The Office Starts Out Strong and Leaves This M*A*S*H Fan Smiling

For some time now, I've been bemoaning the lack of decent sit-coms on the air. The Simpsons is still consistently funny, but it's also been on the air for twenty years. A couple months ago, I would have said that the only recent sit-coms that really tickle my funny bone are Everybody Hates Chris and Flight of the Conchords, neither of which is on one of the major networks. Happily, I've now found another sit-com that is genuinely funny. I've been aware of The Office ever since it came out, but the snatches I caught of it didn't reel me in, and I wasn't so sure a corporate comedy was my kind of show. But my brother received the first four seasons on DVD for Christmas, so immersion was inevitable. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it.

The Office was originally a Brit-com, and like most, it had short seasons. I don't know if the mere six episodes in the American version are an intentional reflection of that or if the show just happened to start when the season was almost over, but it makes getting through the first season incredibly easy. I watched all six episodes in one sitting; it only takes about two hours, closer to three if you watch all of the deleted scenes (which I recommend). It's the perfect way to plunge into the show, and the DVD doesn't cost any more than a typical movie.

The Office follows the day to day business of the Scranton, Pennsylvania branch of a paper company called Dunder Mifflin. Mostly, it's funny business; rarely do we see these people actually working. My first impression of The Office was that it mirrors the comic strip Dilbert, with a bunch of people stuck in meaningless jobs who, on the rare occasion that they actually have an opportunity to accomplish something, are invariably thwarted by their brainless boss. Cult classic Office Space also comes to mind. What I didn't expect was that I would find myself drawing comparisons to my all-time favorite sit-com, M*A*S*H.

In M*A*S*H, the residents of the 4077th use laughter as a means of dealing with the horrors of war. Their problem is not a lack of purpose; they do incredibly important work but wish they didn't have to. In The Office, laughter combats utter tedium, which can, in its own way, be almost as soul-crushing as a war zone. Both shows poke fun at corporate red tape; I even have a Valentine's Day card which has company clerk Radar saying, "I have the forms to order the forms to apply to be your Valentine." Forms are always flying around at Dunder Mifflin, and usually they seem pretty ridiculous.

What's even more ridiculous, however, is the way boss Michael Scott (Steve Carell) reacts to them. He goes to absurd lengths to avoid them, and it falls to his underlings to force him to pay attention to these mind-numbing tasks. Michael reminds me very much of Colonel Henry Blake, the leader of the 4077th during the show's early years, which tended to be more silly than somber. While Blake is a perfectly competent surgeon, he's pretty hopeless as a leader, and his laid-back attitude makes it all the easier for troublemakers like Hawkeye and Trapper to pull the wool over his eyes as they engage in their shenanigans. Like him, Michael has enough skill in one particular area - sales - that his rise to management doesn't seem wholly implausible. He is a kind, decent man who is so determined to have his employees' friendship that he has a hard time commanding their respect. Unlike the colonel, he's always undermining his branch's productivity by interrupting his workers with pointless activities and awkward attempts at humor. Michael, as likable as he is, has an astonishing lack of understanding when it comes to appropriate conduct and terminology, and he has a habit of offending the very people to whom he tries to endear himself. He's more off-the-wall than Colonel Blake, the sort of guy who seems too ludicrous to be real, but Carell has the comedic chops to keep us laughing our heads off instead spending all of our time wondering why this guy is still in charge.

Just as M*A*S*H has Hawkeye and Trapper serving as the resident practical jokers, The Office has salesman Jim Halpert (John Krasinski) and receptionist Pam Beesly (Jenna Fischer), who are practically inseparable during this season and always cooking up new schemes with which to aggravate Dwight Schrute (Rainn Wilson), whose rigid, antagonistic streak is reminiscent of weasely Frank, Hawkeye's preferred target. Dwight, like Frank, aspires to a loftier position and is always trying to assign more power to his role than he has actually been given. His quirks are even more bizarre than Michael's, and Wilson's deadpan delivery of consistently outlandish lines makes Dwight the character most likely to cause me to squirt milk out of my nose.

These four are the most important characters in an office full of unique individuals. There's Angela Martin (Angela Kinsey), whose uptight attempts to exert control over her fellow office-dwellers recall Margaret Houlihan. The comparison is even more striking in the second season when she embarks upon a covert relationship with Dwight. Wunderkind temp Ryan Howard (B. J. Novak), like boyish Radar, is more competent than his boss - though he's nowhere near as lovable as Radar is. Sturdy saleslady Phyllis Lapin (Phyllis Smith), like the Chinese-Hawaiian Nurse Kellye, is a quiet positive force in the office, a kind woman who's always there but rarely gets noticed. I could probably continue, but you get the idea.

Do I think The Office consciously borrows from M*A*S*H? Probably not. But if this mockumentary, which develops its characters as often through their asides to the camera as through the scenes carrying the action (a device M*A*S*H uses on occasion), inspires such reflections from me, it's because I find it worthy of the comparison. I should have given The Office a shot sooner. Now, if I could just convince Alan Alda to put in a guest appearance...

LOST's Hatch Is Slightly Less Mysterious Than The Others and The Numbers

In 2006, my brother gave me two LOST: Mystery of the Island puzzles for Christmas. I assembled the one focusing on the mysterious Numbers within the month, but I saved the first in the series, The Hatch, for later. In the meantime, I bought and built The Others, though I still have yet to happen across Before the Crash, the fourth puzzle in the series, which was released later than the rest. Now that I've completed The Hatch, however, I'm ready.

The four puzzles promise exclusive insight into the series, which at the time these were released consisted of two seasons. I've yet to be wowed by any such revelations, but The Hatch, like The Numbers and The Others, is a very cool-looking puzzle. Its focus is the Swan Station, where much of the second season takes place. By the end of season two, another hatch has been physically discovered, and there are indications of the several others that exist throughout the island. But this 1000-piece puzzle keeps the spotlight on the first hatch the survivors know about.

Each of the LOST puzzles I've put together has had a clear pattern to it that makes assembly easier, though discerning that pattern sometimes takes a while. This one was the easiest for me to figure out. In the center of the puzzle is the gray octagonal emblem of the Swan hatch, with its particular sequence of three rows of black lines in each of the eight segments and a circle in the middle showing a stylized swan and the word DHARMA.

The emblem is centered within a patchy white circle that serves as the center point of what looks like a large spider web. Around the circle are eight sections of fairly uniform size and shape, each showing a different scene. Surrounding those are eight larger sections, also of the same size and shape as each other and also showing different scenes. Beyond those are eight more sections, though at this point, the edge of the puzzle is nearby, so since this is a rectangle rather than an octagon, the corner sections are much larger than those on the sides. The sections on the top and bottom are scarcely visible at all. It still takes a bit of maneuvering to figure out what goes where, but knowing the general layout makes assembly quite a bit easier. It also helps that you can put together one small section at a time if you prefer.

Anyone who has watched the second season of LOST will recognize notable images. The Numbers put in an appearance, as do the Geronimo Jackson record that Charlie investigates and the jars of food Hurley tries to distribute fairly. You'll see Desmond's bookshelf, with The Turn of the Screw in prominence for non-literary reasons, and the timer that taunted him for three years. The blast-door map that fascinates John pops up, as does the mural that greets Jack when he descends into the hatch's depths for the first time. You won't be able to avoid a glimpse of the beaten, bedraggled Henry Gale, whose secrets barely begin to be tapped this early in the series. In all, there are 23 pictures to study; the top three sections are actually all one picture.

As with the other puzzles in this series, The Hatch is meant to be glued in order for it to be enjoyed properly. Not only does this allow for its display, but it lets the proud puzzler flip to the other side and, with a black light in hand, study the invisible writing on the back. On its own, it's not very intelligible; there are random scribblings here and there, but for the most part it's a fourth of a map, which isn't terribly useful apart from the other three fourths. As I'm still missing one fourth, I haven't spent a lot of time studying this part of the puzzle.

If you're a LOST fan with a penchant for puzzles, I recommend this series, and I suspect you will find The Hatch slightly less maddening than the others so it might be a good one to start with. I haven't seen them in stores lately, but they're available online at a reasonable price; Amazon sells this one for eleven dollars at the moment. LOST is already one of the most puzzling television shows ever created, so it's the perfect subject of a brow-wrinkling puzzle or four.

