Annabelle's Wish (aka Our Lips Are Sealed)

Annabelle's Wish is a 52-minute animated film from Ralph Edwards Productions that debuted on VHS in October 1997, with a holiday TV airing occurring later that same year on Fox. It was animated by The Baer Animation Company, the production company of former Disney artists Dale and Jane Baer. When you learn that it was distributed by Hallmark Home Entertainment, you might be inclined to dismiss it as a trite syrup-drinking fest, and certainly, the banal opening narration, in which narrator Randy Travis assures us that "Christmas Eve is a night tailor-made for wishes", isn't likely to dispel that trepidation. And yet here I am about to make the case that Annabelle's Wish is an overlooked gem with more depth to it than meets the eye. It's nowhere near as sophisticated, in terms of its animation or execution, as Channel 4's 1982 adaptation of Raymond Briggs' The Snowman, but it does convey a (not dissimilar) message that feels every bit as poignant and sincere. And for as vapidly disposable as its musings on dreams and wishes might seem, they're basically window dressing. Wishes, and the possibility of their being granted by some kind of redemptive seasonal spirit, are not what's actually on this picture's mind. Life, death and everything in between is what's on its mind.  

Annabelle's Wish tells the story of a quixotic calf named Annabelle (voice of Kath Soucie), who arrives at a farm in Twobridge, Tennessee on Christmas Eve, shortly before Santa (Kay E. Kuter) makes his annual visit. The animals always look forward to Santa's appearances, for every year he bestows on them the power of speech; for just one day, they may articulate their innermost thoughts and feelings to one another, on the condition that they do not let a human in on the affair. Annabelle, though, isn't satisfied with a mere yearly day of conversation - her fascination lies with Santa's reindeer and their uncanny knack for flying. Annabelle decides that she wants to be a reindeer, and to fly with Santa's fleet, and is advised by her mother, Star (Jennifer Darling), to take this up with Santa when he returns next year. In the meantime, Annabelle is given as a pet to a boy named Billy, the grandson of farmer Charles Baker (Jerry Van Dyke). Billy's parents were killed some years ago in a fire; Billy survived, but was rendered mute, potentially for life. Since the incident, Billy has resided with Charles, but suddenly finds himself in the middle of a vicious custody battle between Charles and his wealthy, city-dwelling aunt Agnes (Cloris Leachman), who desires a child and insists that she could give Billy a better life. The Bakers are also constantly at loggerheads with a neighbouring farming family, the Holders - their patriarch, Gus (Jim Varney), was formerly on friendly terms with Charles, but was embittered by his own family tragedy (it's never outright stated, but his wife died), while his sons Bucky (Charlie Cronin) and Buster (James Lafferty) make a habit of ganging up on Billy in the knowledge that he cannot answer back. Billy has only two allies, a local girl named Emily (Aria Curzon) who empathises with his inability to express himself, and Annabelle, who quickly becomes his most cherished companion. And when Annabelle inadvertently reveals to Billy just what kind of occult magic goes on in the barn every Christmas, the other animals don't take it so hard, well aware that Billy is unable to articulate what he has witnessed to the rest of his species.

The plot of Annabelle's Wish derives from an actual piece of festive folklore, familiar mainly to European tradition, which asserts that, at the stroke of midnight on 25th December, animals acquire the gift of the gab, although Santa does not typically play a part in the legend. The lore is commonly linked to the animals said to have been present at the birth of Jesus (see an earlier animated Christmas special, ABC's The Night The Animals Talked from 1970), and is presumably a close cousin of the similar superstition suggesting that barnyard animals like to usher in every new Christmas by kneeling in reverence at midnight, a tradition supposedly inherited from their manger-gazing ancestors more than two millennia ago, although the stories of talking Yuletide animals may date back even further than the Christian religion. Whatever the origins, the superstition is a good deal less whimsical than it appears on the surface, or indeed its benign portrayal in Annabelle's Wish. For a human to overhear these garrulous critters was said to be terribly unfortunate, for the animals seldom speak words of comfort and joy. Often they foretell of some pending disaster, typically for the human eavesdropper, or some other unpalatable truth. Writes Mark Liberman: "In these stories, occult knowledge is bad, and research beyond normal bounds creates not only unwelcome knowledge of misfortune, but also misfortune itself."

