What's not festive about Jug Bands?

No folks, I'm not using an antiquated term for brassieres. I'm referring to the 1977 Jim Henson production Emmet Otter's Jug Band Christmas. 

I always overlooked this production because it didn't feature familiar Muppet characters. Apparently, I had to fly across the Pacific and spend six months away from my trusty collection of well-loved Christmas flicks to finally sample this legendary Henson fare. Boy, what we've been missing. God bless Asian pirated DVD shops with obscure collections: a Christmas miracle!

The story begins with narrator Kermit bicycling through dreary December countryside, which could easily be mistaken for Eastern Ontario brush. (The CBC actually takes credit for the endearingly barren wintry set, so the landscape's familiarity isn't surprising.)

Any concern about character unfamiliarity is soon quashed- not only by Kermit, but by extremely recognizable voices- Frank Oz, Jerry Nelson, Dave Goelz.... some of Henson's most gifted puppeteers from the golden era of the Henson craft. If you close your eyes, you might be convinced you were listening to the soundtrack of a warped version of the Muppet Show or Sesame Street itself. The Riverbottom Boys, a local gang of good-for-nothing musical bullies, are led by a rough creature who bears the precise voice of one biscuit-loving blue monster from Sesame Street. (As an aside, this gets me thinking: could a meaner edge to Cookie Monster improve his prospects of SNL hosting? I'm not sure, but personally, I could get used to Cookie the thug. Particularly in light of the dietary emasculation the poor furry guy has suffered at the hands of a crazed public health movement.)

But back to our regularly scheduled puppetry: We are soon introduced to widow Alice and her son Emmet Otter.  They live an impoverished but loving existence along the riverbanks of a small community called Frogtown Hollow, not far from the metropolis of Waterville. Life is hard. Alice does laundry to scrape together a living, and Emmet attempts odd jobs with his departed father's toolkit.

What the Otters lack in money, they make up in melody and humour.  The film's first song is Grama's Bathing Suit: a lively waltz about Alice's mother. A woman of generous proportions, she leaves behind an epic swimming costume when she heads into the great rodent beyond. As she and Emmet row along the river, Alice cheerily sings about the hilarious fortunes of their sartorial inheritance: We made curtains and handkerchiefs and clothing for the poor...from the one bathing suit that your Grama Otter wore! Aside from Grama Otter's bathing suit bequest, the Otters have basically sold all their worldly goods. Except....the tin Washtub. In a bubblegum 70s number, Mother and Son sing thankfully about their fortune as owners of such a wondrous water receptacle, even if it is one of their last remaining possessions.

In a saccharine-sweet variation of the Gift of the Magi story (Which, interestingly, also gets played on by Ernie and Bert in the 1975 album/'78 TV special Christmas Eve on Sesame Street), Alice and Emmet both secretly plan to enter a Christmas Eve Talent Competition to win a 50-dollar prize and buy gifts for each other. Each Otter makes sacrifices to get to the Waterville stage: Alice hawks her husband's toolkit to buy cloth for a costume so that she can sing in the show. Emmet summons the courage to nail a hole in Alice's washtub to make a string bass. He joins his friends in forming the Frogtown Hollow Jubilee Jugband. With lively numbers such as a bluegrassy ode to BARBEQUE!, they are certain they will win the 50 dollars.

When competition night arrives, viewers are treated to a chaotic mass of marionettes jostling around in Guffmanlike grabs at the big prize. What's a rural, muppet-inspired Christmas special without foxes, ferrets, nondescript rodents, and nondescript rodents dressed as horses doing flips in an old-fashioned theatre?

Everything is looking good for Emmet and Alice until Cookie Monster's vocal doppleganger swings onto stage with a lean, mean crew of riparian rockers. THE NIGHTMARE.

Anyone who claims to be a true Muppet fan will quickly dismiss the nightmare as a rougher, meaner, less talented Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem. Needless to say, the crowd of woodland creatures at the talent show is instantly smitten with the band.

I will leave my synopsis here, so as not to spoil the hiiiiighly unpredictable ending.

I command all NTBR observers to make Emmet Otter a part of their Christmas viewing roster- now, and ever year hereafter!