Corny Christmas Caper Goes Well With Cookies

What's a thief to do when a big heist gets bungled, the cops are on her tail and her partner runs off with her share of the loot? In The Christmas Caper, a made-for-TV movie written by April Blair and directed by David Winkler, she decides now might be a good time to rekindle her relationship with her niece and nephew back in her hometown. Kate Dove (Shannen Doherty) has a strained relationship with her sister Savannah (Sonya Salomaa), so at first it doesn't even occur to Savannah to give her sis a call when a tropical trip is extended due to bad weather and her kids are in need of a babysitter for the next few days. When she finally calls, it's as a last resort, and the timing is perfect for a gal who really needs a hideout.

You can tell that Christmas Caper was made for television. Its production values are crummy, especially during the laughable storm sequences, and the plot is pretty silly. The most menacing character is Clive (Conrad Coates), Kate's former partner; he's more of a hard-core criminal than her or her gentle department store buddy Duffy (Michael Northey), who is a consistent source of comic relief. Still, even Clive is pretty tame, particularly when he crashes a neighborhood Christmas party she agrees to host so she can play Grinch in her neighbors' empty houses.

Kate returns to her hometown with every intention of continuing her life of crime, but she finds her priorities beginning to change as she starts bonding with her nephew Parker (Josh Hayden) and niece Annie (Natasha Calis). Parker seems bound and determined to be a juvenile delinquent, and Kate sees a lot of herself in him. He even pulls some of the same pranks she did when she was his age. Annie, on the other hand, is a Little Miss Perfect like Savannah, and initially that really gets on Kate's nerves, but eventually her personality is a gateway into understanding her sister.

Not only does Kate come to genuinely care about Parker and Annie, she finds that her high school sweetheart, Hank (Ty Olsson), who just happens to be the sheriff, is still in town and still smitten with her. As they begin to resurrect their relationship, Kate has to do some hard thinking about the life she has chosen for herself.

Doherty and Olsson are probably the strongest members of the cast, though Northey is the most entertaining. Calis is a tad on the shrill side, but Hayden is winning as a lovable scamp. Stefanie von Pfetten, as a goody-two-shoes neighbor named Holly whose life isn't as perfect as it seems, is a little over the top, but Salomaa is worse, and David Lewis, who plays Savannah's husband, is even cheesier. Some of the plot elements are scarcely believable. When my friend and I watched it, we often found ourselves laughing for the wrong reasons. But, as one would expect from ABC Family, it's a family film innocuous enough to make a good accompaniment to tree-trimming or cookie baking if you happen upon it while channel surfing this December.

Cary Grant Patches Lives and Steals Hearts in The Bishop's Wife

I was in high school when The Preacher's Wife hit theaters. Though I'd wanted to see it back then, I didn't get around to it until this year. My mom, meanwhile, had been hearing good things about The Bishop's Wife, on which the former is based, so once I kicked off my Christmas movie watching with the angelic Denzel, I figured I might as well move on to Cary Grant.

The Bishop's Wife is directed by Henry Koster and written by Leonardo Bercovici and Robert Sherwood. The first major difference between the two movies is that this 1948 film is in black and white, a condition I always find gravely disappointing, but if the movie is engaging enough it stops bugging me after a little while. This one is. The second significant difference is that while every major character in The Preacher's Wife is black, every major character in this movie is white.

It's a very different sort of setting, and David Niven, as Bishop Henry Brougham, has a decidedly aristocratic air. He's English, detached from his family and lives in a mansion, where he is attended by servants, one of whom is played by Elsa Lanchester, who I know as sourpuss nanny Katie Nana in Mary Poppins. So when Dudley (Grant) shows up with his little bag of angelic tricks to help Henry get control over his life, I couldn't help but think this movie has as much in common with Mary Poppins as with The Preacher's Wife.

I found Loretta Young more engaging than Whitney Houston in the role of the wife, Julia, who supports her husband's ministry but is beginning to feel neglected. She's a warm, passionate woman, and her vivacity increases in Dudley's presence. In this original version, Dudley has always been an angel, an entirely different order of being from humans, and he's been averting calamities for centuries. He's hobnobbed with ancient royalty, but he's never before become so entranced by a woman that he actually wishes he could stop being an angel. It comes to that in this movie, and Julia is the one who must ultimately decide the course of Dudley's future.

The plot is pretty similar overall. In both films, Henry is pressured by someone very wealthy to agree to the building of an opulent cathedral. In this case, it's elderly Mrs. Hamilton (Gladys Cooper), who seems cold as ice but whose past hides a private pain that Dudley is uniquely qualified to unlock. He oversteps his bounds a bit by taking Julia to a restaurant of great importance to her and her husband and spends an idyllic evening ice skating with her in the park.

Because this Dudley is an angel in a truer sense of the word than Washington's Dudley, he does a lot more than change just the Bishop. He has a profound impact on several minor characters who don't have counterparts in the remake, including world-weary cabbie Sylvester (James Gleason) and atheistic history professor Wutheridge (Monty Woolley). Of course, because he's Cary Grant, he has a different sort of impact on every woman he meets. All the swooning gets a little silly after a while. And I get the impression that these ladies were not acting.

It's hard to say which of the two films I liked better, as there were aspects of each that I preferred. While I would much rather watch The Bishop's Wife in color, the movie is vibrant enough to make up for it, much like its contemporary, It's a Wonderful Life. While Bishop Henry is no George Bailey, we want his life to turn around, and it sure is fun to see just how that happens.

Let These Seven Peek-a-Poohs Decorate Your Home

Several years ago, my mom and I stumbled upon Tomy's Peek-a-Pooh line of vending machine toys at a local KMart. I collected a number of them from various machines around town until it occurred to me that perhaps I could make things easier on myself and buy them by the set online. As it happened, I was right. Most of the sets are inexpensive, and it's a whole lot easier than trying to snag one of each from a vending machine. One of the sets I was drawn to was the tenth, the series of seven Christmas-themed Poohs. I knew that come December, I'd be making good use of them.

Peek-a-Poohs are tiny plastic Winnie-the-Pooh figures, about one and a half inches tall, wearing costumes that follow a certain theme, depending on the set. Occasionally, other characters are incorporated as well, but most Peek-a-Poohs only feature the silly old bear. Some of them stand flat, while others are designed only to dangle. Many people use them as cell phone decorations, but each can hang from any type of hook or knob that will accommodate the golden thread suspending it. When I put mine out as part of our Christmas decorations, I hung them on the knobs of the kitchen cabinets, where they fit perfectly.

There are seven figures in this set, which is a bit of an unusual number; most sets have six or eight figures. While the possibilities for Christmas-related costumes certainly are not exhausted within these pieces, there's a nice variety of figures here. Four of them stand freely. There's the poinsettia, which features a smiling Pooh peeking out from the center of a potted poinsettia plant. He's stretched out and grinning in a bright green present, and he's winking as he heads down the chimney as Santa Claus.

Finally, the Yule log is brown on the bottom and white on the top, and it looks as though Pooh is fast asleep, stretched out cozily inside his costume. (I particularly enjoy this one because it reminds me of the song my brother and his friend used to sing in French class to the tune of the carol Chantez Noel: "Zut! Je m'appelle Bouche de Noel!" Which means something to the effect of "Darn! My name is Yule Log Cake!" Doesn't make much sense, but it always got them giggling!)

The less self-sufficient figures include the stocking, which has a laughing Pooh with closed eyes peering out from within a red stocking overflowing with gifts; a wreath with a large red bow, in which a Pooh who is either singing or is very surprised peers open-mouthed from the center; and a pale blue star decorated with tiny, dark blue stars, in which Pooh's expansively smiling face appears in the middle. This one looks especially nice as a dangling decoration.

Cabinets are only one possibility for where these could hang. They could go on the banister or be hung from lamps. Naturally, they could also be suspended from the branches of a Christmas tree. If you're an especially avid Pooh fan, it might be worth it to purchase a small artificial tree just for your Peek-a-Poohs. I'm still trying to figure out the best way to display mine year-round.

This nice little set only set me back about six dollars, and if you're looking to buy several at once, you can save quite a bit on shipping costs. This particular set may be best displayed toward the end of the year, but it's never too early to start getting ready for the next December!

This Christmas Will Be a Very Rowdy Christmas For Me...

My search for Christmas movies in November and December brought me mostly movies containing "Christmas" in the title, since, as far as I know, Netflix does not have a search function that brings up all movies on a particular subject. When I typed in "Christmas," This Christmas is one of the first films that came up. This 2007 movie written and directed by Preston A. Whitmore II is about a raucous family whose members convene for the holidays and find thy have all sorts of issues to work through.

Everything centers around Ma'Dere, the family matriarch played by Loretta Devine. I've seen her in several comical roles before and found her quite funny; here, she uses her comedic gifts but also has the opportunity to get serious. She runs a dry cleaning establishment and takes pride in being able to distribute the modest profits among her children, but not all of them are so sure that it's worth it for her to keep the family business running.

