Joe Pera Talks With You is one of the strangest shows of the past two years. Joe Pera plays a fictional version of himself as a man in his mid-30s, but he carries himself with a distinctly grandfatherly manner. He speaks slowly and deliberately, he has a little hump in his posture, and he mostly dodders around and remarks on the mundane parts of his life. Each eleven-minute episode has Joe teach the audience about something that fascinates him, or tell a story, or explore a part of his town. It captures the vibe of visiting an older relative, in a good way; it forces you to slow down, relax, and adjust your perception of the world to appreciate the little things that are often hard to see.
“Joe Pera Reads You the Church Announcements” is the episode that made me fall in love with the show. Joe has just heard “Baba O’Riley” (sometimes mistitled as Teenage Wasteland) by The Who for the first time and can’t contain his excitement over how good it is. “Baba O’Riley” is a fantastic song, but it’s so overplayed that it’s hard to fully appreciate it anymore. But the show plays Joe’s enthusiasm totally straight. As he excitedly introduces his friends and family to a song they’ve heard hundreds of times before, they smile and nod and indulge him. It’s impossible not to get swept up in his love for it, and I found myself hearing it with new ears, getting amped up by a song I’d grown sick of years ago.
This is also the show's only Christmas episode, even though the holiday barely features beyond a few decorations in the background and a mention of how Baba O’Riley helped make the tradition of decorating the tree with Nana “familiar, but new.” It’s small, but it’s a sweet thought, and I appreciate a Christmas story that doesn’t focus on the tradition itself, but just acts as an excuse to gather with loved ones. I realize that’s the moral of a lot of Christmas stories, where some goofy dad focuses on having the best tree or perfect turkey or whatever and forgets that the real meaning of Christmas is his family. But by placing a lot of focus on the traditions of Christmas, those movies still reinforce their importance. The brief and frictionless nature of Joe Pera lets the connection between people take the spotlight in such a way that it's easy to forget this episode is even set at Christmas. And the fact that something as small as Joe finding a new favourite song keeps their Christmas fresh speaks to what tradition has come to mean to me.
As I grew into my late teens and early twenties, I became more and more disillusioned with Christmas (like I imagine a lot of people do). It’s a time in your life where you’re gaining independence from your family, but (likely) you’re not on your own in the world enough to fully appreciate them, and you’re certainly too young to have a family of your own, which leaves the holidays feeling like this weird obligation you should have outgrown. I love shopping for my niece and nephew, but everything else felt like a pointless chore. Then, on a whim, I decided to buy a small Christmas tree for myself. My family’s been using the same fake tree with the same lights and bulbs since before I was born, so when I saw a small fake tree with artificial snow on the branches, the novelty drew me to it immediately. And, amazingly, I loved putting it up. Decorating a tree by yourself, for nobody but yourself, should be depressing, but I had a good time. I found a box of old ornaments from when I was about 5-10 and digging through them and choosing the ones I remembered the most fondly helped me feel connected to my family. I was able to work at my own pace, and make little games for myself as I decided to fit all these ornaments on a tree too small for them. It was familiar, but new, and seeing my cheap, small, shabbily-decorated tree warms my heart a little each time. Just like the enthusiasm I felt for Baba O’Riley hearing it through Joe Pera’s ears, this little tree let me see Christmas through fresh eyes again. And I think this whole experience has changed the way I see Christmas. The traditions are pointless, but that is the point. They're a reason to make sure you gather with loved ones, and might serve to provide a bit of comforting familiarity, but they should only be adhered to as long as they serve that purpose. If bending or breaking them makes the experience memorable, and helps you bond with your family, what else could matter?
“Joe Pera Reads You the Church Announcements” is the episode that made me fall in love with the show. Joe has just heard “Baba O’Riley” (sometimes mistitled as Teenage Wasteland) by The Who for the first time and can’t contain his excitement over how good it is. “Baba O’Riley” is a fantastic song, but it’s so overplayed that it’s hard to fully appreciate it anymore. But the show plays Joe’s enthusiasm totally straight. As he excitedly introduces his friends and family to a song they’ve heard hundreds of times before, they smile and nod and indulge him. It’s impossible not to get swept up in his love for it, and I found myself hearing it with new ears, getting amped up by a song I’d grown sick of years ago.
This is also the show's only Christmas episode, even though the holiday barely features beyond a few decorations in the background and a mention of how Baba O’Riley helped make the tradition of decorating the tree with Nana “familiar, but new.” It’s small, but it’s a sweet thought, and I appreciate a Christmas story that doesn’t focus on the tradition itself, but just acts as an excuse to gather with loved ones. I realize that’s the moral of a lot of Christmas stories, where some goofy dad focuses on having the best tree or perfect turkey or whatever and forgets that the real meaning of Christmas is his family. But by placing a lot of focus on the traditions of Christmas, those movies still reinforce their importance. The brief and frictionless nature of Joe Pera lets the connection between people take the spotlight in such a way that it's easy to forget this episode is even set at Christmas. And the fact that something as small as Joe finding a new favourite song keeps their Christmas fresh speaks to what tradition has come to mean to me.
As I grew into my late teens and early twenties, I became more and more disillusioned with Christmas (like I imagine a lot of people do). It’s a time in your life where you’re gaining independence from your family, but (likely) you’re not on your own in the world enough to fully appreciate them, and you’re certainly too young to have a family of your own, which leaves the holidays feeling like this weird obligation you should have outgrown. I love shopping for my niece and nephew, but everything else felt like a pointless chore. Then, on a whim, I decided to buy a small Christmas tree for myself. My family’s been using the same fake tree with the same lights and bulbs since before I was born, so when I saw a small fake tree with artificial snow on the branches, the novelty drew me to it immediately. And, amazingly, I loved putting it up. Decorating a tree by yourself, for nobody but yourself, should be depressing, but I had a good time. I found a box of old ornaments from when I was about 5-10 and digging through them and choosing the ones I remembered the most fondly helped me feel connected to my family. I was able to work at my own pace, and make little games for myself as I decided to fit all these ornaments on a tree too small for them. It was familiar, but new, and seeing my cheap, small, shabbily-decorated tree warms my heart a little each time. Just like the enthusiasm I felt for Baba O’Riley hearing it through Joe Pera’s ears, this little tree let me see Christmas through fresh eyes again. And I think this whole experience has changed the way I see Christmas. The traditions are pointless, but that is the point. They're a reason to make sure you gather with loved ones, and might serve to provide a bit of comforting familiarity, but they should only be adhered to as long as they serve that purpose. If bending or breaking them makes the experience memorable, and helps you bond with your family, what else could matter?
