Vintage: Hallmark, 2013
Summary: A father's holiday spirit was crushed by an accident when he was a child. When his son faces a tragedy, a mysterious man instills in him the courage to find the joy he lost.
Cast member prestige: This movie has EVERYTHING.
Harry Connick Jr. Connie Britton. Kris Kristofferson. Lyle Lovett. Willie Nelson playing an ill-defined mystical being that is somehow both angel and Santa.
Action: Meet the Walkers: married couple Michael and Susan (Harry Connick Jr. and Connie Britton) and their ten-year-old son David. The Walkers are in a bit of a pickle: they’re house-hunting in Austin, Texas, as their lease on their rental home is about to be up, and the realtor they hired to show them properties in their price range keeps showing them… properties in their price range. Which is to say, decrepit shacks and “open concept” houses without finished walls or a ceiling. Susan wonders aloud if they might have better luck looking again after they return from their Thanksgiving trip to visit Michael’s family in San Antonio. Michael is gloomy; he does not enjoy the holidays and does not want to visit his family. Susan coos, “I know that Christmas is hard for you.” Why? We don’t yet know.
Flash to Michael at work. He’s a college professor. Classics, maybe? Philosophy? I don’t know, it’s hard to tell, all I know is he’s going off on something about “the Greeks” when a know-it-all in the front row stands up and asks a question about Christmas. As you do. This sends Michael on a rant about Christmas consumerism for some reason and all the students start rolling their eyes like, here goes Professor Walker again on his anti-Christmas grind, and, like, it makes zero sense why this would be a thing, but then a bell rings and class is over and Michael tells the class to thank the know-it-all girl with the Christmas question for causing them to run out of time, resulting in “no homework.” Yes, that is famously how college works.
Back at home, Michael and David shoot baskets in the driveway. “If I make this one,” David tells his dad, “we get to go to San Antonio for Thanksgiving AND Christmas. Grandpa puts up so many Christmas lights you can see them from space.” Michael looks chagrined.
Speaking of Thanksgiving: it’s here! The Walkers pull into a driveway in San Antonio and a cavalcade of family, immediate and extended, runs out to greet them with hugs. Michael greets his father awkwardly. Everyone goes inside to take part in holiday togetherness; they sample jalapeno fruitcake, play intergenerational poker, sing and dance around the piano, zipline down into a pile of raked up leaves. Then the family gathers together in the living room and Grandpa Kris Kristofferson takes up a guitar. He launches into a rendition of “The 12 Days of Christmas,” and family members take turns calling out wacky and whimsical suggestions to insert into the song (“Two purple bugs” instead of “two turtledoves”). Everyone is merry until Grandpa calls out to Michael for a suggestion and he responds like a normal adult, by which I mean he silently stands up and stomps out of the room. Little David looks confused, while Michael’s adult sister just rolls her eyes before resuming singing.
A little later it’s turkey time, and the family gathers around the table for Thanksgiving dinner. Little David, clearly not reading the room, asks Michael in front of everyone a) if they can come back to San Antonio for Christmas, and b) if they can stay for a whole week when they do. Everyone is like yeah, great idea! Predictably, Michael mopes “We’re not coming for Christmas” and resumes chewing. There is collective silence before Grandpa Kris Kristofferson sighs and says, “That’s it, then. Eat up - the turkey’s gonna get cold”
After dinner, little David is sitting forlornly on a swing outside when Michael comes out to impart upon him a tale of Christmas woe: lo, when Michael was a boy, he and his brother begged for and subsequently received ice skates for Christmas. The two boys strapped them on, ran out to the frozen lake, and Michael’s brother fell through a patch of thin ice and drowned. This is the reason why Michael hates Christmas.
Back home in Austin, Michael and Susan receive some bad news: their rental house is for sale, and the new owners want to move in by the end of the year. Michael angrily goes for a bike ride so he can feel his feelings. He’s speeding down the path when suddenly a [checks notes] REINDEER steps in front of him, knocking him to the ground. What I would do: immediately go live on Facebook and show the world this goddamn urban reindeer. What Michael does: calmly stands up and walks his bike home.
