It may not have the same high profile as A Muppet Family Christmas, Emmet Otter’s Jug-Band Christmas, or even the controversial Elmo’s Christmas Countdown, but there’s an anniversary worth taking note of this holiday season, as 2020 marks the twenty-fifth anniversary of Mr. Willowby’s Christmas Tree. In honor of this milestone, I decided to watch the special for the first time in many, many years. Now, the special has a bit of a reputation for being one of the rare clunkers in the Muppet Christmas canon, so I came in with very low expectations. But by the time the closing credits rolled, I had a revelation. An epiphany so earth-shattering that it shook me to my chestnuts. Now, this may be the eggnog talking, but this is a truth that I just have to share:
Mr. Willowby’s Christmas Tree is a freakin’ comedy classic.
I know, I was just as surprised as you probably are reading this. But watching this display of attempted warmth, adventure and honeypot-themed dances had me busting up laughing from start to finish. And so I wondered, “why is this series of poor choices dubbed a Christmas special causing such a reaction?” That’s when I started to think about what comedy is.
Comedy, at its core, relies on the element of surprise. Take for example, this knock-knock joke.
PERSON 1: Knock-knock.
PERSON 2: Who’s there?
PERSON 1: Vishnu.
PERSON 2: Vishnu who?
PERSON 1: We Vishnu a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
Now, if this were a standard conversation instead of a joke, the response to “Vishnu who?” would be closer to “Vishnu, from across the street. Some of your mail found its way into my mailbox, and I’d like to give it to you.” Not terribly funny, is it? (Unless you know that Vishnu is also the Hindu god of preservation and protector of good, and then the idea of a Hindu deity having to deal with an issue from the postal service is pretty funny.) But that’s the whole idea: comedy subverts our expectations of everyday life. It takes us by surprise and that’s what causes us to laugh. It’s how we deal with the unexpected. Thankfully, with most comedy, there’s no danger attached, and we can chuckle with a clear conscience. But how does this apply to Mr. Willowby? That’s where it gets interesting.
So if you have a holiday special that has Muppets, Robert Downey, Jr., Leslie Nielsen, and Stockard Channing, you might have some preconceived notions of what it might be. Let’s look at the human cast members. Mr. Downey, probably best known now for his role as Tony Stark/Iron Man in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, is known for giving complex, nuanced performances with a dry sense of humor. So what do they have him do here? Make him the most over-the-top, preposterous character that his behavior seems unnatural. He’s practically bouncing off the walls as he awaits his perfect tree, and later hides out of sight as Baxter processes his feelings for Miss Adelaide with all the subtlety of a Looney Tunes character. There’s whimsy, and then there’s this. It took me by such surprise that I couldn’t help but break up at the thought of that. He shows more restraint in Dolittle. (At least, I’m confident he does. Like most people, I have yet to actually see Dolittle.)
Speaking of Baxter, what is Leslie Nielsen famous for? Following a career in drama, he starred in some of the most popular comedies of all time, including Airplane! and The Naked Gun series. This is a man known for silliness, so much so that he even took his love of fart jokes to the grave. (No really, he did.) And of course, in the name of comedy, they decided to play with his reputation and have him say or do nothing funny at all. The closest bit we get to silliness is the opening number, where Baxter repeatedly removes a vase from a table to avoid Mr. Willowby colliding with it while he dances around the room. Beyond that, he sort of just reacts to everything as a professional butler would do. Isn’t that hilarious? It’s the equivalent of having Rowan Atkinson play Mr. Bean in a performance of Titus Andronicus, and having him play the part completely straight. It’s a perfect recipe for laughter!
Then there’s Miss Adelade herself, played by Stockard Channing. Like the comic having the “straight man” to play off of, Channing probably gives the best performance of the three human stars. By 1995, she was still a few years away from playing First Lady Bartlett on The West Wing, so her most recognizable role at the time was Rizzo in Grease. (Not the Rizzo we usually talk about here. The other one.) And like RDJ, she gets a musical number of her own about Christmas being a time for compassion and love, which has a solid payoff towards the end of the special. So why does she provoke chortles? Somehow, she plays the role with an exaggerated Scandinavian accent that even a certain culinary icon would accuse her of stereotyping.
And that’s not even including the Muppet part of the storyline, as a mouse and his two children quest to find the perfect tree, only to be dragged off by bears, owls, and unfunny butlers as each group takes their own piece of the tree. The characters have no agency of their own, just accepting the events happening around them. Do they learn a lesson about how the world can be a wonderful, magical place? Maybe, it’s hard to tell when they’re just saying “look at that!”. A Muppet special with a muddled message? That’s uproarious! But that’s not even the best part. Who could’ve directed this misfire? None other than Jon Stone, who also directed one of the all-time best Muppet holiday specials, Christmas Eve on Sesame Street. And that’s the best punchline I could think of.
By managing to eschew the level of quality the Muppets are usually known for, this special becomes a gut-busting comedy classic that might just become a regular part of my yuletide rotation. Or maybe it’s just caused me to lose my grip on reality. It’s very possible. Anyway, Happy Holidays!
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by Matthew Soberman