Lisa (Regina King), the eldest daughter, is convinced the time has come to sell, in part due to the urging of her husband Malcolm (Laz Alonso). However, she has been rather disconnected from the family, and her siblings, particularly her sister Melanie (Lauren London), distrust her motives. Model Kelli (Sharon Leal) finds herself preoccupied with a young man who used to admire her from afar when they were in school together.

The men of the family have other things on their minds. Quentin (Idris Elba), who's been gone for years, is worried about repaying a debt he owes to some dangerous people. Claude (Columbus Short) has been away in the army and never mentioned to anybody that he picked up a wife while he was there. Michael (Chris Brown) is the baby-faced youngster of the family, a high school student afraid to reveal to his mother his passion for singing, since his father left years ago to pursue his dreams of being a musician and his mother has equated music with abandonment ever since. Still, there's a new man in her life now, the upright Joe Black (Delroy Lindo), so this may be the perfect time to let bygones be bygones.

With so many siblings (and their significant others) to keep track of, this movie is sometimes rather hard to follow; I found myself mixing up the back stories of various characters, especially Lisa and Mel and Quentin and Claude. By the end of the movie, though, I had them pretty well straightened out. I think the film could have done with a bit of editing; it dragged for me, especially toward the beginning. I also found a few scenes uncomfortable, especially a couple involving retribution for a marital indiscretion.

On the other hand, I loved the character of Joe, who not only is a caring boyfriend but truly goes out of his way to help the children of his ladylove, even (and maybe especially) the antagonistic Quentin. I also found the storyline of Michael revealing his talent to his mother touching, and I felt the songs that showcased his talent fit right into the film instead of feeling superfluous, as sometimes happens when a pop star doubles as an actor. While it's not a movie I'd go out of my way to watch again, This Christmas is a nice tale of an extremely fractured family coming together and letting Christmas work its magic upon them.

Will Mom Get In the Way When Rerun Wants a Dog for Christmas?

It's been more than 40 years since a droopy little tree and a recitation from the Gospel of Luke first charmed television audiences in A Charlie Brown Christmas. Since then, it has become a cherished tradition. I don't think any Peanuts special since has quite captured the majesty of that first one, but whenever one of them is aired on television, I look forward to sitting down and watching it. Because Christmas is such a popular subject, it's not too surprising that the Peanuts gang starred in more than one Christmas special.

Several years ago I watched It's Christmastime Again, Charlie Brown, a fun but rather scattered special involving, among other things, Sally's determination to remember her big line in the upcoming play and her insistence that Harold Angel was going to be singing in the program. More recently, I watched I Want a Dog for Christmas, Charlie Brown, a Peanuts special produced after the death of Charles Schulz but taken from his strips, many of which can be found in the book It's a Dog's Life, Snoopy.

While It's Christmastime Again is largely a series of vignettes, I Want a Dog for Christmas has a pretty strong plot thread. Its main focus is Rerun (Jimmy Bennett), Linus's (Corey Patnos) little look-alike brother, who is always showing up on Charlie Brown's (Adam Taylor Gordon) doorstep asking if Snoopy (Bill Melendez) can come out and play. Usually his idea of playing involves Snoopy catching a ball and bringing it back or Snoopy puling Rerun on a sled - strenuous activities requiring a very tolerant pooch. Snoopy is only occasionally accommodating; more often, he's sitting inside laughing hysterically at the audacity of this pipsqueak.

Naturally, Rerun wouldn't have to be constantly trying to borrow Charlie Brown's dog if the Van Pelt residence had a dog as well. So Rerun, undeterred by older sister Lucy's (Ashley Rose) protests that their mother will never let him keep a dog, sets out to ask Santa for his heart's desire. Eventually, though, it's Snoopy who provides what seems like the perfect opportunity; it seems his desert-dwelling brother Spike has been lonesome of late and might just be amenable to a new living arrangement...

While Linus has always been my favorite of the Van Pelts - and probably my favorite human character in the strip - Rerun is pretty fun to observe. He's a very quirky kid who's not at all afraid to speak his mind. His conversations with a kindergarten classmate (Kaitlyn Maggio) are illuminating, and his lack of tact as he complains, in the presence of Linus and Lucy, about his family situation reminds me of my own little brother. It's not always easy being the youngest - though as the (hopefully less crabby) Lucy of my family, I contend that the youngest sometimes don't know how easy they have it!

Though Spike has a fairly minor role in the special, it's always fun to see Snoopy's relatives, and Spike's bland personality seems well suited to a lad who wants a dog he can control; Snoopy is much too independent for that. The first time I watched this, I had my doubts about it, since I hadn't been particularly impressed with Lucy Must Be Traded, Charlie Brown, a special which was released earlier that same year. I was pleased to find the story engaging and humorous, with plenty of Snoopy to keep things fun. I also appreciated that the characters all sounded fairly similar to those in A Charlie Brown Christmas; there have been specials in which the voices have sounded decidedly off to me. Compared to that classic, I Want a Dog for Christmas, Charlie Brown feels like a bit of a lightweight, but standing on its own it is a perfectly solid special, and one of the better Peanuts adventures I've seen.

Celebrate Christmas All Year Long With the VeggieTales Nativity Set

A few years ago, I received an e-mail inviting me to consider becoming a consultant for VeggieMoms, a Pampered Chef-style outreach of the Big Idea company through which enthusiasts of the computer animated characters of VeggieTales sell DVDs and other products to folks in a home setting. Given my passion for VeggieTales, I couldn't resist giving it a whirl; it didn't last long, but during my brief stint I became aware of several Veggie goodies I hadn't seen before. One of the most enticing was the Nativity set. I had planned to purchase it when I placed the orders for a show I was giving in early December, but that show was canceled and I never got around to ordering it on my own. Every Christmas since, I've told myself I ought to buy it, but in the pre-Christmas craziness it never seems to happen, so I was thrilled to find it sitting under the tree on Christmas morning this year.

The VeggieTales Nativity set is designed as both a decorative piece and a play set. It can easily sit on display, especially on a shelf or similar flat surface, but the pieces are of sturdy plastic and can be moved around easily and safely. In the aftermath of Christmas, I kept mine on the floor beneath the tree, on top of the tree skirt, so it wasn't entirely level ground and the pieces had a tendency to tip over, but the figures standing on the stage didn't have much trouble staying upright. The set comes with a cardboard floor made to resemble hardwood and a dark blue backdrop spangled with white stars. Separate from that is a plastic stable with three small rooms, thatched roof and a window that opens and closes. The center portion of the stable has a solid back wall, while the other two have walls of stone that are missing chunks at the top. It gives the building a look of disrepair that still manages to seem cozy.

The sense that I get with this set is that we are meant to see it as a Christmas pageant that various Veggies are putting on. The cardboard floor itself, not to mention the stable, is small enough that it isn't really possible to fit all of the figures inside unless you have some of them hanging out on the roof. Otherwise, it's best to let them spill out in front of the cardboard. I imagine this was a consideration in determining how many figures to include. Whenever you have a series as involved as VeggieTales, you're going to have trouble fitting all of the characters into any one project, and that's certainly the case here. Several very prominent characters are missing, most notably Bob the Tomato. I like to imagine that Bob is the director of this little play and that Archibald Asparagus, also absent, is the off-stage musical director.

In terms of props, the set includes a small yellow stand-up that I take to be a bale or two of hay; a tall palm tree; and a little blue manger with detachable brown legs that houses the tiny carrot portraying the Baby Jesus. His sister Laura can be found at the top of the stable, dressed as an angel set against the backdrop of a plastic star. If you press her nose, the star blinks and, in a rather wobbly voice, she sings the first two lines of O Little Town of Bethlehem. This is a charming addition that has proven rather startling lately, as we've had the stable lying face up on the couch for a few days while I decide just where to put it for the year; somehow, my cats keep managing to step on it, and initially, I always think it's them meowing.

Joseph is portrayed by an unknown gourd who looks very cute in his costume, and Mary, played by the little-known Mabel the pear, looks especially adorable in her rippling blue fabric. It isn't actually fabric, of course; it's just plastic, and it can't be removed. Still, they make a lovely pair. Junior Asparagus gets to be the shepherd, which seems especially fitting given his role as a shepherd in A Very Veggie Christmas. He wears beige duds tied with blue rope and looks positively delighted with his duty, while the pair of peas with cottonball wool and floppy black ears seem quite content to be his charges.

