by Alexandra Molotkow
I’m a horror-movie fan, and I’ve seen some vile stuff – spilled guts, popped-off heads, that sort of thing. But the scene I find hardest to watch in all of cinema comes from The Muppet Christmas Carol. Kermit, bopping around London in his top hat, sings the final, hopeful notes of One More Sleep Till Christmas. A shooting star passes. Then the camera lowers onto a tiny bunny, shivering violently under a pile of newspaper. I feel racked with the need to hug him, and the more I watch, the more gruesome the details appear: the way he sniffles his pink nose, the way he winces, the fact that Kermit could totally have seen him as he walked offscreen.
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