Michael passes a stately home with a “House for Sale by Owner” sign on the front gate. The gate’s open, so Michael enters and heads up the front walk and this is when we see WILLIE NELSON IN A PORCH ROCKER. Just sitting there, smiling. “Hey, you’re supposed to ride that bicycle,” Willie Nelson yells to Michael.
Michael’s head spins a full 360 degrees as he screams “OMG WILLIE NELSON” and tears at his garments.
JK, he actually glances ruefully at his mangled bike and says “I tried, but you can see how well that worked out.”
Willie Nelson chuckles and says with Willie Nelson wisdom, “Yeah, that’s life for you. But you’re not the first person I’ve seen drag a bike out of those woods.” Yikes.
Michael asks Willie Nelson about the selling price of his house. “That depends,” Willie Nelson says. “You want the tour or not? I’m a busy man.” The two men go inside and tour the home, which is filled with beautiful furniture and custom woodwork (“I did all the work myself,” says Willie Nelson). Michael tells Willie Nelson it’s the most beautiful house he’s ever seen, but he can tell just by looking around that it’s out of his price range. Willie Nelson tells Michael to make him an offer. He also tells Michael to call him “Nick.” Okay, Willie Nelson.
After a few minutes of chatting, Willie Nelson abruptly barks, “Let’s do it! You want to buy this house or not?” Michael protests again that he can’t afford it, but Willie Nelson insists that he’ll take whatever he’s offering. “It’s important that the right family lives here,” he says to the stranger he met literally less than an hour ago. “But there is one condition: the people who live in this neighborhood take a lot of pride in it. You have to keep the lawn mowed, you can’t paint the house pink, you have to maintain community standards.”
Community standards? Michael, it’s a trap! Run away! Keep Austin weird!
Michael doesn’t run away. He agrees. And then he heads home to tell his nice wife that he just bought their first home without consulting her. Their conversation is as follows:
Susan: Where have you been?
Michael: I bought a house.
Susan: DID YOU SIGN A CONTRACT?
Michael: um i tried to call you but i got yer voice mail
Susan is pissed and thinks that they got scammed. Little David, watching this whole thing go down, is all of us when he says “Mom, after you finish killing Dad, can we go look at our house?”
So they drive over, Willie Nelson gives them another tour, and then says “Come back tomorrow and I’ll have the keys waiting for you.” Susan is like, ok, this is all fine now, and they hug it out. The next day when they pull up, the keys are in the door and the house is miraculously empty, except for a shiny piano marked with a note that says “Too big to move. Merry Christmas.”
This entire scenario seeming completely reasonable, Michael and his family move in with their belongings.
Later that day? The next day? The doorbell rings. Michael and Susan open it to find Lyle Lovett and a lovely blond lady, both dressed in bedazzled red westernwear, playing and singing Jingle Bells on their front steps. Because of course. “Welcome to the neighborhood,” says Festive Lyle Lovett. “We’re the Oswalds from just across the street.” He thrusts a box of Christmas lights into Michael’s arms, pronouncing, “These will get you started.” Apparently their street is famous for its elaborate Christmas decorations, and the house that Michael and Susan just purchased is the main attraction every year. Everyone in the neighborhood contributes lights and decorations to help make it spectacular.
I told you it was a trap, Michael.
Perhaps sensing that Michael is less than thrilled about this news, Festive Lyle Lovett offers to come over and help decorate this evening. Michael sends him packing. Back inside, Michael grumbles to his family about how much he hates Christmas decorations, how stupid he thinks they are, etc. Little David pipes up with, “But don’t you want our neighbors to like us?”
Apparently he does not. Over the next few days, a procession of neighbors appears at their doorstep, each more intense than the last. Each one performs some kind of musical Christmas routine, leaves a box of lights and holiday decor, and then bolts. There’s a blues singer singing about Jesus. A lady with an accordion. A folky combo (that IMDB leads me to believe might be a band called “The Trishas”?) performing Deck the Halls in four part harmony. Michael asks one of them, “Is everyone in this neighborhood a musician?” She giggles and says “Welcome to Austin.”
Michael’s sister comes to visit and to collect little David, as Michael has warily given permission for David to spend a few days (“before Christmas, not ON Christmas”) visiting with Grandma and Grandpa in San Antonio.
