Christmas Every Day

A Gift-Bringer’s Helper who first appeared in a 1668 German play and was condemned as a manifestation of the devil by the Catholic church in 1680. Knecht Ruprecht is the intimidating figure, dressed like a dark-bearded monk, with a long dark coat of animal skins and a filthy beard that reaches the floor, carrying a switch. He quizzes children as to their behaviour. He is sometimes identified with Belsnickel or Pelznickel (“Nicholas in Furs”) and Ru-Klas (“Rough Nicholas”) indicating that he was originally not just a companion to St Nicholas but a darker version of him.

The English poet Thomas Coleridge visited north Germany in the early nineteenth century and witnessed local Christmas ceremonies. He mentioned that it was the custom in smaller centres of north Germany for presents to be given by Knecht Ruprecht  “in high buskins, a white robe, a mask, and an enormous flax wig…On Christmas-night he goes round to every house, and says that Jesus Christ, his master, sent him hither. The parents and elder children receive him with great pomp and reverence while the little ones are most terribly frightened. He then inquires for the children , and, according to the character which he hears from the parents, he gives them the intended present as if they came out of heaven from Jesus Christ. Or, if they should have been bad children, he gives the parents a rod and, in the name of his master, recommends them to use it frequently. About seven or eight years old the children are let into the secret, and it is curious how faithfully they keep it.”

Under the Nazi regime, the German government tried to replace Santa Claus and St Nicholas with their version of Knecht Ruprecht, pictured above.

Three cities each claim to possess the remains of St Nicholas, Bishop of Bari, and the prototype of Santa Claus. Myra, in Turkey, the site of Nicholas’s home church, asserts that it is the true location of the saint’s tomb, but churches in Venice and Bari in Italy both say that they acquired the real relics in the 11th century.

In 2004 the bones housed in Bari’s cathedral were subjected to a forensic technology that claims to be able to reconstruct an original facial image from skeletal remains. St Nicholas, it now appears, was about 5’ 6” (1.68 metres) in height with a wide chin and brow and, perhaps unsurprisingly in a saint known for his forthright interventions, a broken nose.

A version of the Lord of Misrule in clerical garb, a popular name for the leader of Christmas revels in late medieval Scotland (where he was also known as the Master of Unreason). In 1489 Henry VII of England had an Abbot of Misrule to direct his holiday events. The office was officially banned in England in 1555, but continued into the seventeenth century and only vanished during the reign of the Puritan faction in the 1640s and 1650s.  In France the “Abbot of Misrule” was called L’Abbé de Liesse (jollity). In Cambrai of the late medieval period the festivities during the Twelve Nights were run by “Fools’ Abbots” and “Simpletons’ Bishops” but this practice of riotous good fun and social inversion was ended by the Catholic Reformation.

In the Hall of Fame for Christmas movies, the 1951 version of Scrooge with Alistair Sim in the title role leads all the rest. There can be no argument about that, and if you disagree with me you are worse than Hitler. However, there are a number of contenders for the Number Two spot on the list. One of those who can justly be considered is a 2010 Finnish movie entitled Rare Exports.

I will not spoil the plot for you but I will give you some context that will help you understand this cinematic treat. In the 18th and 19th centuries, Christmas customs in  northern and central Europe contained a number of very scary gift-bringers, such as Berchta the Disemboweller who might just as easily slit your stomach open as give you a present. In Finland there was Joulupukki, or the fierce Yule Goat with some very unpleasant habits. These frightening creatures were gradually replaced by a kindly Santa Claus figure, though they retained their old names. In Rare Exports, young Pietari learns the  grim origins of Joulupukki at the same time that strange doings are afoot on the mountain where the Yule Goat is said to live.

There are genuinely tense moments in this movie so I wouldn’t recommend it for small children but there is humour and love too, and a wonderful ending that will have you laughing out loud.