In Annabelle's Wish, the lore serves quite a different end, for the film has great interest in the power of self-expression and communication. The ability to speak, and to clearly articulate one's needs and desires, equals empowerment. The animals revel in the fact that for one day out of 365, they enjoy the same privileges as man, even if their use of the gift does not typically extend beyond relatively frivolous discussion (the rooster talks like a morning disc jockey, the dog is a would-be gossip hound who can never remember the information he garners, the pig is constantly making insincere resolutions to start dieting, etc). Annabelle is seemingly alone in aspiring to use her ability to alter her destiny, an idea that most of the animals scoff at. Her fanciful ambitions of getting herself off the ground, meanwhile, contrast with the bleakness of Billy's circumstances, for he is denied a privilege that most people take for granted. It's never made explicit whether Billy's muteness is physical (brought on by damage suffered by inhaling smoke from the fire) or psychological (rooted in the trauma of what he witnessed) in nature, although I would presume the latter. Either way, we might ponder why Billy has not been provided with alternate means of expressing himself (eg: learning to sign, or writing) - a valid question in-universe, although one that essentially misses the point of the symbolism of the story. Billy's muteness is effectively a shorthand for his complete inability to determine his own situation. He is at the mercy of whichever way the balance of power tips between his grandfather and his aunt, and powerless in standing his ground against the local bullies. His literal lack of a voice is, in analogical terms, indicative of his general lack of confidence and, in the case of Agnes, his being denied a voice in her refusal to listen to what he wants. Upon witnessing Billy's struggle first-hand, Annabelle aspires to "do the talking for both of us", but is reminded by Star that, for 364 days of the year, she and Billy are even in their inability to speak for themselves. And yet, Annabelle finds a way to make good on her aspiration, although it involves having to put her own career ambitions aside. 

The theme of sacrifice first occurs when Charles pawns his most valued possession, a music box that previously belonged to his deceased daughter, in order to settle a debt with the Holders and prevent them from taking Annabelle as payment. This foreshadows the more pivotal sacrifice that Annabelle later makes on behalf of Billy. When, finally, a full year has elapsed, Santa returns to the barn and Annabelle regains the ability to speak, she has the opportunity to ask him about the possibility of flying. We discover the following morning, however, that Annabelle has actually used the opportunity to put in a very different kind of request. Billy awakens and, seemingly by miracle, regains the power of speech (and the voice of Hari Oziol). And not a moment too soon, as Agnes's lawyer had recently uncovered a loophole that would have granted her custody of Billy for as long as he remained mute. Annabelle's wish has come at a great price, however - when Billy joyously races to the barn to tell her the good news, he finds their situation reversed, with Annabelle now rendered permanently mute. Star explains to Billy that the voice he was granted was Annabelle's own; she wished to surrender her own power of speech to Billy, at the cost that she herself could never use it again. We understand that the magnitude of Annabelle's wish is far greater, however - by giving up her seasonal voice, Annabelle is also forfeiting her only means of ever articulating to Santa her personal desire to fly along with him. We do not sense that Annabelle regrets or resents her decision - over the course of the year, her priorities have changed, and she has learned to put Billy's needs above her own desires.