Everyone in the neighborhood is conspicuously starting to hang and install their Christmas decorations, while Michael’s attic is quickly filling up with all the lights and decorations people have left for him. Susan gently asks her husband to consider putting them up, but he refuses. Then Festive Lyle Lovett comes over with a ladder decorated impractically with greenery and ribbons. “I bet I know why you haven’t hung up your lights,” Festive Lyle Lovett passive aggressively coos. “You must need a ladder!”
Michael assures him that he doesn’t need a ladder, but Festive Lyle Lovett isn’t backing down. Instead, Festive Lyle Lovett delivers this short speech on why Christmas is so important in their community, which I will now present to you, in its entirety, in its purest and most natural form: free-verse poetry.
Everyone is included!
We got a Jewish family,
A Muslim family,
A family from India.
Heck -
They got a Santa with four arms and
Three eyes.
Flash to Michael at work. He’s a college professor. Classics, maybe? Philosophy? I don’t know, it’s hard to tell, all I know is he’s going off on something about “the Greeks” when a know-it-all in the front row stands up and asks a question about Christmas. As you do. This sends Michael on a rant about Christmas consumerism for some reason and all the students start rolling their eyes like, here goes Professor Walker again on his anti-Christmas grind, and, like, it makes zero sense why this would be a thing, but then a bell rings and class is over and Michael tells the class to thank the know-it-all girl with the Christmas question for causing them to run out of time, resulting in “no homework.” Yes, that is famously how college works.
Back at home, Michael and David shoot baskets in the driveway. “If I make this one,” David tells his dad, “we get to go to San Antonio for Thanksgiving AND Christmas. Grandpa puts up so many Christmas lights you can see them from space.” Michael looks chagrined.
Speaking of Thanksgiving: it’s here! The Walkers pull into a driveway in San Antonio and a cavalcade of family, immediate and extended, runs out to greet them with hugs. Michael greets his father awkwardly. Everyone goes inside to take part in holiday togetherness; they sample jalapeno fruitcake, play intergenerational poker, sing and dance around the piano, zipline down into a pile of raked up leaves. Then the family gathers together in the living room and Grandpa Kris Kristofferson takes up a guitar. He launches into a rendition of “The 12 Days of Christmas,” and family members take turns calling out wacky and whimsical suggestions to insert into the song (“Two purple bugs” instead of “two turtledoves”). Everyone is merry until Grandpa calls out to Michael for a suggestion and he responds like a normal adult, by which I mean he silently stands up and stomps out of the room. Little David looks confused, while Michael’s adult sister just rolls her eyes before resuming singing.
A little later it’s turkey time, and the family gathers around the table for Thanksgiving dinner. Little David, clearly not reading the room, asks Michael in front of everyone a) if they can come back to San Antonio for Christmas, and b) if they can stay for a whole week when they do. Everyone is like yeah, great idea! Predictably, Michael mopes “We’re not coming for Christmas” and resumes chewing. There is collective silence before Grandpa Kris Kristofferson sighs and says, “That’s it, then. Eat up - the turkey’s gonna get cold”
After dinner, little David is sitting forlornly on a swing outside when Michael comes out to impart upon him a tale of Christmas woe: lo, when Michael was a boy, he and his brother begged for and subsequently received ice skates for Christmas. The two boys strapped them on, ran out to the frozen lake, and Michael’s brother fell through a patch of thin ice and drowned. This is the reason why Michael hates Christmas.
Back home in Austin, Michael and Susan receive some bad news: their rental house is for sale, and the new owners want to move in by the end of the year. Michael angrily goes for a bike ride so he can feel his feelings. He’s speeding down the path when suddenly a [checks notes] REINDEER steps in front of him, knocking him to the ground. What I would do: immediately go live on Facebook and show the world this goddamn urban reindeer. What Michael does: calmly stands up and walks his bike home.
Michael passes a stately home with a “House for Sale by Owner” sign on the front gate. The gate’s open, so Michael enters and heads up the front walk and this is when we see WILLIE NELSON IN A PORCH ROCKER. Just sitting there, smiling. “Hey, you’re supposed to ride that bicycle,” Willie Nelson yells to Michael.