Then there are the three wise men, whose identities we are left to ponder. Their gifts are not in plain view, and evidently their camels are off getting a drink somewhere. Larry is considerably taller than his cohorts and wears a deep blue vest, purple robe and yellow turban. He also has a curly brown beard, which gives him a much more distinguished look than usual. Pa Grape retains his glasses and wears a swirly purple and gold hat with robes to match. Mr. Lunt is dressed in a red robe trimmed with white, and his head bears a jewel-encrusted silver crown. If you peek down at his head from above, you'll notice that you can see his stringy brown hair, perfectly parted down the middle. That just leaves Jimmy and Jerry Gourd, the only characters who don't have any attached clothing. The two of them fit perfectly inside of a cow costume, which is easily the funniest element of the set. It's a large white and black cow with a bulbous pink nose and beady eyes, and poor Jimmy is stuck in the back of the bovine for the duration of the play, while the taller Jerry stares ahead, grinning.

There are so many great Veggie characters that couldn't be incorporated into this set, I'm a little surprised that Mary and Joseph are portrayed by "anonymous" Veggies. I would've loved to see Annie, a soft-spoken, bespectacled scallion who has been underused throughout the series, portraying Mary or another angel. Of course, the Veggie folks could have incorporated more characters by adding any number of angels, shepherds and farm animals, and perhaps the innkeeper as well. While it would have been fun to have an excuse to include the likes of Scooter, Madame Blueberry, Mr. Nezzer and Petunia, it's probably just as well not to make things too crowded. This set includes two stationary characters and nine that are movable, which makes for a pretty full stable!

I love the VeggieTales Nativity play set and intend to display it somewhere in my room throughout the year. My only concern is my cats' fascination with the figures; several of them have been batted around, and poor Jimmy wound up under the couch for a few days after an especially satisfying chase. As long as I get them back in one piece, however, I'm willing to share my Veggies with my feline friends, not to mention any pals of the human variety. If VeggieTales is the show for you, then invite the gang in for a festive celebration of what Christmas is really all about.

An Everyman Strives to Make the Country - and Himself - Better in Swing Vote

This past week found me glued to the television two nights in a row for a pair of long-anticipated events: the Inauguration of Barack Obama and the season five premiere of LOST. A couple days later, I found myself watching a movie with relevance to both: Swing Vote, a feel-good satire about our nation's political process.

Okay, so it's mostly relevant to the ushering in of a new president, as the whole movie is about an extraordinarily close presidential election whose outcome is to be determined by a single man, an immature, beer-swilling single dad in New Mexico named Bud Johnson (Kevin Costner). The particulars of how this duty is bestowed upon him stretch believability, but this is a movie designed to lampoon the circus that is campaigning, so realism isn't a terribly important consideration.

There's enough truth within it to strike a chord with those weary of the endless games politicians seem to play in hopes of winning that coveted vote. In this film, the contenders are Republican incumbent Andrew Boone (Kelsey Grammer), an ultra-conservative fellow who finds common ground with Bud in such earthy activities as football and Nascar, and Democratic hopeful Donald Greenleaf (Dennis Hopper), who appeals to Bud's love of fishing and his fondness for Willie Nelson. I appreciate that writer-director Joshua Michael Stern depicts both candidates as honorable and capable, albeit with very particular prejudices on certain matters. With only one man to impress, both parties throw all of their effort behind attempts to appease him, egged on by their unethical advisors, played by a sibilant Stanley Tucci and pushy Nathan Lane. Meanwhile, Bud becomes a media darling, an instant celebrity on whom the hopes of the country are pinned.

The LOST connection comes in the form of Madeline Carroll, the young actress who plays Bud's daughter Molly. It only took me a moment to realize why I recognized her; though her total onscreen time probably amounted to less than fifteen minutes, she made a big impression on me as Annie, childhood sweetheart of the perpetually perplexing Ben Linus, in season three's The Man Behind the Curtain. I've been itching for the return of her character on the show and expect it will happen at some point, though not necessarily with Carroll in the role; hence, I was pretty tickled to see her here.

Inevitably, I had to draw a few LOST comparisons. We don't know much about Annie's parentage, other than that she must have at least one parent who works for the Dharma Initiative. But Molly's relationship with her father has parallels with Ben's - not, happily, in his level of affection toward her, which is undeniable, but in the way that she has to look after him, particularly after he has been drinking. Bud is clueless but not abusive, but Molly's best friend isn't so lucky, and the isolated children find solace in each other, particularly during a swing set scene that reminds me not only of Ben and Annie but also of a certain shadowy Hogwarts professor and his long-lost love.

Molly really is the heart of the film, a middle schooler with big ambitions who's tired of feeling as though she is raising her dad instead of the other way around. At times, she's an insufferable know-it-all, as only a clever preteen girl can be, but for the most part, she is likable, and it's heartwarming to see how Bud's awareness of the importance of his decision develops because of his daughter. The movie is less snarky and more warm-hearted than I expected, and the great cast helps make the outlandish situation easier to swallow. With this last election still fresh in everyone's minds, Swing Vote is a funny and timely film.

American Girl Hits the Big Screen in Kit Kittredge, Hopefully Not for the Last Time

When I was about ten years old, I fell in love with the American Girl company. First I read the books, and then I sent away for the catalogs, which I would rapturously peruse for hours, studying each of the dolls from various historical periods and marveling at all the intricate props and costumes available for purchase. My level of obsession was high enough that when Christmas arrived, I received Samantha, a Victorian orphan living with her wealthy grandmother, along with the glasses meant for World War II-era Molly and the Santa Lucia dress belonging to Kirsten, a Swedish immigrant living on the frontier in the mid-1800s. At that time, those were the only three girls in the collection. Now that number has increased to nine. One of the newbies is Kit, whose books take place during the 1930s. Though I hadn't read any of the stories pertaining to her, I trust the quality of the American Girl franchise and was looking forward to watching Kit Kittredge: An American Girl, the first American Girl movie to be released in theaters rather than on television.

Kit, a plucky ten-year-old who dreams of being a reporter, is played by Abigail Breslin, and she's only one of the big names in this charming piece of historical fiction. Others include the dashing Chris O'Donnell as Kit's doting dad Jack, who leaves town to search for work after he is laid off early in the film; the explosive Wallace Shawn as Mr. Gibson, a newspaper editor who sees reporter potential in Kit but isn't about to print one of her stories unless it genuinely wows him; Joan Cusack as eccentric mobile librarian Miss Bond; Stanley Tucci as Jefferson Berk, a charismatic magician with a ridiculous mustache; and Colin Mochrie of Whose Line Is It, Anyway? as a kindly hobo Kit and her friends encounter in a settlement just outside of town.

The context of the tale is the Great Depression, and the situations may ring all too true for many of the children watching. Job loss is rampant, and many of those accustomed to extravagant living find themselves having to drastically alter their lifestyles in order to scrape by. Kit's compassionate mother, Margaret (Julia Ormond), copes by opening her home to boarders. She also hires on Will (Max Thieriot), a teenage transient with a strong work ethic, in exchange for food. Kit's home becomes a place of constant activity, and she and her loyal friends, wealthy Ruthie (Madison Davenport) and destitute Stirling (Zach Mills), are always on the lookout for a promising lead that could win her that much-desired publication.

There's adventure aplenty in this wholesome tale, which encourages generosity, determination and tolerance. It's rare these days to see a G-rated movie, especially a live-action one; Kit Kittredge feels like a throwback to the glory days of family-friendly films. I would certainly consider it appropriate for children and adults to watch together; the movie is likely to entertain as well as educate viewers of all ages. Ann Peacock's script, based in part on the books written by Valerie Tripp, is full of fun little twists that keep even adults guessing. All the clues are laid out so that the audience can draw the correct conclusions, but they are subtle enough that if you'd rather just go along for the ride and be surprised, the solutions to various mysteries won't necessarily jump right out at you.

I was impressed by every aspect of this movie, from the excellent cast to the clever plotting and the attention to detail with the costumes and props. I especially loved Kit's tree house and the cart that she uses to sell eggs later in the movie. Although I've been a fan of American Girl for many years now, I found this movie even better than I expected. Nothing about it suggested to me that it should have been put on television like its predecessors; if anything, it made me wonder if perhaps the earlier films should have gotten the theater treatment as well. I'm eager to investigate that matter, and I hope that, although Kit didn't make much of a splash at the box office, she won't be the last of the American Girls to hit the big screen.

