000 “How the Grinch Stole Christmas.”) The script, by David Berenbaum, is tight and lively and gives the actors plenty to work with.
Ferrell looks so right in his tights and silly embroidered cutaway coat that, when he shows up in a suit and tie and overcoat two-thirds of the way through the picture, the effect is jarring and wrong — that’s how much “Elf” acclimatizes us to its own willfully ridiculous universe. You don’t usually think of Ferrell as having the face of an alien naif, but his demeanor in “Elf” is pleasantly gullible — he somehow looks as if he’s been smacked silly with a giant fish. When he discovers that a department-store Santa — the store is recognizable as Macy’s but it has been renamed, nostalgically, “Gimbels” — isn’t really Santa, he hisses, with elfish self-righteousness, “You sit on a throne of lies!”
Ferrell pulls off some marvelous physical stuff as well: Buddy negotiates his first-ever escalator by stretching his legs between the moving steps in a giant split. And he and his love interest, Jovie (played with great charm by zonked-out snow angel Zooey Deschanel), have a rapport that resembles the antics of gamboling kittens more than it does real-life dating — which is precisely what makes it so much fun.
“Elf” moves along on swift little felt feet, stumbling just a bit in the last third: You feel that at certain points, Favreau wasn’t quite sure how to shape the material. There’s a sequence in which a hotheaded, arrogant children’s book writer (played with surly relish by Peter Dinklage), who happens to be a dwarf, beats the heck out of Buddy, who has, of course, mistaken him for a fellow “little person.” The sequence has a rough-and-tumble “Three Stooges” quality that doesn’t suit the movie as perfectly as it might.
The picture’s climax, too, feels a bit misshapen, as if the story needed to be wrapped up fast and big and no one was quite sure how to do it. But the more I’ve thought about “Elf” in the days since I’ve seen it, the more its minor flaws recede and the more its casual brilliance steps to the forefront. What really resonates are things like Favreau’s choice of music, and the way he uses it to enhance what we’re seeing on-screen, as opposed to attempting to clobber us into a heightened state of feeling. (When Buddy first arrives in Manhattan, his exploration of this strange and enormous new village is set to Louis Prima’s “Pennies From Heaven.” And Deschanel — who, incidentally, can really sing — and Ferrell get a lovely, tossed-off duet on “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.”)
Then there’s the way Buddy explains to anyone who’ll listen how he made his way to Manhattan: “Then I crossed the Sea of Swirly, Twirly Gumdrops. And then I walked through the Lincoln Tunnel.” Or the way, once he’s gotten there, he locates the Empire State Building: Papa Elf has given him a snow globe encasing a miniature New York skyline, and when he reaches the corner of 34th Street and Fifth Avenue, he holds the globe aloft and compares its miniature scenery with the real-life edifice in front of him.
It’s a stunningly simple visual trick, and a lovely one. And it’s just one more bit of proof that “Elf” is a movie made by people who really have their thinking caps on. As Newhart’s Papa Elf explains in the movie’s opening, there are three main jobs for elves: Making shoes in the middle of the night, baking cookies inside a hollow tree and — the most prestigious gig of all — building toys in Santa’s workshop. But how many human beings among us are capable of making a comedy with wit and intelligence that also takes bold pleasure in unabashed silliness? I think this is what happens when you let an elf loose with a movie camera.
Stephanie Zacharek is a senior writer for Salon Arts & Entertainment. More Stephanie Zacharek.
How to argue with right-wing relatives
Responding to common conservative talking points without losing your mind
(Credit: iStockphoto/RobMattingley) There comes a time at most large family gatherings when a heated political argument breaks out. And by “heated political argument” what I mean is “someone just repeats something they heard on Hannity’s radio show that you know to be completely untrue.” You may be the lone liberal in a conservative family, or you may have one right-wing uncle in your left-wing family, but this will happen. What to do?
If you have a “smart phone,” just bookmark Snopes now. That’ll take care of the really weird stuff. (Well, not this level of weird, but “I read that airlines don’t pair Christian pilots and co-pilots in case The Rapture happens” weird.)