Michael’s head spins a full 360 degrees as he screams “OMG WILLIE NELSON” and tears at his garments.
JK, he actually glances ruefully at his mangled bike and says “I tried, but you can see how well that worked out.”
Willie Nelson chuckles and says with Willie Nelson wisdom, “Yeah, that’s life for you. But you’re not the first person I’ve seen drag a bike out of those woods.” Yikes.
Michael asks Willie Nelson about the selling price of his house. “That depends,” Willie Nelson says. “You want the tour or not? I’m a busy man.” The two men go inside and tour the home, which is filled with beautiful furniture and custom woodwork (“I did all the work myself,” says Willie Nelson). Michael tells Willie Nelson it’s the most beautiful house he’s ever seen, but he can tell just by looking around that it’s out of his price range. Willie Nelson tells Michael to make him an offer. He also tells Michael to call him “Nick.” Okay, Willie Nelson.
After a few minutes of chatting, Willie Nelson abruptly barks, “Let’s do it! You want to buy this house or not?” Michael protests again that he can’t afford it, but Willie Nelson insists that he’ll take whatever he’s offering. “It’s important that the right family lives here,” he says to the stranger he met literally less than an hour ago. “But there is one condition: the people who live in this neighborhood take a lot of pride in it. You have to keep the lawn mowed, you can’t paint the house pink, you have to maintain community standards.”
Community standards? Michael, it’s a trap! Run away! Keep Austin weird!
Michael doesn’t run away. He agrees. And then he heads home to tell his nice wife that he just bought their first home without consulting her. Their conversation is as follows:
Susan: Where have you been?
Michael: I bought a house.
Susan: DID YOU SIGN A CONTRACT?
Michael: um i tried to call you but i got yer voice mail
Susan is pissed and thinks that they got scammed. Little David, watching this whole thing go down, is all of us when he says “Mom, after you finish killing Dad, can we go look at our house?”
So they drive over, Willie Nelson gives them another tour, and then says “Come back tomorrow and I’ll have the keys waiting for you.” Susan is like, ok, this is all fine now, and they hug it out. The next day when they pull up, the keys are in the door and the house is miraculously empty, except for a shiny piano marked with a note that says “Too big to move. Merry Christmas.”
This entire scenario seeming completely reasonable, Michael and his family move in with their belongings.
Later that day? The next day? The doorbell rings. Michael and Susan open it to find Lyle Lovett and a lovely blond lady, both dressed in bedazzled red westernwear, playing and singing Jingle Bells on their front steps. Because of course. “Welcome to the neighborhood,” says Festive Lyle Lovett. “We’re the Oswalds from just across the street.” He thrusts a box of Christmas lights into Michael’s arms, pronouncing, “These will get you started.” Apparently their street is famous for its elaborate Christmas decorations, and the house that Michael and Susan just purchased is the main attraction every year. Everyone in the neighborhood contributes lights and decorations to help make it spectacular.
I told you it was a trap, Michael.
Perhaps sensing that Michael is less than thrilled about this news, Festive Lyle Lovett offers to come over and help decorate this evening. Michael sends him packing. Back inside, Michael grumbles to his family about how much he hates Christmas decorations, how stupid he thinks they are, etc. Little David pipes up with, “But don’t you want our neighbors to like us?”
Apparently he does not. Over the next few days, a procession of neighbors appears at their doorstep, each more intense than the last. Each one performs some kind of musical Christmas routine, leaves a box of lights and holiday decor, and then bolts. There’s a blues singer singing about Jesus. A lady with an accordion. A folky combo (that IMDB leads me to believe might be a band called “The Trishas”?) performing Deck the Halls in four part harmony. Michael asks one of them, “Is everyone in this neighborhood a musician?” She giggles and says “Welcome to Austin.”
Michael’s sister comes to visit and to collect little David, as Michael has warily given permission for David to spend a few days (“before Christmas, not ON Christmas”) visiting with Grandma and Grandpa in San Antonio.
