Maybe it’s the head cold I’m fighting.
Maybe it’s the seasonal depression.
Maybe it’s the damned world.
Maybe I’m just too tired.
Christmas isn’t happening for me. I’m being selfish and struggling to get out of my own head. I am turning to desperate measures to try to get me out of this rainy-day funk.
Tonight, for example, we watched part one of Hogfather.
This is one of those strange movies that doesn’t work, yet it does. It’s got so much fan service buried in it that people who have read not just Hogfather but most of the Discworld Books will chuckle at all the bits they catch, but if someone doesn’t keep that cyclopedia in their brain, it’s confusing.
The timing of the movie is strange. It all takes place in one night but it also seems like days pass at the same time. Things seem to be out of order. Characters go from being strangers to being family.
And yet I love the mish mash of the whole thing. It’s a love letter to the fans, certainly, and I guess I can accept it as part of the love letter. I can forgive a lot of storytelling sins because the individual bits of it are so damned charming.
When I first watched it I didn’t like Marc Warren’s Teatime but it grew on me over the years. I wasn’t sure about Nicholas Tennant’s Nobby Nobbs but that also has worn me down.
It’s charming, it’s fun, it’s our tradition, and this year it isn’t helping.