Opinion

Anita Robinson: Wordless Christmas tale never fails to move me

The Snowman by Raymond Briggs is a heartwarming tale enjoyed by children and adults alike
The Snowman by Raymond Briggs is a heartwarming tale enjoyed by children and adults alike The Snowman by Raymond Briggs is a heartwarming tale enjoyed by children and adults alike

Though I’m out of teaching half as long as I was in it, I get sentimental at this time of year… remembering.

It’s the last week of school term. The curriculum is suspended. We’re all cutting out Christmas snowflakes to paste on the classroom windows, much to the wrath of the caretaker who’ll have to scrape them off during the holidays. All is glitter and glue – Christmas cards for parents and practising the Nativity play, hoping none of the principal actors come down with anything contagious.

The children are given nice things to do while their teachers tackle the marathon task of clearing, cleaning and storing away the thousand pieces of equipment and accessories deemed necessary to teach reading, writing and sums in a primary school. My Primary Threes, non-uniformed today in their best clothes, have stuffed themselves to capacity with carbohydrate-rich, calorie-laden goodies, washed down with sugar-saturated fizzy drinks. Now, high as kites, they’re boogie-ing about the classroom to raucous pop music. Some of these seven-year-old girls could give Kylie a run for her money. The boys stomp about half-heartedly, looking faintly self-conscious. At noon, two P.7’s trundle in the big television on its high stand and, with much shooshing, we settle down cross-legged on the floor for the treat that’ll calm them down before going home. I hope I might manage to catch up on paperwork while it’s on.

On screen is an animation mercifully free of gimmickry, faithfully mirroring the sensitive illustrations in the original book written by Raymond Briggs, a man who never lost the wonderment of childhood. A simple tale of a boy waking to snow and eagerly building a snowman. At midnight, the snowman comes to life. The boy takes him indoors to the strange human wonders of electric light, an armchair, a mirror, a television set, false teeth in a glass, a hot water tap, an open fire and, fortunately a chest freezer to reverse his melting. Returning the favour, the snowman appropriates a motorbike and takes the boy on a wild ride to the silent, empty edge of nowhere. Then, hand in hand they run and, gathering momentum, soar together into the sky to the bell-like purity of boy soprano Aled Jones’ voice. “We’re walking in the air. We’re swimming in the skies. Nobody down below believes their eyes,” on an aerial journey across the world to the snowman’s friends – a plump and rollicking bunch, fond of dancing. There is warmth and welcome, kindness and joy and, in their midst, a small rotund figure dressed all in red, with a gift of a snowman-patterned scarf for the boy.

I’m thinking as I watch, what a contrast this is to the frenetically fast-paced eye-watering imagery and ear-splitting soundtracks so frequently offered on-screen as children’s entertainment – usually more spectacle than substance, with an apology of a plot. Don’t get me started on Disney’s unforgivably saccharine bowdlerisation of every classic fairytale to the point of unrecognisability – but that’s a hobbyhorse I’ve been flogging for years.

This, however, is a gem, as touchingly meaningful to adults as to children. Here is humour and pathos, empathy and goodwill, wrapped up in an adventure.

All too soon, the return journey must be made. Safely back on terra firma, the snowman resumes his static position in the garden, the boy tiptoes to bed, unable to resist a last look through the window at his friend. Come the morning, he dashes outdoors… to the poignant sight of a shapeless pile of slush. A concerted “Awww!” of dismay goes up from my pupils.

I can’t recall which year I first saw ‘The Snowman’, but I remember my Primary Threes sitting in mesmerised silence throughout. At the end, one turned round and said, “Hi! Look! The teacher’s cryin’!” And so I was. I’ve watched The Snowman every Christmas since, with a box of tissues on standby, never failing to be moved by the wordless tale of the transience of all things. Perfect. Just perfect….