Thoughts for December: Why Art is for Life, Not just for Christmas
Robin Ravi as Abed and Rhian Liu as Nadia and Seán Ryan in the 2021 production Santa Must Die! Photography by James Vardy
This month, as the end of the year is in sight, we’re sharing some of our favourite works for the season, and having a think about their value beyond Christmas.
Why Beth thinks Perfect is the Enemy of Good… apart from when it comes to ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’
In every rehearsal room I will talk about ‘perfect’ being impossible. Genius is a myth and no one operates at 100%. We should all aim for a solid 70% to make our best work. Because the art you make always requires an imperfect combination of a (hopefully) great team of people (who hopefully care), working within far-from-perfect circumstances, parameters and resources.
My belief is that great art is beautifully frequent, but perfect art is impossible.
But this belief falls to pieces in the face of Frank Capra’s masterpiece It’s a Wonderful Life.
A piece of art so perfect that it's for everyday, not just for Christmas.
I was thinking of explaining some of the key plot of It’s a Wonderful Life for those of you reading who haven’t seen it. But that’s pointless. You absolutely just need to watch it.
Really, stop reading now and watch it.
… but for those of you reading on. This is the heart of why it’s perfect to me.
Some of the very first few lines are:
A man down on Earth needs our help.
Splendid. Is he sick?
No, worse…
He's discouraged.
And from then I’m hooked. We’re off.
And where we’re off to is the heart of the human condition.
Its beauty. Its wonder.
Its grief. Its despair. Its injustice.
And whilst almost every UK theatre puts up a (to be fair) ‘ever timely’ production of A Christmas Carol…
(pause to always shout out Muppets Christmas Carol as the definite and as close to another bit of perfect art for me as is possible)
… It’s a Wonderful Life is the work that really addresses the capitalist toxicity that poisons both Tiny Tim’s life and Scrooge’s soul, HEAD ON:
And can we also talk about the love, the joy, the beauty, the silliness, the swimming pool floor opening under the Charleston competition.
The heart of the human condition beats loudly in every moment.
I fall in love with George every time he offers Mary the moon.
I want to kiss Mrs Davis too when she only needs $17.50.
I rejoice for the Martini family moving into their new home.
I can’t bear to be in the room when Uncle Billy’s at the bank.
And every watch, without fail, I cry when George wants to live again.
And all of that aches with care. Writ large is reverence and empathy for what it means to be a human and a deep understanding of the obstacles of fear and greed that we’re constantly working against.
When so much art this time of year focuses on a magical version of what makes us our best and happiest, what Capra made is a version of magic in showing us that there is no best.
In his world, just as in mine, perfect doesn’t exist.
But, my god, trying does.
Striving does.
Love does.
And so, life does.
And so, actually, maybe I can redeem my belief, that perfect doesn’t exist. And maybe this art is just perfect for me. And something else is perfect for you.
Diverging for a moment, about how the right art can glimpse towards perfection in how it moves you, I read this letter published in The Times in response to the death of seminal playwright Tom Stoppard recently. One audience member of the first production of Stoppard’s Arcadia was a scientific researcher, developing new treatment options for breast cancer. A section of dialogue in Arcadia directly went on to inspire Professor Michael Baum to develop new processes that have undoubtedly saved numerous lives.
Every time I watch It’s a Wonderful Life it reminds me of how precious life is. I don’t doubt that this work has maybe even saved my life. Or at least saved me from my own deepest discouragement. And if I can wish you any gift for this time - and any day - it’s that you know a piece of art that makes you feel like that.
A song that shakes your soul. A painting that stuns you. A book that holds you. Theatre that sees you.
You know what? I bloody know you do.
And isn’t that what makes a wonderful life?
Seán’s Considerations and Conditions for the Ideal Seasonal Playlist
I’m playing silly cop this month, and you won’t get anything as profound and eloquent from me today. When we started looking at this month's provocation, my first thought was to deep dive into just two or three Christmas or Winter-themed songs that aren’t just for the season, but are about celebration, reflection, togetherness and reclamation.
Before realising that you can’t encapsulate an entire genre with such a small sample size…
So I’ve decided to build a themed playlist, based on several questions and considerations. Without further ado, here’s how I recommend building a seasonal playlist which (mostly) works at times other than Christmas Eve:
Is it the best version of the song?
This is really a question about the relationship between the song and the production. Some original songs are, without doubt, the definitive version. There are over 1000 known recordings of Joni Mitchell’s River, and none of them hit like the original.
Obviously this is entirely subjective, but a couple of examples I’ve added to my playlist are Gaz Coombes and Adam Buxton’s droney, Open-D interpretation of I Believe in Father Christmas (complete with synth motif! ) is miles away from the original but so much more warm and sultry, IMHO.
Similarly, as much as I love the nostalgia of Low’s Just Like Christmas, Gabriella Aplin’s cover just hits differently and takes the track somewhere else.
