Christmas, tradition, and camels walking across the stage
Thursday, November 12th, 2009
At the Radio City Christmas Spectacular, you can bring your coat to your seat, but you absolutely must leave your cynicism at the door. You’d think that would be hard for someone who lives in New York City, during a time when polarization rules politics and voyeuristic sniping rules pop culture, but I had no trouble at all.
I am originally from a small town in New England, and we had very traditional Christmas celebrations when I was growing up. We’d get a freshly cut tree for $10 from the high school vo-ag program, and we had a century-old, admittedly non-working fireplace to hang our stockings by.
My brother and I watched Rudolph until a certain age and then The Grinch until a little past that. (It’s not clear at what age Matt started rooting for the Grinch, but it was early.) And Aunt Pat made a mean double-glazed Christmas ham.
Aunt Pat died of cancer when I was 23, and my mom died of the same bastard disease when I was 28. That was it for big family celebrations, and that last Christmas remains one of the most bittersweet memories of my life. I’m not fishing for sympathy here. Not having much in the way of Christmas as an adult is fine. (I always save all my cards and presents to open that morning, wherever I am. And I like to buy a Hostess cherry pie, if I can find one.) I can’t imagine not having that one big, pull-out-all-the-stops, family holiday as a child, though. In that sense, I feel very lucky.
And that was how I felt last night watching the Christmas Spectacular for the first time. A flock of us had been invited to the show by Taylor Gordon, one of the dancers. (If you were to ask me which one, I could give you a long list of parts and scenes or just say “the best one” and let you figure it out.) It was fun to spot her in various roles, and I kept having to remind myself to look over at the famed Rockettes at center stage.
“The Parade of the Wooden Soldiers” is astounding! (NYT photo)
It is a very sentimental and traditional show. It is, for example, narrated by Santa Claus. It is about home and family and childhood and faith. There are some visually stunning religious scenes, but more than one particular religion, it is about allowing yourself to believe in something fragile and unprovable, about the capacity for wonder.
It’s a little hard to explain, but you’ll know what I mean if you see the show. Plus, you’ll get to see camels walking across the stage, some snazzy 3-D effects (the glasses come in the program), and two dozen other amazing sights. It is the very definition of “a big production.”
It is easy to see how all of the spectacle, fireworks, and effects could create a sense of wonder in a child. What I discovered last night is that it can also uncover that same sense of wonder, buried for years, in an adult in Aisle F, Row D.
I will almost certainly return to my standard world-weary cynicism tomorrow, but before I go, I highly recommend a trip to Radio City Music Hall in the next six weeks. If you do go, keep an eye out for the dancing ballerina bear on the right in the Nutcracker scene. If that’s too complicated to remember, just look for the best one.