Professor Popinjay's Compendium of Perspicacity

(2003)

You’re probably wondering why I would write a non-review for Elf. Hasn’t everyone seen it and loved it? The answer to that is a unanimous “Yes!”

So this isn’t necessarily a non-review of Elf per sé. Similarly to my non-review of the experience of seeing the Five Nights at Freddy’s movie in a theater jam packed with insanely sugared-up middle-schoolers, this is an account of the thoroughly enjoyable experience of recently seeing Elf again, this time at the illustrious Elsinore Theatre in Salem, Oregon.

When you go to see a newly released film, most patrons have not already seen it and so there is an almost skeptical air about the place. The question of whether or not the piece will delight or bore is palpable as we take our seats. Not so at the rewatch.

When a popular film or even a film with a small cult following is replayed at some art-house theater, generally you can assume the majority of attendees are there because of one reason: they love the film. This excitement fuels itself into an almost frenzy! The officionadoes begin to come out of the woodwork sporting t-shirts, paraphernalia, merchandise, full-on costumes (both purchased and homemade) and the buzz about the impending event grows exponentially with every added patron.

My kids were not initially excited about seeing something they’ve already seen, unaware as they were of the spectacle this event would be. But as they usually don’t want to do anything ever, excepting when it should involve their friends and spending a bucket of gold nuggets, we tend to just force them to come along whether they think they will enjoy themselves or not.

I myself was being encouraged to dress festively, a thing for which I was admittedly not particularly in the mood, but I brought my Star Wars Planet Hoth AT-AT knit sweater nevertheless.

When first we arrived at the majestic Elsinore we were greeted by none other than Buddy the Elf. This full grown adult man in perfectly replicated, film-accurate “Buddy the Elf” costume did a superb high-pitched Will Farrel impression and knew all the lines. His first order of business was to inquire about my un-donned sweater in towe. Next thing I know, everyone in my immediate vicinity (including the person manning the box-office) is chanting “Put it on! Put it on!” Naturally I complied. I had to do something to offset the lack of cheer emanating from the gallery of angst-ridden teens I had brought.

Of course the scouring teens were Buddy’s next focal point. “The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loudly for all to hear.” I informed him the teens were mad because they were on the naughty list to which he responded with shock and awe. I dare say this generated a smile from each of them which they tried in vain to hide.

Before we could get our picture with Buddy however, we found ourselves suddenly inundated with a gaggle of Buddies and Jovies! A veritable troop of theater goers all dressed in respective costumes swarmed the entrance. The official Buddy was ecstatic. Strangely, I felt rather out of place dressed in my very monochromatic Star Wars Holiday sweater. To think, I was afraid of being overly festive. Here I was now surrounded by  Christmas elves. I’d seen pride parades with less color.

The Elsinore is magnificent. The whole lobby looks like a castle complete with tapestries, murals, and stained-glass windows all depicting some Shakespearean character or scene. Carpeted stair cases wrap skyward three, even four stories high leading to two balconies and a tower. Unfortunately for my wanderlust, the highest balcony and tower were cordoned off. Another set of stair cases lead downward into an art deco lounge festooned with old posters advertising a variety of long passed events hosted by this historic venue.

Manning the concessions appeared to be the original hires from the 1926 opening of this theater and you’ve never met a sweeter bunch of elderly people selling sweets. The prices were apparently from 1926 also. I felt almost criminal handing over a ten dollar bill for two large popcorns, two bottles of soda, and four boxes of candy. That would keep the angst at bay. Why do I have to bribe my offspring into having a good time while we’re having a good time? Why!?!

Buddy wasn’t the only Holliday persona to grace the premises. A far less mobile saint of the season sat in a quaint corner sifting through suggestions besought by small seekers struggling for sincerity when he asked if they’d been mostly naughty or mostly nice. My eight year old, who defers not to the merits of this dichotomy of deeds, saw fit to visit this surrogate Santa anyway and barrage him with a volley of skeptical queries.

One such question was “Do you believe in Santa?” To which the man dressed as Santa responded, “Well I have to, don’t I?”

 We got a picture together then informed him he smelled of peppermint and cheese. A very nice man was he.

Upon entering the main floor of the seating area the sight is overwhelming. Grand is an understatement. I have been many times in the much larger Hult Center and I’ve seen films at the McDonald Theater (both in Eugene, Oregon), both beautiful in their own right. But this room was spectacular! Ornate doesn’t begin to describe it and my photograph pales in comparison to the sheer immense effect created by the gothic designs and inward reaching lines drawing your attention to the room’s focal point. On either side of the screen sits a terrifyingly ominous 1,534 piece pipe organ for which I would have gladly forfeited a bucket of gold nuggets to hear.

We joined with others of our extended family and delighted in season’s greetings and updates on our varied lives all the while the excitement of the rapidly gathering crowd became more and more visible. People were laughing and reciting lines, children were bouncing in their seats.

Finally the moment had arrived but not a movie did roll but a figure there was on the stage, tall and green. It was Buddy! The same from before! He led us in a couple of Christmas carols with his guitar. I didn’t know Buddy could play guitar but here he was doing it! And everyone EVERYONE sang along. It was, as they say, a hot crowd.

After bidding us all enjoy his fully factual documentary, he waved goodbye and the film rolled.

Then we watched Elf.

Can you imagine what this crowd did when the time should arise to spread Christmas cheer? That’s right. This whole crowd sang loud for all to hear!

I can almost guarantee this kind of thing didn’t happen at the original release. But this was a group of seasoned Elf veterans and by golly none here would be called the Walter Hobbs of the group. Santa needs all the Christmas magic he can get, consarn it! Anyone who thinks otherwise is a…

Is a cotton-headed ninny-muggins!

I’m sorry. I don’t like to use such foul language but it had to be said. 

The movie ended and everyone cheered. Elderly attendants waited with open bags just outside the doors to collect trash. A strange thing to mention, I know, but stay with me.

We ran around the place and took pictures and I asked one of the nice ladies to please take our picture up on the balcony. Unfortunately I forgot to mention to her that getting my group together for a picture is a bit like herding cats. This resulted in me going to and fro on the upper walkway sheepishly telling the sweet dear lady below to please hold on while I accumulate my gaggle of children. We never did get all of them and finally just let the picture be taken.

I went down and apologized to the lady, explaining our situation. She just laughed and said “Oh that’s fine! It got me out of collecting trash!” So adorable!

We exchanged a few gifts and hugs and parted ways with extended family members, some wanting to go home and others quite famished and craving Love Love’s Teriyaki; a craving we eventually sated but not before visiting the Salem Carousel and walking the nearby Christmas light display. As I watched the youngest of my older three happily ride the carousel while the middle of my older three stood beside me, I couldn’t help but wonder if this might be the last time she would ride this for awhile until her innocent sense of wonder should return again someday.  Right now the burden of identity and what others think of them weighs heavily as they figure out who they want to be. It was a while before I myself threw my cares to the wind and decided to be who I wanted to be. Even still, it sometimes takes a flamboyant man in yellow tights to coax me into being less Walter Hobbs and more Buddy the Elf.

All angst subsided, I could tell my older kiddos had enjoyed themselves even if they’d never admit to it.

Come Christmas Eve at my sister’s house and what should be on tv but, you guessed it, Elf.

They were each of them, glued to the set, happily watching a movie they’d already seen… again.