Tag Archives: macy’s thanksgiving day parade

Slice of Turkey

Slice of Turkey: The Joker, 1989

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From the same parade that gave us ALF’s running commentary comes this bizarre artifact. 1989, you may recall, was the year that Tim Burton’s Batman came out. It’s suffered a hit in reputation of late, thanks to the newer, far superior Batman reboots. But if 1989’s Batman doesn’t completely measure up to those high watermarks, it’s still an enjoyable flick. It has requisite Tim Burton dark playfulness and mostly avoids some of his usual crimes, like relying heavily on Johnny Depp. I like Depp and I like Burton. (It’s been a while since he put out something decent, with the possible exception of Sweeney Todd, but I’ll forgive a lot from the man behind Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure and Beetlejuice.). However, if I were teaching them in elementary school, I’d make those two kids sit at different tables for a while.

One of the big reasons for Batman‘s success was Jack Nicholson’s portrayal of The Joker. Now that we also have Heath Ledger’s version, the bite of Jack’s performance is not quite as sharp in comparison, but again, it remains eminently watchable. Wanting to keep pace with the zeitgeist, the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade thought it would be fun to have a Joker “drop in” on the proceedings. The conceit of this segment is that the Clown Prince of Crime has arrived unannounced to ruin the party. Oh Joker, will you ever learn?

But rather than release toxic chemicals or run people over, The Joker just belts out a very Broadway “bad guy” song called “The Joker.” It comes from a 1964 musical called The Roar of the Greaspaint, The Smell of the Crowd, and was introduced by Athony Newley. So…well, just connect the dots, okay? (Truth be told, my own impressions of Mr. Newley are limited mostly to Tom Servo’s impression of him on Mystery Science Theater 3000. “William Holden’s coming overrrrr…”)

Did I expect The Joker to poison parade goers or shock them with a 20,000 watt joy buzzer? Of course not. But I also didn’t expect him to sing a song with an awful lot of slide whistle (any slide whistle is an awful lot, I’d say), while accentuating dopey lyrics by mannerisms that make Tommy Tune look butch, topped off with some corny jokes at the Caped Crusader’s expense. What are the odds Bruce Vilanch was somehow involved with this? I place the over/under at 117%. In fact, I would not bat an eye if you told me this scene was written and scored by Rip Taylor.

But the weirdest part of all might be the end, when we cut to a studio somewhere and a prerecord bit reveals to us that The Joker is actually comedian Fred Travalena and he wishes us all a happy Thanksgiving. As if we were all in a great deal of suspense wondering about the identity of this fake Joker we met almost two minutes ago. I WAS ON THE EDGE OF MY SEAT, NBC. DON’T YOU DRAW REVEALS OUT LIKE THAT!

What is the point, really, of dressing these celebrities in bizarro costumes for no reason if you’re going to say, “Just kidding, folks, this is the real me and I wish you a happy non-Joker holiday” Was Mr. Travalena pulling a diva move and insisting his identity be acknowledged? “Oh no, no way I’m singing this fruity song in white makeup at 8 in the morning when it’s 23 degrees out and go unrecognized. Do you know who you’re dealing with? I’M FRED MOTHERFUCKING TRAVALENA. There better be a hooker in my trailer when I’m done, too.”

Slice of Turkey

Slice of Turkey: ALF, 1989

As I’ve said many times thus far for this series, the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade is almost painfully earnest and free of irony. It doesn’t have a huge amount of self awareness, or any at all, really, because the slightest drop of reflection could bring the whole cloying house of cards tumbling down on itself.

Witness this clip from 1989, wherein sort-of co-host ALF shows off his comedy chops. I loved ALF as a kid, but in that kid way in which I basically loved anything that was on TV and popular. ALF was one of many shows I watched religiously yet haven’t seen in years and could not tell you what happened in a single episode. (See also: Family Ties, The Cosby Show, and virtually every other NBC show of that era.) So I have no idea if the show holds up or has gathered moss.

I do know that I stopped watching it at some point, probably around the time everyone else stopped watching it. Which, oddly enough, coincided roughly with ALF’s appearance at the Thanksgiving Parade. By 1989, ALF’s star was definitely on the wane. Was this NBC’s last-ditch attempt to inject life into a dying franchise? If so, it didn’t help; ALF was canceled the following year, despite having a cliffhanger ending.

ALF’s function during this parade was to stand in a window of a nearby building and make sarcastic comments and corny jokes about the proceedings. If the results are any indication, my decision to stop watching his show was a wise one. But ALF really kicks it into high gear when the Garfield balloon shows up. You see, ALF’s alien race ate cats, and so he sees this as his turn to shine.

The problem is, once you introduce a MST3K-Lite element to these proceedings, they begin to crumble before your eyes. The Thanksgiving Parade demands the cheerful, wide-eyed tunnel vision of Willard Scott and Katie Couric, not the jaundiced, cat-craving gaze of ALF. As a result, the whole thing feels kind of cheap and wrong. Good job, ALF, you RUINED THANKSGIVING.

Bonus ad! This brief McRib ad aired during the original broadcast of this parade. Also, CHAWMP.

Slice of Turkey

Slice of Turkey: Laugh-In, 1993

The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade plays by a set of rules all its own. Not in the sense that they get to do whatever they want (although if they could run over pedestrians with impunity, that might make for a more exciting presentation). I mean more in the sense that they sincerely believe that they must go about their business in a very certain way, or else.

For instance, they seem to labor under the misapprehension that you simply can’t have a celebrity appear. They must sing. But they can’t just sing a song, either. The celebrity must also play some role, even if they’re not appearing in a Broadway show at the time. That role is, almost invariably, from a nursery rhyme or some other kids’ story. Why? That is a very good question.

Case in point: This clip from 1993, which features Laugh-In alums JoAnne Worley and Ruth Buzzi. They were ostensibly appearing in this event as promotion for a Laugh-In Christmas special that would soon air on NBC. So I wonder why, rather than appearing in outfits or as part of a setpiece that was more evocative of the famous swingin’ 60s sketch show, they had to dress in Little Bo Peep outfits and sing a song about meeting their prince(s).

There’s nothing materially wrong with any of this, of course. Both ladies seem to be into it and are definitely not phoning in their performances. It just leaves me wondering why they had to do it. I’m imagining the OCD-addled head of Macy’s Pageantry informing these ladies, “No, you MUST wear these precious shepherd costumes and you MUST sing these songs. You can not appear as yourselves OR THE DEMONS ATTACK. THE DEMONS IN MY HEAD.”