Day 6. J.T.

1969 was a good time to air a Christmas TV special and expect me to live in ignorance of its existence, because it was 10-years before I was born, and I don't know what my parents would be doing watching CBS children's programming at that time. J.T., I found out, is a beloved memory amongst those who were then alive and aware, as it later slipped into unavailable obsolescence, without the yearly reruns of a Rudolph or a Frosty. 

What's notable about J.T. (the film, not the Timberlake) is that it's an early Holiday-themed vision of poverty that struck a chord with an audience unused to seeing real life reflected instead of the typical seasonal conception that most regular people own mansions in Chicago suburbs. 

I realize I'm cheating a little bit here. J.T. is a TV special, not a theatrical film. But this is a time of year about accepting things that are different, and sometimes that means opening our hearts to television. Yes, I will watch Breaking Bad one of these days. 

J.T. isn't your typical kid who loves Christmas, either. He's a Harlem radio-thieving aspiring-hoodlum. He skips school. His mom thinks he's been transforming into a delinquent ever since his father left. It's interesting how the movie portrays J.T.'s ghetto attitude: after stealing his radio, he dances up the steps to his apartment listening to a '60s jive version of "Jingle Bells." The car from which he pawned the radio had it blaring "Turn Turn Turn" by The Byrds, so I guess that's a step a step in the right direction.

While outside being a badass one day, J.T. finds a stray cat. He begins to treat it as a pet, maxing out his mom's credit card on cans of tuna, building it a shelter, and at one point even sharing a sandwich with it, which seems a little unhygienic to me, but I don't want to sound like a diva. The boy and the cat have some weird psychic connection, as the cat has an eye-injury and J.T. finds his own vision isn't what it used to be and he may need eyeglasses. I wonder if Steven Spielberg and Melissa Matheson studied this thing when they were constructing the boy-linked-with-alien classroom scene in E.T..

As J.T., Kevin Hooks, who would later grow up to direct Wesley Snipes in Passenger 57, convincingly embodies a shy kid troubled by the realization that the adults around him see him as troubled and shy. 

What's noble about the film is that it's upfront and earnest, aiming for the heart. The audience is never allowed to partake in J.T.'s delinquent hedonism, but writer Jane Wagner and director Robert M. Wagner don't cast him outside of sympathy either. Even as J.T. is never beyond understanding, there's a too-safe cowardice in how his thoughts are kept at a distance. J.T.'s journey is almost entirely internalized, while the film doesn't permit him a clear interior. 

The story of a lonely boy whose awakening arrives upon finding another being to love is nevertheless a touching one. It's reigned in by a one-hour television window. It would be nice to get to know the cat better, and the ending is pat and artificial. But it understands Christmas on a humane level, giving it at least the ingredients for something special.    

The Meaning of Christmas

Sometimes all you have in life is a cat. When you don't have that cat, try to remember how it made you feel. That feeling is the meaning of Christmas. And listen to your mom. Stop stealing radios, too. Or you will never come-of-age.

Here's a pic of a random cat from the Internet.

Tomorrow: Rare Exports