Everyone in the neighborhood is conspicuously starting to hang and install their Christmas decorations, while Michael’s attic is quickly filling up with all the lights and decorations people have left for him. Susan gently asks her husband to consider putting them up, but he refuses. Then Festive Lyle Lovett comes over with a ladder decorated impractically with greenery and ribbons. “I bet I know why you haven’t hung up your lights,” Festive Lyle Lovett passive aggressively coos. “You must need a ladder!”
Michael assures him that he doesn’t need a ladder, but Festive Lyle Lovett isn’t backing down. Instead, Festive Lyle Lovett delivers this short speech on why Christmas is so important in their community, which I will now present to you, in its entirety, in its purest and most natural form: free-verse poetry.
Everyone is included!
We got a Jewish family,
A Muslim family,
A family from India.
Heck -
They got a Santa with four arms and
Three eyes.
It’ll blow your mind.
Festive Lyle Lovett goes on to point out that the decorations mean a lot to a lot of people. “I don't mean to poke my nose into your business…” he starts. “Then don’t,” Michael grumps, and slams the door on him.
Later that day, Michael emerges from his house to find Christmas chaos levels increasing in the neighborhood. Someone is walking around with a live camel and there is a TV news team with cameras there interviewing homeowners. Michael finds a giant snowman sculpture on his front porch. He takes it up to the attic but it doesn’t fit, so he trashes it by the side of the road.
We cut to little David over at Grandma and Grandpa’s house in San Antonio. David untangles Christmas lights while Grandpa Kris Kristofferson shares Christmas memories from Michael’s childhood with him. Later, Grandma and Grandpa are in the garage, gazing at a mysterious cardboard box. “I think I might take it to Austin when I take David home,” Grandpa says. Little David asks Grandpa if they can delay their drive home for a couple of hours, so that they will be able to see all the Christmas lights illuminated against the night sky. Grandpa is wary, but agrees.
Cut back to Austin, where Michael is ordering “black coffee to go” in a coffeeshop like an asshole instead of getting one of the Christmas-themed lattes the barista tries to upsell him. Michael glances up at a television screen mounted above the counter and sees… himself on the local news, captured heartlessly trashing a snowman sculpture while a reporter sad-faces to the camera about “a real-life Grinch” destroying the neighborhood. Festive Lyle Lovett is interviewed. “We’ll get through this together,” he says.
Michael barely has time to be annoyed, though, before he gets a call from Susan. There’s been an accident. Michael rushes to the hospital. Susan meets him there and tells him that a truck drove over the median and hit Grandpa Kris Kristofferson’s car. David has a concussion but will make a full recovery. Grandpa is still in surgery.
Michael and Susan ask if they can see David. The doctor starts to lead them to David’s room, but before they reach the doorway we get a sneak peak of what’s inside: David, out cold in his hospital bed, with Willie Nelson standing over his bed in the dark singing Silent Night. It’s hospital Best Practice, really.
But Willie Nelson doesn’t stick around to chat; nay, he makes a veritable dash out the door and down the hall just as Michael and Susan approach the room from the opposite direction, none the wiser. Another doctor comes with terrible news: “We did everything we could for your father. He never gained consciousness.” Michael’s mom and sister show up at the hospital. Everyone is heartbroken.
There is a memorial service, and Michael’s mom agrees to come stay with them in Austin for awhile until little David gets back on his feet. A cop comes to the house and drops off “personal belongings” recovered from the accident. It’s the mysterious cardboard box, marked “To Michael. For Christmas. From Pops.”
David comes home from the hospital, lethargic and depressed over his Grandpa’s death. He tells Michael that he blames himself for the accident and wishes he could tell his Grandpa that he’s sorry. “It was all my fault,” he cries. “I wanted to see the houses all lit up for Christmas.” Michael assures him that it was an accident, and then tries to cheer him up by suggesting that they hang their own Christmas lights. David is emphatically opposed. “You were right, Dad. Christmas is stupid.”
It’s nighttime, and Michael sad-walks around his festive neighborhood until he finds an old-fashioned church, lit from within and filled with people. What could be happening inside at this late hour? Just the obvious: Willie Nelson presiding over a full religious service, singing Amazing Grace from the pulpit.