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Alex Pareene writes about politics for Salon and is the author of "The Rude Guide to Mitt." Email him at apareene@salon.com and follow him on Twitter @pareene More Alex Pareene.
#occupychristmas
Throughout much of history, the holiday was a celebration of rebellion against authority. It's time to reclaim it
Christmas has always been politicized. Since 2005, when Fox News commentator John Gibson published “The War on Christmas: How the Liberal Plot to Ban the Sacred Christian Holiday Is Worse Than You Thought,” the focus has mainly been on a supposed progressive agenda to, in the words of Bill O’Reilly, “get Christianity and spirituality out of the public square.” Last year the New York City YMCA drew criticism for replacing Santa Claus with Frosty the Snowman at a family event — children were forced, complained the New York Post, to “suffer the icy embrace of a talking snowman” instead of the warm hug of a fur-clad fat man. This year the American Family Association has once again called out retailers who favor the word “holidays,” placing them on its “Naughty” list.
Continue Reading CloseThomas Christensen’s "1616: The World in Motion," an illustrated study of travel and cross-cultural connections in the early seventeenth century, will be published by Counterpoint Press in March 2012. More Tom Christensen.
The fake “War on Christmas” outrage
It's become as integral to the season as caroling and Black Friday -- but the sentiment is completely manufactured
One of the defining qualities of late December is the predictable and ritualized nature of America’s holiday season. Other than discovering what’s inside the wrapped gift boxes, there’s no mystery or suspense to it anymore. The Christmas music starts right before Thanksgiving. Then come the flickering lights, the red-and-green decor, Hollywood’s vacation movie blitz, and finally, with media charlatans turning the key, the fake outrage machine rumbles back to life.
Like a narcissist’s souped-up 4-by-4, this turbocharged colossus of self-righteous indignation makes a lot of noise and leaves a mess in its wake — but ultimately says a lot more about its drivers’ pitiable insecurities than anything else.
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David Sirota is a best-selling author of the new book "Back to Our Future: How the 1980s Explain the World We Live In Now." He hosts the morning show on AM760 in Colorado. E-mail him at ds@davidsirota.com, follow him on Twitter @davidsirota or visit his website at www.davidsirota.com. More David Sirota.
Christmas fading in the Holy Land
In birthplace of Jesus, the exodus of Christians continues
In Jerusalem Christmas isn't much of a holiday.(Credit: Wikipedia) JERUSALEM — In the land that put Christ in Christmas, Christianity is shrinking.
Less than a century ago, Christians comprised nearly 10 percent of the population of Palestine (now Israel and the Palestinian territories). In 1946, the figure was around 8 percent. Today, Christians make up about 4 percent of the West Bank’s population, although there are still a few Christian-majority villages, such as Taybeh, whose skyline is dominated by church spires and whose businessmen produce the only Palestinian beer. In Israel, though Christians make up 10 percent of its Palestinian population, they only constitute 2.5 percent of the total population. In Gaza, the Christian minority is even smaller, representing just 1 percent of the population.
Continue Reading CloseKhaled Diab is an Egyptian journalist based in Jerusalem. His website is Chronikler. More Khaled Diab.
Corporate America: No complaints considered
In the age of pepper-sprayed Black Friday shoppers, stores clearly no longer care what their customers think
In the spirit of the season, I’d like to file a complaint — about complaints. Corporate America just doesn’t handle them the way they used to. As in, at all. I grew up in retail. My father owned a drugstore in upstate New York and was as old fashioned as the next guy when it came to the rules of doing business. As in, Rule #1: The customer is always right. Rule #2: See Rule #1.
Unless, of course, he caught a customer shoplifting, in which case all rules and rights were suspended, including habeas corpus. Make an attempt to sneak out of his establishment with a bottle of moisturizer or a pair of sunglasses and prepare for the thunder of God’s own drums. I never heard him yell at his own kids the way he yelled at any young, incipient Artful Dodger who tried to skip the joint with a purloined Snickers bar tucked under his shirt.
Continue Reading CloseMichael Winship is senior writing fellow at Demos and a senior writer of the new series, Moyers & Company, airing on public television. More Michael Winship.
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