Green Fur and Ham
Frat-boy humor ruins How the Grinch Stole Christmas
It seemed like a decent idea at the time:
take a great children’s author well-known for his rhyme,
who’s pen name was Seuss but was really named Geisel;
(he’s dead now, so there’d be no fear of reprisal)
and borrow the theme from his holiday classic,
give it sets like Tim Burton’s, big effects like Jurassic…
and a star with a box-office draw truly heinous
(Jim Carrey, that guy who can talk from his ___).
With director Ron Howard, you’d think it a winner.
Surprise – it’s more like what my cat had for dinner.
In this version the Whos are consumerist yuppies
(the best actor is Grinch’s put-upon puppy).
Their faces, I swear, look like overgrown rats.
(Call Orkin…or maybe some Cats in the Hats.)
They’re greedy and shallow and obsessed with shopping –
that is, when they’re not out at parties, wife-swapping.
The Christmas-y setting, once quirky but placid,
resembles some cheap Aspen theme park on acid.
And the Grinch – who’s upbringing is finally revealed –
has a voice like Sean Connery…or W.C. Fields.
We see him in childhood, a mass of green hair
that grows up to say “bitchin’” and “don’t touch me there.”
Outcast as an orphan, he hates every Who.
(This movie made me want to nuke Whoville, too.)
Only Cindy Lou Who believes maybe he’s sweeter,
but she sings a song that made me run from the theater.
Her function is to play a cherub in peril –
at acting, she’s hardly that Streep lady, Meryl.
It’s painfully full of tired, unfunny bits,
such as Grinchy who-nuzzling a busty Who’s…whooters.
The sweetness of Geisel’s Yule fable is missing.
(There’s even a scene with some doggie butt-kissing.)
If you’re a fan of the Original Rapper,
skip The Grinch. The concept went straight down the crapper. D
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