Michael doesn’t stay; in fact, he leaves before the song is even finished. But as he walks away from the church, a truck speeds up beside him on the curb. The truck is driven by Willie Nelson. “You leavin’ already?” Willie Nelson asks out the driver’s side window. Michael does a almost imperceptable double take, the proceeds as if this was all normal. “That’s the most time I’ve spent in church in awhile,” he replies. Willie Nelson asks him to hop in the truck. “I’ll take you to another place of worship.”
Then they go out for barbecue.
Over brisket, Willie Nelson reminds Michael that he promised to uphold community standards. Michael snots about how messed up it is that people “celebrate the birth of Jesus” by hanging up lights. Wilie Nelson lectures Michael on how he can’t change old painful memories, but he can have a say in creating new ones. Then he drives Michael home, says “sorry about the accident,” and Hallmarks that memories are the greatest gifts that parents can pass to their children. Michael is all “the last gift my Dad gave me was a box of Christmas lights.” And Willie Nelson, knower of all things, looks him in the eye and says, “You sure about that? Take another look.”
Michael goes up to the attic, opens the mysterious cardboard box, and finds that it actually contains film canisters marked “Christmas 1978” and a projector. He watches footage of some mixed-age Hallmark extras dressed in the fruits of an intern’s “1970s Christmas pajamas” google search results – I’m sorry, I mean, footage of a Christmas morning from his childhood. Then he walks over to Festive Lyle Lovett’s house, where he finds Festive Lyle Lovett and his friend Kat Edmondson in the living room performing the following song, which is now unironically a part of my Spotify Christmas playlist:
Festive Lyle Lovett goes on to point out that the decorations mean a lot to a lot of people. “I don't mean to poke my nose into your business…” he starts. “Then don’t,” Michael grumps, and slams the door on him.
Later that day, Michael emerges from his house to find Christmas chaos levels increasing in the neighborhood. Someone is walking around with a live camel and there is a TV news team with cameras there interviewing homeowners. Michael finds a giant snowman sculpture on his front porch. He takes it up to the attic but it doesn’t fit, so he trashes it by the side of the road.
We cut to little David over at Grandma and Grandpa’s house in San Antonio. David untangles Christmas lights while Grandpa Kris Kristofferson shares Christmas memories from Michael’s childhood with him. Later, Grandma and Grandpa are in the garage, gazing at a mysterious cardboard box. “I think I might take it to Austin when I take David home,” Grandpa says. Little David asks Grandpa if they can delay their drive home for a couple of hours, so that they will be able to see all the Christmas lights illuminated against the night sky. Grandpa is wary, but agrees.
Cut back to Austin, where Michael is ordering “black coffee to go” in a coffeeshop like an asshole instead of getting one of the Christmas-themed lattes the barista tries to upsell him. Michael glances up at a television screen mounted above the counter and sees… himself on the local news, captured heartlessly trashing a snowman sculpture while a reporter sad-faces to the camera about “a real-life Grinch” destroying the neighborhood. Festive Lyle Lovett is interviewed. “We’ll get through this together,” he says.
Michael barely has time to be annoyed, though, before he gets a call from Susan. There’s been an accident. Michael rushes to the hospital. Susan meets him there and tells him that a truck drove over the median and hit Grandpa Kris Kristofferson’s car. David has a concussion but will make a full recovery. Grandpa is still in surgery.
Michael and Susan ask if they can see David. The doctor starts to lead them to David’s room, but before they reach the doorway we get a sneak peak of what’s inside: David, out cold in his hospital bed, with Willie Nelson standing over his bed in the dark singing Silent Night. It’s hospital Best Practice, really.
But Willie Nelson doesn’t stick around to chat; nay, he makes a veritable dash out the door and down the hall just as Michael and Susan approach the room from the opposite direction, none the wiser. Another doctor comes with terrible news: “We did everything we could for your father. He never gained consciousness.” Michael’s mom and sister show up at the hospital. Everyone is heartbroken.
There is a memorial service, and Michael’s mom agrees to come stay with them in Austin for awhile until little David gets back on his feet. A cop comes to the house and drops off “personal belongings” recovered from the accident. It’s the mysterious cardboard box, marked “To Michael. For Christmas. From Pops.”
