CHRISTMAS! Imagine the word being screamed at full volume, in that deep, guttural Pee-wee Herman voice—not the shrill, child-like variation, but that deranged, distorted, Kermit the Frog-sounding bellow that he summoned for his most manic moments. This sound, like the mating call of a bratty baby in a man’s body, is the first sound that rings in my ears when the holidays come around. And for those of you who bore witness to Christmas at Pee-wee’s Playhouse when it premiered 30 years ago in 1988—or for the younger crowd (like me) who watched it on repeat, year after year, the whole family snuggled up on a warm sectional as the faint hum of a fuzzy old VHS tape sizzled from across the fireplace—this distinct holiday war cry may be as familiar as the sound of icicles scraping against a window pane or your little brother’s voice shaking you awake on the big morning.

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Christmas at Pee-wee’s Playhouse, inarguably the best and most significant holiday variety show of our time (this is not up for debate!) has been a staple of my family’s holiday tradition for my entire life. For many of us children of '80s and '90s, it served not only as an entry point to the zany world of Pee-wee Herman, also as a refreshing alternative to the boring, straight-laced Christmas specials from squares like Andy Williams and The Carpenters.



Christmas at Pee-wee’s Playhouse feels vibrant, punk-rock, queer, and alternative even 30 years after it originally aired.

Who was this spoiled, irresistibly Machiavellian stinker—and, to put it plainly, what is his deal? Originally hailing from a successful run of live shows with The Groundlings in L.A., Paul Reubens had somehow captured the imaginations of alternative Gen X-ers, 1950s nostalgia junkies, talk show hosts, children, weirdos, and—three years prior to the Christmas special—box office-busting audiences across the board with his now-iconic Tim Burton-directed Pee-wee’s Big Adventure. He was at the height of his power in 1988 during Season Three of Pee-wee’s Playhouse when he unveiled his holiday variety episode, and it shows, with a cast of guest stars ranging from Little Richard, Joan Rivers, Frankie Avalon, Charo, Zsa Zsa Gabor, Annette Funicello, Magic Johnson, Oprah Winfrey, and even Grace fucking Jones.

Joyously combining the era's rising stars, campy gay icons, and all-American cultural icons of the 1960s, Christmas at Pee-wee’s Playhouse feels vibrant, punk-rock, queer, and alternative even 30 years after it originally aired on December 21, 1988—a time when many of the progressive notions Reubens was highlighting have become the most important points of discussion for the ever-changing world of entertainment today.

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Playing out almost like a tinsel-covered Merry Melodies cartoon with a powerful jolt of Andy Warhol, Christmas at Pee-wee’s Playhouse may just be Reubens’s most essential work. While fans may rewatch Big Adventure occasionally if it pops up on TV or when it appears on streaming sites, the Christmas special has been—and will be—most certainly rewatched by families all over the country, every single year, like clockwork, right before the presents are laid out beneath the tree on Christmas Eve.

The storyline—if you can even call it that—follows the devious exploits of Herman, who prints a Christmas list for Santa that is so big it stretches across the entire playhouse and nearly blows up Conky, his huffing-and-puffing robot housemate. Greedy and selfish, Pee-wee tramples over many of the lovely townspeople of his mysterious 1950s Boomerville town as they try to share their goodwill and holiday celebrations with him at the Playhouse. Pee-wee soon learns, through a sad realization, that Santa didn’t have enough room in his sleigh for the other kids since Pee-wee demanded so many presents for himself. The moral, of course, is that “Christmas is the time we should be thinking of others.” As in any Christmas tale, Pee-wee learns the true meaning of the holidays, and gives up his presents and volunteers to help Santa distribute the gifts to kids across the world (culminating in a a very hilarious green screen flying sequence in the end credits).

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Even though we may not have any idea what’s going on, or why we’re even doing any of this most of the time, the whimsy and batshit absurdity of Christmas at Pee-wee’s Playhouse just feels like it makes sense—sort of like the holidays themselves. These traditions we hold so dear over this festive period rarely have any real logic behind them (what is figgy pudding, anyway?). As Pee-wee learns, the inexplicable holiday practices of cultures from around the world—such as the Christmas tree, the spinning dreidel of Hanukkah, the Feliz Navidad piñata, or holiday fruitcakes (wherever that baffling custom hails from)–are all merry traditions that bear meaning to the families who honor them. Frothing up to become one wonderful late-'80s bouillabaisse, the tradition of watching Christmas at Pee-wee’s Playhouse is one my family, and surely many families across the country, has sincerely embraced, and will continue to anticipate for decades to come.

Christmas at Pee-wee’s Playhouse can be streamed in all its glory right now on Netflix, though you’ll be missing out on the horny Isotoner commercials and static-ridden ads for Lionel Kiddie City that play on the VHS recording of the show at my childhood home.



Dom Nero Dom Nero is a staff video editor at Esquire, where he also writes about film, comedy, and video games.

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