The Boy Named Charlie Brown Is No Failure Face

I'm a big fan of Peanuts, so when Netflix directed me to a Charlie Brown film I'd never seen, and a full-length one at that, I was excited. At first, when I received A Boy Named Charlie Brown in the mail, I thought the movie might be something along the lines of a cartoon version of the stage musical, You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown. But while that play gives all the characters equal time and is more a series of vignettes than an actual story, this film has a very definite plot, and Charlie Brown (Peter Robbins) has a larger role to play in it than anyone else, with the possible exception of Linus (Glenn Gilger).

One of Charlie Brown's most endearing qualities is his tendency toward lousy luck. It's easy for us to see ourselves in this boy who can't get his kite in the air or work up the nerve to talk to the little red-haired girl. But it doesn't seem fair for this good-hearted lad to fall flat on his face time and again. Surely even the blockhead with the jagged stripe on his shirt ought to have a genuine shot at glory. Charles Schulz must have thought so, too, because in this movie, we find that Charlie Brown is actually good at something. It turns out that he has a knack for spelling. He has such a knack, in fact, that he makes it all the way to the National Spelling Bee.

I never would have figured Charlie Brown, who has such trouble getting through letters to his pen pal, for a literary ace, but it seems to have been a latent talent. Once he discovers it, he does everything he can to nurture it, largely for the sake of his friends, who are quickly caught up in the excitement. He even comes up with a song that might prove helpful to those who struggle with spelling. Then again, as someone who once participated in a citywide spelling bee, I understand Charlie Brown's frustration in poring over long lists of words; this movie does nothing to glamorize the process and could scare some kids off when they see the way the preparations can overtake one's life.

I found the main storyline extremely engaging, along with a subplot involving Linus lending Charlie Brown his security blanket and then going through extreme withdrawal symptoms after a short time without it. His pain is evident in his appearance, as he is shaky, clammy and discolored, but its most memorable manifestation is in the subversion of the peppy Linus and Lucy tune, turning it into a minor-key dirge whenever Linus appears onscreen without his beloved blanket. I'm also a fan of the sappy theme song written and sung by Rod McKuen, though I find the other songs he penned a bit grating, especially the taunting Failure Face.

What I could have done without in the special are several extremely trippy montages that reminded me a bit of some of the scarier animated segments in Sesame Street history. They don't serve much of a purpose, and the series of flashing images is headache-inducing. These diversions occur mainly in the first half of the film, before the focus turns almost entirely to Charlie Brown's studies and Linus's struggles. I doubt Schulz had much to do with them, as they're entirely lacking in dialogue or plot; they're just an excuse for Bill Melendez to show off some fancy animation and Vince Guaraldi to expand his jazzy score. Some will probably find these segments appealing, but for me, they dragged the movie down a bit.

Still, if you're a Charlie Brown fan, you'll definitely want to check this out to see how much triumph the perpetual loser will be allowed. Despite a few ironic twists, A Boy Named Charlie Brown leaves one with a feeling of optimism. If Charlie Brown can suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune and still press on, why not the rest of us?

Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog Is a Beastly Beauty

Last week, my brother came downstairs and announced, "There's something we need to watch." As both of us had a small stack of DVDs given to us at Christmas, this was an ambiguous statement, so I waited for him to elaborate. Instead of making for the tree, he headed over to the computer and started up Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, which I'd seen referenced in Entertainment Weekly but knew little about. Written and directed by Joss Whedon of Buffy the Vampire Slayer fame, in collaboration with Jed Whedon and Maurissa Tancharoen, it's a series of three 15-minute-long video blogs created during the Writers' Strike. It stars Neil Patrick Harris as Dr. Horrible (otherwise known as Billy), Felicia Day as Penny, the girl of his dreams, and Nathan Fillion as his nemesis, Captain Hammer.

The first part begins with Dr. Horrible at his blogging station, answering mail from fans. He returns to this position occasionally, but most of the blog follows him, Captain Hammer and Penny around town as they strive to achieve their individual goals. Dr. Horrible's aims are clear: to finally be accepted as a member of the Evil League of Evil and to get up the nerve to have a coherent conversation with Penny at the laundromat they both frequent. Meanwhile, Penny spends her time petitioning to save an old building so that it can be transformed into a homeless shelter, while Captain Hammer does his best to thwart Dr. Horrible (and Billy, too).

This is an unconventional superhero story because we're meant to root for the villain, whose evil aspirations rarely match up with his mousy personality (or his anemic villainous laugh). Scrawny Billy is an angsty but pensive and gentle soul who considers killing inelegant and passes on an invitation to duel because the chosen location is within sight of children. Muscle-bound Captain Hammer is a narcissistic lunkhead reminiscent of Cartoon Network's Johnny Bravo. Saintly Penny, unaware of Billy's "Ph.D. in horribleness," is caught in the middle. The only other semi-major character is Moist (Simon Helberg), Billy's wet blanket of a roommate, who seems kind but ineffective.

I wasn't completely sold on Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog until the singing began. At that point, I found myself entirely delighted with My Freeze Ray, Billy's jaunty tune in which his villainous dreams and his infatuation with Penny merge: "With my freeze ray I will stop the world. / With my freeze ray I will / Find the time to find the words to / Tell you how / How you make / Make me feel..." I never knew that Harris was such a talented singer, though my brother informed me he's been on Broadway. He has a very pleasant tone to his voice and expresses emotion quite well with his vocals. This cheerful tune is my favorite of the seven songs in which he plays a prominent role, but I'm also a big fan of the brooding My Eyes, in which he alternates with Day as Billy and Penny separately reflect on her new relationship with Captain Hammer.

Fillion, whose baritone reminds me of Gaston in Beauty and the Beast, has three songs in which to shine, most notably the overblown We Are the World-style Everyone's a Hero, in which he condescendingly explains to an adoring crowd how Penny has transformed him into a humanitarian and how he now appreciates the struggles of the less fortunate: "Everyone’s a hero in their own way / Everyone’s got villains they must face / They’re not as cool as mine / But folks, you know it’s fine to know your place." Day's voice is soft and whispery, and her big solo truly is inspirational, in a much quieter way: "Even in the darkness / Every color can be found / And every day of rain / Brings water flowing / To things growing in the ground." All three, along with several minor characters, come together for So They Say, a group song that again reminds me of Beauty and the Beast, this time the show-stopping Belle, as it involves the whole town reacting to a juicy bit of news involving Captain Hammer and Penny.

To make comparisons to that exquisite Disney musical is to pay Whedon and company a sincere compliment. These are some of the most cleverly written songs I've encountered in a while, full of complex rhymes, catchy melodies and character-revealing moments. Story parallels exist as well. Penny is as compassionate as Belle, though she's more of a damsel in distress than that spunky heroine. Captain Hammer is just as self-involved as Gaston and engages in charitable deeds half-heartedly to win the girl. Dr. Horrible, instead of being condemned to a beastly fate, seeks that alteration himself in response to a world that he feels has been cruel to him. In addition to the elements of musical, comedy and romance, the tale becomes an examination of what drives otherwise decent people to embrace evil deeds. Even more pressing than the question of who winds up with Penny is the question of whether Dr. Horrible can - or should - truly pursue both goals simultaneously and hope for any degree of success. They certainly seem incongruous, and the answer provided by the finale offers food for thought and plenty of room for further exploration. That's why I'm thrilled to hear that Dr. Horrible will be back. Though I don't know whether his next adventure will take the direction I would like, I'll most certainly be watching the continuing journey.

An Angel Helps Bring Unity in The Preacher's Wife

Back in late November, I arranged my Netflix queue so that I would be getting nothing but Christmas movies for the next month or so. The first of my Christmas flicks was The Preacher's Wife, which I'd been meaning to see for quite some time. Though I knew it was a remake of The Bishop's Wife, which I'd never seen either, I opted for the more recent movie first, since I wanted to watch it without knowing most of the basic plot ahead of time.

The title character in The Preacher's Wife, which is directed by Penny Marshall, is Julia Biggs, played by pop powerhouse Whitney Houston. Julia is the daughter of a much-loved preacher, and she is extremely active in the church where her husband Henry (Courtney B. Vance) took over for him following his death. Henry has devoted his life to caring for others, but it's become exhausting, and now Joe Hamilton (Gregory Hines), a wealthy former congregant, wants to buy his church and replace it with a fancy new cathedral in a location more convenient for his plans for the city.

With so many issues to deal with at once, Henry cries out in desperation for divine assistance, and his prayer results in an extended visit from Dudley, an angel portrayed by Denzel Washington. Dashing Dudley, who has a knack for lifting spirits with a touch of his hand, is the real star of the show, the catalyst who brings about extraordinary changes in a downtrodden neighborhood. Some are more open to him than others. The young narrator, Jeremiah (Justin Pierre Edmund), son of Henry and Julia, is initially wary but soon comes to trust Dudley completely. Meanwhile, Julia begins spending more and more time with him, finding him personable and much more accessible than her husband is these days, and Henry, who along with Jeremiah is the only character with an inkling of who Dudley really is, has trouble seeing anything angelic in some handsome stranger sweeping his wife off her feet.