David comes home from the hospital, lethargic and depressed over his Grandpa’s death. He tells Michael that he blames himself for the accident and wishes he could tell his Grandpa that he’s sorry. “It was all my fault,” he cries. “I wanted to see the houses all lit up for Christmas.” Michael assures him that it was an accident, and then tries to cheer him up by suggesting that they hang their own Christmas lights. David is emphatically opposed. “You were right, Dad. Christmas is stupid.”
It’s nighttime, and Michael sad-walks around his festive neighborhood until he finds an old-fashioned church, lit from within and filled with people. What could be happening inside at this late hour? Just the obvious: Willie Nelson presiding over a full religious service, singing Amazing Grace from the pulpit.
Michael doesn’t stay; in fact, he leaves before the song is even finished. But as he walks away from the church, a truck speeds up beside him on the curb. The truck is driven by Willie Nelson. “You leavin’ already?” Willie Nelson asks out the driver’s side window. Michael does a almost imperceptable double take, the proceeds as if this was all normal. “That’s the most time I’ve spent in church in awhile,” he replies. Willie Nelson asks him to hop in the truck. “I’ll take you to another place of worship.”
Then they go out for barbecue.
Over brisket, Willie Nelson reminds Michael that he promised to uphold community standards. Michael snots about how messed up it is that people “celebrate the birth of Jesus” by hanging up lights. Wilie Nelson lectures Michael on how he can’t change old painful memories, but he can have a say in creating new ones. Then he drives Michael home, says “sorry about the accident,” and Hallmarks that memories are the greatest gifts that parents can pass to their children. Michael is all “the last gift my Dad gave me was a box of Christmas lights.” And Willie Nelson, knower of all things, looks him in the eye and says, “You sure about that? Take another look.”
Michael goes up to the attic, opens the mysterious cardboard box, and finds that it actually contains film canisters marked “Christmas 1978” and a projector. He watches footage of some mixed-age Hallmark extras dressed in the fruits of an intern’s “1970s Christmas pajamas” google search results – I’m sorry, I mean, footage of a Christmas morning from his childhood. Then he walks over to Festive Lyle Lovett’s house, where he finds Festive Lyle Lovett and his friend Kat Edmondson in the living room performing the following song, which is now unironically a part of my Spotify Christmas playlist:
The literal minute they are done singing, Michael - rather than applauding - says “Hey Griffin, can I borrow a ladder?” I mean, I get it, it’s a callback, but still. Rude.
Christmas decorating ensues, accompanied by a soundtrack of Festive Lyle Lovett strumming and singing. The next morning, Michael wakes up and sees a bunch of people in his yard and on his porch, stringing up lights and putting out decorations. A man with an accordian wanders around. Michael invites David to come out and help him turn on the lights but David refuses. Michael makes a sad face, then speeds away in his car.
Where is Michael going? We’re about to find out, when hours later Susan and David hear a strange noise coming from the roof. They go out to investigate and find three ornamental reindeer have been installed atop their house by Michael – not just any ornamental reindeer, but the very ornamental reindeer his own father used to put out at Christmas when Michael was a boy. Michael tells David: “I was blaming myself for what happened to my brother. I was blaming Christmas. Your Grandpa loved Christmas. So did your Uncle David.” And then he plugs in the Christmas lights. All the neighbors gather around to clap and cheer. Festive Lyle Lovett is especially delighted. Wille Nelson watches quietly from the back, then turns to walk away and we see THERE ARE WINGS ON HIS BACK.
Now it’s Christmas morning. Festive Lyle Lovett is there for some reason and has given David a guitar. Everyone gathers in the living room and sings the 12 Days of Christmas song with whimsical insertions. Festive Lyle Lovett takes the third verse and changes the key - like WTF Lyle – and inserts “three Grinchy friends” and everyone is like “Festive Lyle Lovett, you are HILARIOUS.” Finally they all watch Michael’s old home movies, and we zoom in on the footage, and we see little baby Michael climb up on Santa’s lap, and Santa’s face is Willie Nelson’s face, and it’s all very Jack Torrance at the Overlook Hotel. Merry Christmas, everyone.
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