It's bizarre - for Elmo, it is never about "me" - a point that Clash reiterates when remarking upon the emergence of "Tickle-Me Elmo" and one that I hadn't really ever considered.
My three-year-old loved Elmo; and, I predict, my one-year-old will soon start to hear the siren call of the wily wee red monster. I never really got it before, mostly because I find Elmo to be cloyingly grating to the senses.
But I get why he would appeal to children.
He is them, in many way: gentle, curious, silly, lovable, funny, inquisitive, huggable, and joyful.
But he also provides them, selflessly, the one thing they crave the most: love.
And what a market there is for that commodity in this shabby world we live in.
I honestly don't think Clash cares about the hype or the commercialism behind the Elmo machine. He loves puppetry, loves puppets, and loves entertaining. He is gifted both as a performer and as observer of human nature and human necessity. And that has made him profoundly successful in his chosen career.
But this film is not all happiness and rainbows. Clash's success as a puppeteer has come at the expense of his role as a father and husband; his regret at times in palpable. Also, the audience relives the life and death of Jim Henson, which, while profoundly sad for many, has particular poignancy for me.
He died on my birthday when I was ten or eleven.
Still, the saddest, most-heart-wrenching moments stem from the final gift that Elmo/Clash has given to numerous Make-a-Wish children. The generosity of spirit that makes those visits, that time, possible comes, I feel, primarily from Clash himself. It's a generosity that, despite the commercial juggernaut of the whole shebang, feels entirely altruistic and genuine.
And to be entirely honest...
It made me love Elmo back.
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