The ostensible tragedy of Annabelle and Billy's relationship is that, until the very end of the film, they never possess the ability to speak at the same time, and as such, no two-way conversation ever occurs between them. But then we are never encouraged to believe that this in any way hinders their friendship - Billy and Annabelle are at their most purely happy during a montage showcasing their various adventures in the year in between the two pivotal Christmases, when neither character possesses the ability to speak. For while Annabelle's Wish has a lot to say about the value of words and self-expression, it ultimately posits that the most powerful communication manifests in what is never verbalised, but what is intuitively understood between those closest to one another. As the narrator informs us, "Talking just wasn't required for the kind of friendship they had." No, the real tragedy of Annabelle and Billy's relationship is that inherent to any bond between a child and their cherished pet - unless the pet in question is a tortoise, one of them can expect a significantly shorter lifespan than the other. This is something we are reminded of in the film's most mordant joke, when Ears the would-be gossip hound (Jay Johnson) states that as a puppy he dreamed of stardom, "like Lassie or Old Yeller." He then reflects on this, and rectifies, "Maybe not like Old Yeller." Even if you've never seen Disney's classic 1957 boy and his dog picture, you probably know from its reputation that the dog dies at the end; furthermore, it is his young owner's willingness to shoot his beloved dog, who had contracted rabies during a confrontation with an infected wolf, that signifies his first major step toward adulthood. Annabelle's Wish isn't quite so brutal in its depiction of life's comings and goings, but it nevertheless remains consciousness of the prevalence of death in everyday life (both the Bakers and the Holders have had to deal with their own bereavements) and the inevitably of change. As Scarlett the horse (Rue McClanahan) advises Annabelle, when she realises just how brief a window of opportunity the animals get for talking each year, "Nothing lasts forever." Annabelle's Wish is a film about the power of communication, in all its forms, and the personal sacrifices that sometimes need to be made for the greater good. But it is, above all, a story about the beautiful moments that cannot last, and this is where I feel the film particularly excels. On the surface, it is a touching story of an idealistic cow who yearns to be a reindeer and the traumatised boy she befriends, and how each of them ends up compensating for what the other is lacking. But I think it also works as an allegory for the formation of a childhood bond with a beloved pet, a bond that exists entirely without words. Annabelle's Wish is sensitive to the power and importance of such a relationship, and to the non-judgemental comfort and companionship it provides, while staying alert to the eventuality that the child will have to face up to letting go. For all the feel-good sentiments of the film's epilogue, in which we discover what ultimately became of Billy and Annabelle, there is a great sting to the final outcome that that the sweetness of the imagery does not disguise, and Annabelle's Wish is all the better for it.

Before we go any further, the film does have one really obvious weakness, and we might as well get that out of the way right now. It's not the songs, although none of them are amazingly memorable, and while Travis's narration is largely mundane, it serves a purpose that becomes apparent only in the final stages. No, the weakness lies in the character of Agnes, the rather heavy-handed villain of the piece, as it's in her that we get a number of the prejudices endemic to feel-good holiday entertainment - not least, the idea that those who live alone and do not have families are, at best, incomplete and, at worst, present a threat to those who follow a more traditional lifestyle. There was certainly room for Agnes to be a more complex character, and for shades of grey regarding her perspective on the situation, but the film settles for making her into a callously self-indulgent type in the vein of Cruella de Vil, just so there's no risk that we might end up accidentally siding with her. Agnes is an outsider to the family unit who both envies it and aspires to destroy it. She's also from the city, meaning that she brings with her a heap of disdainful opposition toward the modest sincerity of the rural community. Agnes's shortcoming, of course, is that, unlike Annabelle, she is not prepared to put Billy's interests above her own desires, although some of the arguments she puts forward are nevertheless valid. For example, she raises the question as to why Billy is not receiving medical treatment for his condition, suggesting that the local doctor was too quick to give up on the possibility of Billy never speaking again and insisting that, should she obtain custody of Billy, she would get him the best therapy money could buy (of course, the loophole she later uncovers would indicate that it is not within her interests to do so). That being said, the film does end up treating Agnes with a surprising magnanimity, in the very same breath with which it yields redemption for the Holders. Gus, on learning that Charles was forced to pawn his daughter's music box to settle their debt, is ashamed enough to buy the music box back and return it to Charles; while at the Bakers' farm, Agnes and Gus encounter one another and apparently hit it off. She's in desperate want of a family, they're without a mother - turns out there was a common solution to both of their problems all along. A clement ending for all concerned, then, although Billy, our narrator (surprise!), closes this arc off with the snarky observation that, "as usual, Aunt Agnes got what she wanted. And the Holder boys got what they deserved."

So yes, there is a twist at the end in which the narrator is revealed to be the adult Billy, giving us a shot of irony in the revelation that the voice of narrative authority had, all along, belonged to the character who couldn't talk (and an additional irony in that the animals had trusted Billy never to spill the beans on their annual talk-athons, and there he just went and passed it onto the world. Oops). As an adult, Billy now owns the farm and, in one of the more predictably twee aspects of the special, is married to Emily. Annabelle is still alive in the present, but has grown old and frail (it's never flat-out stated, but presumably Star, Ears and the other animals would have all passed on by now) and, as per the conditions of her agreement with Santa, hasn't uttered a word since that fateful Christmas years ago. Nevertheless, Billy has maintained his bond with his childhood friend and continues to talk to her, despite Emily's derision. In the early hours one Christmas morning, Billy awakens to discover that Annabelle has left the barn and disappeared into the snowy landscape; he goes searching for her, and finds that she has fallen. Before he can reach her, however, she is helped up by her old friend Santa, who tells her that he never forgot the sacrifice she made on Billy's behalf. Without her voice, Annabelle remains unable to express her desire to fly to Santa, but he is able to make it happen regardless, on the grounds that, "I know someone who has a wish for you", referring to Billy. Thus, Billy is finally able to repay Annabelle's favour by making a wish on her behalf. Appropriately, though, the wish in question is never actually verbalised - Santa simply responds to what is evident in the bond between Billy and Annabelle and their inclination to always want the best for one another. Annabelle glances into the adjacent lake to discover that she has been rejuvenated, transformed into a reindeer and, on top of everything else, she has regained the ability to speak. Annabelle and Billy make their only two-way verbal exchange of the entire story, in wishing each other a merry Christmas, and the film ends with Annabelle joining Santa's sleigh and flying off into the night sky, as Billy watches from the ground below.