The Preacher's Wife is a very sweet movie about a community coming together in a time of crisis and a man adjusting his life to reclaim the joy and enthusiasm that used to drive him. It's about rekindling a relationship and expanding the definition of family. And, of course, it's about being willing to call upon a higher power when life is getting a little out of hand. Like Clarence of It's a Wonderful Life, Dudley is not a theologically correct angel; he's a former human, back to Earth for the first time since his death, and given his exhilaration at his return, it's fairly understandable that he finds himself drawn to Julia, to the point of misusing the powers bestowed upon him (as when he stops every red light in town so Henry will be unable to join them for an ice skating outing). Dudley may be an angel, but he isn't perfect.

He sure is lovable, though, and plenty easy on the eyes. I always tend to enjoy Denzel Washington's performances, and this mostly light-hearted role is one of my favorites. Dudley isn't into grand gestures, which makes it fun to see the subtler ways he affects those around him. I was previously familiar with Vance as Jim in The Adventures of Huck Finn, where I thought he made the perfect faithful counterpart to Elijah Wood's rascally Huck. Initially, he's not quite as likable here, but that changes as we get a sense of the man he used to be and could be again. Houston gives a good performance, though I find her less interesting than her co-stars, partly because the movie often seems more interested in showcasing her singing talent than developing her character. One or two of her big numbers feel entirely superfluous, and my favorite songs are those in which the voices of children are more prominent. Speaking of which, little Edmund is absolutely adorable, and his perspective gives the movie extra heart.

There are points at which The Preacher's Wife seems to borrow heavily from It's a Wonderful Life, but then that is one of a small number of classics that have found their way into dozens of Christmas tales. This has a story all its own to tell, even in comparison with The Bishop's Wife, and it's one that's almost sure to leave you smiling.

A Colbert Christmas Offers Crass Comedy

In my house, we get basic cable, so we haven't seen too much of Stephen Colbert, whose show has been consistently praised as one of the funniest on television. With all the good buzz, when I heard that Colbert would have a Christmas special, I was intrigued, and my curiosity turned to anticipation when I realized that the special would be released on DVD. It took me much longer to get it than I expected, owing to a lengthy wait at Netflix, but I finally got to watch A Colbert Christmas, and I got just about exactly what I expected: 45 minutes of clever but irreverent songs and dialogue exchanges.

A Colbert Christmas finds Colbert trapped in his cabin in the mountains at the very time when he's supposed to be in New York City filming his extravagant Christmas special. While Elvis Costello fills him in by phone on the exciting goings-on there - The Nutcracker! Jonas Brothers! Goats posing as reindeer! - Colbert, dressed in a snazzy red cardigan and looking for all the world like Full House's Danny Tanner, welcomes a series of surprise guests to his cabin, all the while refusing to leave for fear of the bear lurking nearby.

Colbert's special guests include Toby Keith, Willie Nelson, Jon Stewart, John Legend and Feist, along with George Wendt in a Santa suit. It's impossible to forget that this was a television special, since each segment concludes with a cheesy graphic in which a wreath frames a picture of the most recent guest. With the exception of Santa, each of the guests gets either a solo or a duet.

Feist, portraying an angel, has Please Be Patient, the prettiest of these songs, a parody of Angels We Have Heard on High which imagines angels as operators of an extremely backed up phone system. Willie Nelson's Little Dealer Boy, largely inspired by the Little Drummer Boy duet between Bing Crosby and David Bowie, is sweetly melodic as well, but its lyrics, about a fourth wise man offering some suspiciously aromatic vegetation, are bound to raise a few eyebrows.

Of the songs presented, my least favorite is probably Nutmeg, Legend's seductive little number, which is laced with double entendres worthy of Austin Powers, while There Are Much Worse Things to Believe In, Colbert's concluding duet with Costello, borders on being genuinely touching. So does Hanukkah, in which Jon Stewart stops by to ask Colbert if he'd consider celebrating the Jewish holiday since the host fears Christmas has been ruined. Stewart, who doesn't have much of a singing voice, comes off as a bit of a drip and doesn't bring to Hanukkah nearly the same excitement Colbert brings to Christmas. ("COLBERT: Does Hanukkah commemorate events profound and holy? A king who came to save the world? STEWART: No, oil that burned quite slowly.") Nonetheless, it's a fairly sweet and educational exchange.

The most heavily advertised segment is Toby Keith's, in which he declares war on the war on Christmas. On the one hand, Have I Got a Present for You is pretty distasteful, as it seems to portray Christians as bunch of bloodthirsty vigilantes. On the other hand, as a parody of Keith's own The Angry American, my least favorite song that hit the airwaves in response to September 11th, it's just about perfect, so I tend to think of it more as self-parody than anything else when he growls, "Separate church and state, that’s what some lawyer said. I say it’s time we separated him from his head." (For the record, I like the idea put forth by a local radio station that Christians construct visible-from-the-street nativity scenes in our own yards, thus making a peaceful public statement about the reason for the season. And Colbert's suggestion, hidden in one of the boxes in the Countdown to Christmas special feature, of saying "Merry Christmas" to clerks before they can say "Happy Holidays" isn't bad either, so long as you don't replicate the Clint Eastwood stare he brings with it.)

Colbert does have a couple of songs to himself. There's the peppy opening number, Another Christmas Song, which is about as vacuous as Happy Holiday, whose chorus gets me cringing every time I hear it, and Jingle Man, Christmas Boy, a nonsensical Jingle Bells parody of which you only get a snippet in the special itself. For the whole thing, you'll have to check out day 20 on the Countdown to Christmas. That's the only box in the virtual advent calendar whose video clip is more than a minute long; the rest come in at under 30 seconds. The funniest of his solo songs is Cold, Cold Christmas, which is a stand-alone bonus feature in which Colbert, dressed as a cowboy and strumming a guitar, drops an avalanche of snow-related metaphors as he croons a mournful ditty about a bad breakup. (Another fun bonus feature is a crackling Yule log you can leave on the screen for a few minutes if you're inclined to pretend you have a fireplace.)

The special's production values are astonishingly hokey, which appears to have been entirely intentional. The bear threatening Colbert is some guy in a silly-looking bear suit, except in the one scene in which it's a video clip of an actual bear. Every new guest is accompanied by the same short burst of wild applause. Several songs have a headache-inducing parade of video clips behind them; the worst offender is Have I Got a Present for You, which incorporates several obscure old Christmas specials and lots of corny graphics in rapid succession, not to mention the way Keith bounces around the screen, sometimes in a different costume than a moment before. The special also takes the opportunity to spoof It's a Wonderful Life, and there's an eye-rolling running joke involving a sprig of mistletoe.

This is not a special for children, and many adults will find it too irreverent to enjoy. Once is certainly enough for me. However, I have to give props to Adam Schlesinger, who wrote the most excellent songs for That Thing You Do! and Music and Lyrics, and David Javerbaum. They are responsible for all the songs here except the group rendition of What's So Funny 'Bout Peace, Love and Understanding? I'm such a sucker for novelty songs, and these are both well-written and, surprisingly, lacking in profanity, though some of them belong on the naughty list anyway. This is a special that simultaneously mocks and celebrates, though much of the mocking is more about individual personalities (Legend's luck with the ladies, Nelson's history with marijuana) than Christmas in general. Still, in the end, it's hard to tell which wins out, so I'm inclined to caution Christians, and maybe also Jews, who are serious about their faith to tread carefully. Those songs sure are catchy, and they're probably not the sort you want running through your head all week.

William Paul Young Invites Readers to The Shack

The Shack, a novel by William Paul Young, first caught my attention about a month ago when its cover illustration of a battered wooden cabin infused with light against a snowy landscape leaped out at me from a shelf near the front of the bookstore where I work. It was only a few days later when my mom mentioned that she had bought a copy of it for a friend and decided to get one for my dad as well. Then we turned on the radio to tune into the classic rock station playing nonstop Christmas music, and there was Delilah, endorsing the book on her nighttime program as the best work of fiction she'd read all year. It seemed we had stumbled onto a phenomenon.

It's easy to see why this book would have wide enough appeal to sell upwards of three million copies, as announced by the cover on Dad's copy. We are in trying times. People are suffering, and The Shack seeks to offer comfort in the midst of turmoil. The story concerns Mack, a man who has effectively shut down since the abduction and presumed murder of his six-year-old daughter Missy during a family camping trip. Though he dislikes the way his despair has driven a wedge between him and his wife, Nan, and his four other children, particularly the moody Kate, he can't seem to find a way to escape from underneath what he terms The Great Sadness.

