HO, HO, HO!
It’s that special time of year again, kids! The halls of your favorite television homes are festooned with tinsel and mistletoe. Merriment abounds. And you can rest assured that there’ll be a heartfelt lesson to go along with all the fun and festivities.
Top off your glass of eggnog. We’re watching The Donna Reed Show!
The title sequence of The Donna Reed Show proves that Donna Stone (played by the lovely Donna Reed) is an ideal housewife and mother. As the theme plays, Donna quickly dashes down the stairs to answer the ringing telephone. After all, she wouldn't want that noisy racket to disturb or inconvenience the man of the house! He's busy in his adjacent office, attending to his important, manly business. Donna continues to fulfill her duties by passing out homemade lunches to her squeaky-clean children as they trot off to school. And then, most importantly, she gives her hubby a big ol' peck on the cheek and hands him his leather man-bag as he leaves for work.
As the episode officially begins, Donna is furiously decorating her home for Christmas. Her attire immediately suggests that she’s in the midst of some heavy-duty labor. She’s not adorned in the frilly party dress that she normally wears while cooking and cleaning and bussing her kids all over town. Instead, she’s sporting capri pants and a baseball cap. Oh, and she’s wielding an enormous hammer. Boy, Donna sure takes this Christmas business seriously.
Mr. Stone eventually emerges from his office and calmly demands that Donna drop everything and purchase a gift for his head nurse. She obediently agrees and takes copious notes. What a good little wife!
Their conversation is interrupted by the neighborhood paper boy. In return for his prompt and reliable delivery service, Donna gives him a Christmas fruitcake. He immediately looks sullen and displeased.
As I watch the paper boy's grin disintegrate into a frown, I can't help but wonder if this might be the beginning of a lame recurring joke. The only thing more undesirable than a fruitcake is a running gag about fruitcake.
Ding-dong! Someone else is at the door. It’s the neighborhood dry cleaner with a special delivery for the man of the house. (Can you imagine? Regular delivery service for dry cleaning? Mr. Wong down the block can barely locate my clothes, let alone deliver them.) He gives Mary and her hubby a strangely inappropriate holiday gift...a girlie calender that's jam-packed with photos of semi-nude bathing beauties. Nothing says Merry Christmas quite like a visual feast of cleavage, apparently.
Mr. Stone feverishly begins to leaf through the calender while his eyes practically bulge out of their sockets. Apparently, girlie calenders are the perfect gift for the man who has everything.
Oh, and I forgot to mention that Donna gives the dry cleaner a completely undesirable holiday fruitcake in return. Brace yourselves, kids. It's a running gag.
As Mr. Stone continues to eyeball the lovely ladies in his new calendar, Donna slumps down in an exhausted heap. She attempts to have a serious discussion about the immeasurable stress and strain that the holidays are causing her, but Mr. Stone is too entranced by the girls in his calender to really care. After all, boys will be boys! Am I right, ladies?
I can't help but think that if Donna ever wants her husband's undivided attention again, she'll need to slip back into her party dress and her 18-hour, conical bra.
Ding-dong! It’s the mailman! I’ll give you one guess as to which disappointing gift he receives from Donna. Here's a hint: it starts with F and ends in cake. It wasn’t funny the first or second time and it’s even less funny now.
Dear Lord, will this fruitcake gag ever end?
Later that day, a harried Donna is suffering through some serious retail hysteria. Dozens of cackling women are tossing and clutching and clawing up last-minute gifts. I must point out that there isn’t a single man in the entire department store. Men have more important things to take care of…like their libidos.
As if she's not exhausted enough, Donna decides to spread some Christmas cheer to the pathetic, sickly children in her neighborhood hospital. Clearly, Donna has her sight set on sainthood.
I cannot tell a lie. The children in the hospital scene are adorable, but they can't act for SHIT. In fact, I'd categorize each of them as tragically atrocious actors. As they each recite their lines in a tiresome robotic monotone, I can’t help but wonder which kid is the spawn of the director and which is the offspring of the producer. Talent was obviously not at play in this situation, and
Before we continue, dear readers, I want you to take a good long look at this little pumpkin-eater:
And this one:
And take a gander at this scrappy duo:
Do yourself a favor. Memorize their faces. And if you ever happen to see any of them on cable television late at night, TURN OFF YOUR TV AND RUN! Their collective acting is so abysmal that it makes Pia Zadora seem Oscar-worthy.
With the grace of Mother Teresa, Donna suffers the painful acting gladly, and patiently listens to each of the children as they wax poetic about their grave misfortunes. Donna quickly realizes that Christmas in the hospital is going to be almost as abominable as rock-n-roll or hula-hoops. Something must be done!
Donna embarks on a full-fledged investigation and discovers that Charley the janitor (played by the unmistakable Buster Keaton) is struggling to provide Christmas gifts for the ailing kiddies. (Might I suggest giving each of them a copy of Uta Hagan’s Respect For Acting?) Donna decides to pitch in and launch a full-on Christmas party extravaganza! She even enlists good ol' Charley to play Santa.
Fast forward to a fully festooned hospital room and even more abhorrent acting. Donna instructs each of the feeble children to close their eyes so that Santa, played by Charley, can burst through the door with feverish gusto and surprise them.
Charley passes out gifts to each of the little ankle-biters. The tots instantaneously unwrap their packages and discover dolls and plush toys inside. There isn’t a single acting theory book to be found. Too bad for them. And, more importantly, too bad for us.
In their first selfless act of the episode, Donna’s family arrives with toys for the tots in the hospital. They've opted to surrender their cozy Christmas Eve at home in favor of helping out good ol' Mom. Apparently, they’ve learned a thing or two about the true meaning of Christmas after all. Golly! Isn't that swell?
The cast begins to sing Silent Night. The festive carol eventually transitions into a full-on choral rendition sung by an unseen choir. As the music builds to a climax, the camera suddenly cuts to a close-up of our old pal Charley as Santa:
AHHHHH! HE'S TERRIFYING! It's not just me, is it? Charley is staring at the children in what is supposed to be the emotional apex of the episode. Yet there's something about the glassy look in Charley's dark, sunken eyes that makes me want to call the police or maybe even Stone Phillips and his “To Catch A Predator” team. Pronto.
The camera abruptly cuts away from Charley to an unsettling shot of Mr. Stone and his faithful wife gazing back at him:
AHHHHH! Still scary, right? Donna looks as angelic as always, but Mr. Stone's steely eyes seem to be cutting straight through Charley's soul. What's going on here? When did this festive sitcom turn into a chilling Hitchcock thriller?
Donna smiles politely. A miniature Christmas tree twirls. The music continues to swell. And that, my friends, is the end of the episode. I don’t know about you, but I’ll probably be going to bed with visions of upsetting Santa eyes dancing in my head.
That’s a wrap!