In other words, the perfect death metaphor, no?

Maybe it's because I grew up with The Snowman and other seasonal Raymond Briggs cartoons where sorrowful endings were par for the course. Maybe it's because I find the ending of Annabelle's Wish to be vaguely reminiscent of that of Watership Down, where an elderly Hazel is approached by the ghost of El-ahrairah and invited to come away with him. Or maybe it's simply because my initial viewing of this film happened to coincide with the point in my life where I was growing painfully aware of my cat's mortality, so the image of the geriatric Annabelle stumbling through the snow hit me doubly hard. But I've always taken it as a given that Annabelle's final transformation and her flying away with Santa was indicative of her having passed on...which is not to say that she is hallucinating her closing Santa encounter, just that it functions on an allegorical level. Ostensibly, it's a happy ending, and yet there is something about it that I find profoundly heart-breaking. Whichever way you slice it, Annabelle's initiation into Santa's fleet marks the end of her time as Billy's companion; as was always inevitable, the two of them end up going their separate ways, with Billy still young and having much of his life yet ahead of him, and Annabelle fading away into the distance. It does not seem to me that Santa averts Annabelle's death, but rather that he facilitates it - which, admittedly, is an unconventional outcome because it does, in practice, make Santa the grim reaper of this universe. That Annabelle dies a highly symbolic death is perhaps entirely appropriate, given that she was born by a highly symbolic birth. At the start of the film, Annabelle's birth is depicted not as the ordinarily messy means through which a calf enters the world, but by a stream of sparkles snaking its way into a barn and leaving a calf in its wake - which, not coincidentally, is the same stream of sparkles also emitted by Santa's sleigh. Santa giveth, and he take awayeth. Significantly, when Santa encounters Annabelle for the first time, he adorns her with a large red ribbon, a visual indicator of her status as a gift intended for Billy, and then at the end of the film, when he revisits her in her old age, he makes a point of fastening an identical ribbon around her neck. The ribbon acts as a bookend to Annabelle's life and her relationship with Billy, its reappearance signalling that both have reached their natural conclusion. But at the same time, it also heralds the start of a whole beginning, for Annabelle continues to wear the ribbon in her new reindeer form; it, coupled with her rejuvenation, points to the ongoing cycle of life. The symbolism of the ribbon might clue us in on why Santa has chosen to wait this long before finally fulfilling Billy's wish for Annabelle, even though Billy must have been wanting it for years, for she had a whole other purpose that she first needed to see through to completion. In the literal world of the story, Annabelle's rebirth as a reindeer could be interpreted as constituting an afterlife in of itself - either Annabelle has undergone a form of reincarnation, or her joining Santa's fleet means that she has risen to a higher plane of existence. In allegorical terms, Annabelle's newfound ability to fly is an indicator of the extent to which her legacy will continue to endure in Billy's memory. It is, after all, through Billy's ongoing devotions that she is implied to gain her final powers, so it seems reasonable to suppose that this is representative of the new life she will take on as a less concrete companion to Billy going forward. It marks the end of one stage of their relationship, but the beginning of quite another.

In the end, you can take Annabelle's Wish at face value, if you prefer, and it is a perfectly charming enough experience on those terms. But amid all the Hallmark banalities about Christmas being a night for wishes coming true, I see a far simpler, more authentic story about a boy who regained hope and confidence through his bond with his childhood pet, and continued to value her memory and the tremendous difference she made to his life. Anyone who's ever loved and lost a pet should get the picture.