Then, one day three years after the incident, Mack receives a note from "Papa" inviting him to come to the shack deep in the woods where Missy's bloodstained dress was discovered. Mack, mystified, considers the possibilities that it could be a prank or perhaps a lure into a trap set by Missy's killer. But another option nags away at him, refusing to allow him to dismiss the note entirely. "Papa" is the name Nan uses to refer to God - a name he can't bring himself to use since his experiences with his own father were so unpleasant. Could it be that this is a summons from God Himself? That idea is intriguing enough for Mack to seize upon, so while the rest of his family goes to visit relatives, unaware of his plans, he heads up to the site of his greatest anguish.

What follow are 150 surreal pages in which Mack finds the shack and its surrounding area transformed, icy winter made into flowering summer and dilapidation turned into coziness. More important than the scenery, however, is the company: Papa, God the Father, in the likeness of a buxom African-American woman; Sarayu, the Holy Spirit, manifested as a shimmery Asian woman; and Jesus, the Son, a husky Middle-Eastern carpenter. In long conversations with them, together and apart, Mack begins to welcome God back into his life while releasing the pain that has held him captive for so long.

I closed the book with mixed feelings. My first issue with it is one that my dad pointed out as he was reading. It reminded us both of the episode of M*A*S*H in which Radar, the boyish company clerk, decides to take a correspondence course in writing. The result? A whole lot of purple prose overloaded with adjectives, adverbs and other embellishments. The Shack suffers from excessive floweriness, particularly in its first, less dialogue-heavy half, in which every other sentence seems to contain some sort of metaphor. Take this one from the fifth chapter: "And finally his heart exploded like a flash flood, releasing his pent-up anger and letting it rush down the rocky canyons of his emotions." Too much of that becomes exhausting, not to mention cheesy.

On a related note, the story is bookended with a Foreword and After Words by the narrator, a man named Willie who refers to himself in the third person when he shows up in the tale. I found this an odd move and came up with two reasons Young might have used this device. The first would be to account for the often overwrought writing, as Willie is a folksy sort of guy; perhaps he figured readers would be more willing to accept his writing style if it was packaged as an idiosyncratic aspect of a particular character. (Willie also claims that only close friends refer to the main character as Mack, while the rest call him Allen, his middle name, but I don't think anyone in the entire book calls him Allen. An oversight?) The second reason is that the narrator's name just happens to be Willie, so even though this book is labeled a work of fiction, it seems likely that Young would have considered the possibility that some would read the narrator as him. Perusing www.theshackbook.com, the website dedicated to this book, I learned that this novel was originally written only for his children, and initially the cover read "by Mackenzie Allen Phillips, with William P. Young." "I thought it was clever and that the kids would get a laugh out of it," he writes in his blog. So maybe his intentions were not deceptive. But I can't help but think that as the book got out to the public, the framing device may have been what really drew people in. If not for the slight implication that this was based on a true story, the novel might not have generated as much interest.

Finally, the book presents some ideas about God that are pretty unorthodox. Each chapter lays out a number of points that are worth debating, and certain issues will touch different nerves depending on your beliefs and religious background. If Young truly never meant for The Shack to have a wider audience than his immediate family, perhaps the question of intended audience is irrelevant, but I can't decide if the book is aimed more at Christians or non-Christians. It seems to encourage those who don't believe in God to embrace Him while urging Christians to re-examine some of their beliefs about His nature. More than anything, the book is a conversation starter; if it can speak to both ends of the spectrum, then that's probably a good thing. From a Christian perspective - Lutheran, to be exact - my biggest theological issues are with the dismissive treatment of the Bible and of institutional religion. I'm a bit puzzled by one exchange between Mack and Jesus in which Jesus expresses His deep desire for all people to be in a relationship with Him - but He doesn't give two hoots whether a person is a Christian. It seems to me that the sort of deep-seated belief in Christ that Young is talking about is what defines Christianity. Why the insistence on stripping away the label? Also, while I like the book's emphasis on grace, I think it may go too far in one direction, almost suggesting that since we can't live up to God's standards, we shouldn't even try. At one point, Papa says, "Honey, I've never placed an expectation on you or anyone else" and goes on to say that "because I have no expectations, you never disappoint me." I can't buy that.

That isn't to say that The Shack does not have value. It reads like a book that was self-published, so I wasn't surprised by its publication history, and if you think of it primarily as one man's way of helping his family work through a terrible tragedy (the accidental death of his five-year-old niece), it becomes clear that Young is as much a seeker as one attempting to instruct, despite the rather pretentious segment in the back on The Missy Project, which encourages readers to spread the word about the book to others. Personally, I wasn't particularly bothered by the physical portrayal of God. I figure He can appear in any form He chooses - and it's worth noting that over the course of the weekend, Papa also appears as a Hispanic woman and a Caucasian man. The abundance of feminine personas is related to Mack's own daddy issues and isn't meant to imply that God's ultimate essence is a big black woman. It's more like Joan of Arcadia, in which God appears to the teenage Joan in dozens of different guises, depending on the purpose of the conversation. I found it effective there, and I think it works well here too. I also find most of the quotes that begin each chapter to be appropriate and thought-provoking.

The Shack's main emphasis is that God is love, and that's an important message to get across. While some of the things Papa, Sarayu and Jesus say raise eyebrows, either because of the theological content or the manner in which they are said, I can find nothing objectionable in the multiple repetitions of their love for Mack and for so many others in the world. I like the focus on forgiveness and on a personal relationship with God - though I echo Mack in struggling to feel that sense of closeness sometimes, which is why scenes of sitting on the porch with Papa or receiving a bear hug from Jesus are so appealing.

Ultimately, I think The Shack falls short of expectations generated by enthusiastic endorsements by the likes of Delilah, Michael W. Smith and Eugene Peterson, who calls it the next Pilgrim's Progress. However, it's an engaging read, and it's the sort of book that gets readers to ask important questions. I think it would make an excellent subject of a book club or Bible study. As a theological treatise, The Shack shouldn't stand alone, but it might be just the catalyst for which some hurting souls have been waiting.

Unsettling Doubt Encourages Self-Examination

During my family's Christmas travels, we watched Mamma Mia!, which stars Meryl Streep as the free-spirited but world-weary mother of a young bride-to-be. With that singing, dancing, emotional Streep fresh in our minds, it was jarring to observe her in Doubt, the film version of the acclaimed play adapted and directed by playwright John Patrick Shanley. In this unsettling movie, she portrays Sister Aloysius, the principal of a Catholic grade school in 1964. From our first glimpse of her, dressed in a restrictive habit recalling the Puritans and peering severely down at unruly students through small spectacles, she seems the perfect picture of the stereotypical oppressive elementary school nun. The pupils in her charge fear her, straightening up and ceasing their chatter at the sight of her. She is a force to be reckoned with.

While Streep makes the most striking figure in the film, equally important are Amy Adams as innocent, altruistic Sister James, who seems to be at least a generation younger than any of the church's other sisters, and Philip Seymour Hoffman as Father Flynn, an eloquent, charismatic preacher who may or may not be guilty of inappropriate contact with a vulnerable youngster. The boy in question is Donald (Joseph Foster), the school's first African-American student. He is shy and lonely, and Father Flynn appears to serve as his protector and confidante, a stabilizing force in a tumultuous environment. But when Sister James witnesses something that sets off alarms in her mind, Sister Aloysius seizes upon it and becomes determined to bring down this man who she fervently believes is a threat to her students' well-being.

Doubt is expertly written in such a way that audience members can legitimately draw one of two opposing conclusions. Perhaps Father Flynn is an innocent man whose hands-on approach and progressive ideas are distasteful to the conservative Sister Aloysius. While it's clear that she truly believes he is guilty, one wonders to what extent that opinion is formed by her own prejudices. On the other hand, he might be a pedophile with a history of victimizing children, making the principal's efforts laudable. Certainly there is evidence to suggest that this is a possibility, but the movie does not offer a definitive answer. Ultimately, whether you walk away from the film thinking he's guilty or innocent (or, like me, are equally torn between the two), it says as much about your personality and opinions as it does about the movie.