Where is it on the Kitsch-Cool-Continuum?
Obviously, kitsch can be cool, but cool doesn’t have to be kitsch, and sometimes too much kitsch can corrupt the cool.
This is where the kitsch-cool-continuum comes in (…yes, I’ve just made that up).
The kitsch-cool-continuum applies generally to the mood of the whole playlist. For every track like Cher’s DJ Play a Christmas Song, or that Wham! one, we need to be hearing something more alternative, edgy and dark. This is where David Sylvian’s Forbidden Colours or Sugar and the Hi Lows vintage-feeling-but-still-contemporary Snow Angel come in handy.
Is Aretha Franklin on it?
A rule I’ve taken straight out of Bill Nighy’s playlist building process… Yes, yes she is.
Is Michael Bublé on it?
No, no he is not.
Is David Bowie on it?
Yes, of course.
Is there something on it for life, and not just for xmas?
Obviously, a Christmas playlist is going to have some degree of seasonal specificity. And, as much as I love Chris Rea (yes, he’s on the list), there’s no way that you can escape the seasonality of it. However, it’s also important to point out the sentiment behind this and look to apply it every day.
Does it have something for any time of day?
I’ve tried to design this playlist to build using a kind of perfect ratio to take us through from dark, solstice-y afternoons through to around midnight. Aiming for a sectional approach means blending a range of different vibes. My personal opinion is that throughout December, listening to Bert Jansch’s version of In the Bleak Midwinter (how does he even play an acoustic guitar like that!?) should be listened to at precisely 3pm every day.
On the flipside of this, Donny Hathaway’s This Christmas works every day at 9pm..!
Does it have to be about Christmas?
No! Most songs about Christmas are rubbish.
Songs which thematically explore winter, hibernation, restoration, inside-ness, coldness are generally far more interesting. I’ve included Jesca Hoop’s White Winter Hymnal as evidence of this. Similarly, Laura Marling’s Goodbye England (Covered in Snow) works well for this.
Some songs also just sound wintery. You could pick anything from Richard Hawley’s Coles Corner and it would add something different to the playlist. I’ve gone with two songs from this album, the title track and instrumental closer Last Orders.
Does it have something for everyone?
By everyone, we mean everyone. This is why you have to relent and include some seasonal staples. Something from The Muppet’s Christmas Carol (still the definitive version) should also be on it. However, the real playlist building creativity comes when you start exploring the weird corners of music to showcase something almost nobody has heard, see The BBC Radiophonic Workshop’s Christmas Commercial or Beck’s entirely bizarrely arranged Little Drum Machine Boy.
Is it repping your ends?
Whilst Matt Helders singing Last Christmas doesn’t count as it isn’t an officially released recording, I’ve still made sure to include Slow Club’s Christmas TV, and the aforementioned inclusions from Richard Hawley. The Sheffield Christmas Carols also get an honourable mention here.
A big note of festive thanks to all our friends and supporters for all the ways you’ve buoyed us in 2025. Whether you’ve attended an event, a choir session, a workshop, worked with us on something or just read this monthly blog, your kindness and care is what keeps us going and making the art that we care about. We can’t wait to continue talking to you, making for you and sharing our work with you in 2026.
As well as our final recs for this year, if you’re lucky enough to enjoy some culture this festive season, revel in it!… And also think how you can keep up your support for the arts and artists all year… not just at Christmas.
Seán recommends:
A read: With it being annual season, and with that in mind, I’m going to recommend the Private Eye 2025 one.
A listen: The archipelago arts collective ‘Seasonal Playlist’ is going to be dropping on Saturday 20th December… keep an ear out for that!
A watch: The Holdovers passed me by when it came out a couple of years ago, and I only just got round to seeing inn the other day… A thoroughly enjoyable, not particularly twee, Christmas film.
An event: Nothing. Tis the season for closing the door, lighting some candles, and doing very little.
Beth recommends:
A read: I’m currently directing the incredible second year acting students at Leeds Conservatoire in a production of Thornton Wilder’s incredible Our Town (it’s incredible and you should read it, but that’s not my rec…). The play is an other-worldly, beautiful meditation on grief, and so Nick Cave’s Red Hand Files has become essential reading. If you don’t know about this project, where Nick responds to letters about loss from across the world, you’re missing out on something vital for your soul.
A listen: Seán has given it a little shout out already, but I think Sugar and the Hi Low’s Festive Ep Snow Angel is perfect listening for this time of year. Home for the Holiday might even be my favourite Christmas song ever…
A watch: Do I even need to say?
An event: Speaking earlier of the incredible students at Leeds Conservatoire - Actor Training that I’m SO GLAD now exists in my hometown - some of the brill third years (many of whom I had the privilege of working with in their very first weeks) are performing in Jane Eyre. Directed by the legendary Sarah Frankcom (who btw is everything you’d want her to be when you meet her - a font of kindness and knowledge). Brontë. Excellent actors. Frankcom. Say less, just book.