Each of the three leads does exceptional work. My favorite of the characters, and probably the one with whom we are meant to identify most, is wide-eyed, sweet-natured Sister James, who is torn between wanting to believe the best of people and desiring the welfare of her pupils. In her delicate performance, this conflict plays out strikingly. Hoffman plays his character as likable most of the time, having an easy rapport with students, cracking jokes and offering comfort. But as Sister Aloysius pursues his resignation, he grows increasingly agitated, to the point of explosive anger that could as easily be the result of frustration at false accusations as fear that a dark secret will be exposed. Streep's stern sister remains calm and cool in most scenes, but when her vulnerabilities seep through her steely demeanor, they threaten to unhinge her, particularly in her searing final lines. Her Puritanical garb accentuates the impression that she is on a witch hunt of sorts. Also compelling is Viola Davis as Donald's protective mother, who shares a powerful scene with Sister Aloysius midway through the movie.

The movie takes place at Christmastime, so the contrast between the warmth of joyful celebration within the church walls and the barren chill outside reflects the film's central struggle. Cinematographer Roger Deakins, who so hauntingly captured the bleak landscape of No Country For Old Men, is especially effective in showcasing windblown objects such as the once-vibrant leaves that echo the conflicted Sister James' loss of naivety. He makes frequent use of odd camera angles, giving us many close-ups and often tilting the camera so that the world we are watching feels topsy-turvy. It's a disorienting but very effective technique.

Doubt is not without its moments of levity, and the "thematic material" for which it is rated PG-13 is never addressed in any coarse detail. There's almost no objectionable language, and the presence of children in many of the scenes might be enough to sustain the interest of some youngsters. Still, this is definitely a film aimed primarily at adults, and it seeks to explore the nature of truth and the power of accusation. In its acknowledgment of uncertainty as an element of the human condition which it may not be possible or even healthy to deny, it encourages thoughtful self-examination and a possible admission that we, in the troubled words of one character, "have such doubts."

101 Dalmatians Meets Air Bud in Air Buddies

A few months ago, I watched Snow Buddies, the most recent in a series of films that started with Air Bud. While that first movie and its immediate sequels are about an unusually athletic golden retriever, the focus shifts to his pups in Air Buddies. Although the original dog remains involved, this might almost be called a new series. Though Snow Buddies stands fairly well on its own, Air Buddies, which I saw the other day, is the movie that establishes the personalities of the pups, so if you're inclined to watch the Buddies film, it's probably best to start with this one.

Air Buddies introduces viewers to Buddy (Tom Everett Scott) and Molly's (Molly Shannon) brood, which includes spunky Rosebud (Abigail Breslin), messy Mudbud (Spencer Fox), gluttonous Budderball (Josh Flitter), athletic B-Dawg (Skyler Gisondo) and meditative Bud-dha (Dominic Scott Kay). As the movie begins, the five rowdy pups are causing big headaches for their owners and especially their long-suffering nanny. It's time to break the pups up, and so begins an extensive process to find perfect new owner for each of the puppies. Though young Noah (Slade Pearce) is reluctant to let the puppies go, his dad (Richard Karn) is sure the time is right. The pups have similar reservations, however, and when the list is completed, they decide to run away rather than be split up.

In the process of running away, they meet up with a pair of goony thieves sent to kidnap Buddy. So it is that they inadvertently lead their parents right into the thugs' trap, leading to a story that in many ways mirrors 101 Dalmatians, with the pups in pursuit of the parents instead of the other way around. (The debt this movie owes to that animated classic is acknowledged in a scene at a drive-thru theater in which 101 Dalmatians is playing.) The stakes are lower in this case, since the would-be possessor of Buddy wants him to amuse his son, not to turn him into a fur coat. The only moderately frightening villain is the thieves' boss, Selkirk Tander (Holmes Osborne), who threatens to feed his lackeys to his tiger if they fail in their mission, but that never feels like a very real possibility. Denning (Paul Rae) and Grim (Trevor Wright) are every bit as ridiculous as Horace and Jasper, though they lack those great English accents. Rest assured, though, they take more than their fair share of pratfalls as they struggle to carry out their task.

Director Robert Vince shares writing credits with Anna McRoberts and Phil Hanley, and none of them have too much to brag about, since most of the dialogue, especially that delivered by the puppies, is pretty groan-worthy. All of the pups seem like they're trying too hard to sound hip, which results in some of what they have to say sounding dated after just a couple of years. Denning and Grim, meanwhile, are hopelessly dim, though this does make for a lot of laughs as long as you don't dwell on their inordinate foolishness.

Interestingly, my favorite characters in Snow Buddies were the sheriff and his canine deputy, and that's the case here as well, though they are different characters. In this case, they're played by Patrick Cranshaw and Don Knotts, both of whom capped long careers with this film. Knotts voices a bloodhound named Sniffer, who has a more active role in tracking down the pups' parents than his boss does. While both are comical characters, they also bring a sense of wisdom and integrity to the movie. I also enjoyed the always-amusing Wallace Shawn in his voice role as a take-charge billy goat who helps the pups, and Michael Clarke Duncan is appropriately imposing as a mentorly wolf who guides them in the last stage of their journey.

Air Buddies is not a great movie by any stretch. It's derivative, corny and filled with juvenile references to bodily functions. But kids who can't get enough of movies about puppies will probably enjoy it, and long-time fans of Knotts or Cranshaw may be interested in seeing their final roles. It's not up there with 101 Dalmatians, but anyone who likes that movie is likely to get a laugh or two out of this harmless kiddie flick.

One Magic Christmas Isn't As Enchanting as the Title Suggests

One thing I love about December is the abundance of Christmas movies available for viewing. I've had Netflix to help put me in the holiday spirit the last couple of years, but it's always a pretty good bet that flipping through the channels will yield something Christmassy as well. That was what led my brother and me to One Magic Christmas, which we watched at my grandparents' house after the rest of the family had turned in for the night. It aired on the Hallmark channel, so before it even started we figured we had a pretty good idea of what the movie's tone would be. It turned out to be darker than we expected and rather convoluted too. It made for some interesting late-night viewing, but it's not a movie I'll be seeking to slip in with our traditional favorites next year.

One Magic Christmas is a 1985 movie written and directed by Phillip Borsos and starring Mary Steenburgen as Ginny Hanks Grainger, a woman who, due to a recent searing personal loss and an ongoing family economic crisis, doesn't want anything to do with Christmas this year. The whole season just makes her cranky. Her husband Jack (Gary Basaraba), on the other hand, still finds Christmas as enchanting as he did when he was a youngster. He even has a childlike dream for the season: to open a bike shop. Practical Ginny is convinced such a move would lead to the family's financial ruination, however, and it doesn't take their children, Abbie (Elisabeth Harnois) and Cal (Robbie Magwood), long to figure out there's some major tension in the household. The stress of it all presses sweet little Abbie to venture outside in the middle of the night to deliver a last-minute letter to Santa pleading for her mom to catch the spirit of Christmas. It's at this point that she meets Gideon (Harry Dean Stanton), a Christmas angel who promises to help in fulfilling her request.

What follows is a mash-up of It's a Wonderful Life, A Christmas Carol and every special you've ever seen about a favored child being granted a close encounter with Santa. Steenburgen is shrill as the overwrought Ginny; though it's easy to sympathize with her plight, she's not nearly as likable as George Bailey, and her surliness is less entertaining than Scrooge's. Stanton's angel is gentle but awfully morose-looking. I couldn't help thinking of C. S. Lewis's gloomy Puddleglum whenever he turned up. Santa (Jan Rubes) in this film bears more of a resemblance to the traditional St. Nicholas than usual; his home feels cozy and old-fashioned, and he is much skinnier than normal. He speaks with a Czech accent, which is certainly an unusual touch. His role in the movie is small but significant, as he is key to Ginny's eventual transformation.

Harnois is adorable, which works in the movie's favor since Abbie is the one who really moves the plot along, even more than Ginny. I enjoyed her performance for the most part, and Abbie's interaction with her brother provided some fun moments. What I couldn't really get into were the movie's weird plot twists and some of the ideas it presents, like the notion that Santa's workers are not elves but exceptionally good people who have died. The movie starts getting really strange about halfway through, and we eventually learn that the events that unfold are akin to George's experiences toward the end of It's a Wonderful Life, but that's not entirely clear from the get-go, which makes for some rather uncomfortable viewing, especially when two major characters bite the dust. I'm also not that wild about the way so much hinges on a letter that Ginny once wrote to Santa Claus, and a really vacuous letter at that. For all the talk of angels, I don't recall any overt references to God; Santa seems to serve as a stand-in.

One Magic Christmas has a nice message to impart about the importance of family and of retaining a childlike sense of wonder. But the way in which it gets there is a little bizarre for my tastes. I’d skip this one and stick with one of the movies that inspired it.