It almost didn't happen. Honestly, if you look at the budget and the pushback from sponsors back in the mid-sixties, the How the Grinch Stole Christmas 1966 special should have been a footnote in animation history. Instead, it became a juggernaut. It’s the kind of thing where you know every frame, every sneer on the Grinch's face, and every note of that deep, gravelly singing voice. But there's a lot of weirdness behind the scenes that most people just kind of gloss over while they’re eating holiday leftovers.
Chuck Jones. That’s the name you need to remember. He’s the guy who gave us Bugs Bunny and Wile E. Coyote, and he was the one who convinced Theodor Geisel—better known as Dr. Seuss—to let him turn the book into a cartoon. Geisel was famously prickly about his work being adapted. He’d had a rough time with Hollywood before. But Jones was a genius. He saw something in the Grinch that wasn't just a grumpy hermit. He saw a character with enough elastic potential to carry a full half-hour of television, even though the book itself takes about six minutes to read out loud.
Why the How the Grinch Stole Christmas 1966 animation looks so different from the book
The book is black and white. Well, mostly. It’s black, white, and red. If they had stuck to the original Dr. Seuss color palette, the Grinch wouldn't be green. Think about that for a second. The most famous "green" character in holiday history was actually kind of a colorless void in the original 1957 sketches. It was Chuck Jones who decided he should be that sickly, bile-colored green. Why? Legend has it Jones was inspired by a series of ugly rental cars he’d been driving at the time.
The animation itself was incredibly expensive for 1966. We’re talking a budget of around $315,000, which was astronomical for a 26-minute cartoon at the time. To put that in perspective, it was roughly four times the cost of an average half-hour of animation back then. You can see where the money went, though. The way the Grinch’s face moves—the subtle shifts in his eyes and the way his brow furrows—is classic Chuck Jones. It’s basically "What if Wile E. Coyote finally caught the roadrunner and then felt bad about it?"
The transition from page to screen required some padding. You can't just stretch a thin book into a TV special without adding some meat. Jones added the dog, Max, as a sort of silent observer and the audience’s moral compass. Max is arguably the heart of the show. His frantic energy and pathetic attempts to please his master give the special a physical comedy element that the book lacked. Without Max’s reindeer-disguise mishaps, the How the Grinch Stole Christmas 1966 special might have felt a bit too mean-spirited for a December broadcast.
The voice that everyone gets wrong
If you ask a random person who sang "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch," they’ll probably say Boris Karloff. They’d be wrong.
Boris Karloff narrated the special and voiced the Grinch. He did a spectacular job. His voice is iconic—warm yet sinister, like a cup of cocoa with a drop of poison in it. But Karloff couldn't sing. At least, not like that. The actual singer was a man named Thurl Ravenscroft. You might recognize his voice from somewhere else; he was the voice of Tony the Tiger for decades ("They're Gr-r-reat!"). Because Ravenscroft wasn't credited in the closing titles, everyone just assumed it was Karloff. Dr. Seuss actually felt so bad about the mix-up that he personally called Ravenscroft to apologize and then sent letters to newspaper columnists across the country to make sure the singer got his due.
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Then you have June Foray. She voiced Cindy Lou Who. She was the queen of voice acting—Rocky the Flying Squirrel, Natasha Fatale, you name it. She only had a few lines, but she grounded the whole thing. The contrast between her tiny, innocent "Santie Claus, why?" and Karloff’s booming narration is the emotional pivot point of the whole story.
Selling the Grinch to a 1960s audience
Finding a sponsor was a nightmare. CBS eventually got Foundation for Commercial Banks to put up the money. It seems weird now, but banks were trying to look "friendly" and "community-oriented" in the sixties, and a story about a guy finding the true meaning of Christmas fit their brand perfectly.
The special premiered on December 18, 1966. It was a massive hit. Critics loved it. Variety called it "a holiday classic in the making." It’s rare for critics to be that right that fast. Usually, these things take years to settle into the culture, like It’s a Wonderful Life, which actually flopped at the box office. But the Grinch? He was an immediate superstar.
The music was another huge factor. Albert Hague wrote the music, and Dr. Seuss himself wrote the lyrics. If you look at the lyrics to "Welcome Christmas," they’re basically nonsense. "Fahoo Fores, Dahoo Dores." It sounds like Latin, but it's pure Seussian gibberish. Yet, it feels ancient and liturgical. It gives the Whos of Whoville a sense of culture and history that makes their forgiveness of the Grinch feel earned rather than just a plot point.
Technical hurdles and the "Seuss-ish" look
Translating Seuss’s art style to animation is a nightmare for artists. Seuss didn't like straight lines. Everything in his world is curved, slumped, or tilted. In traditional cel animation, that’s hard to maintain. You have to keep the characters "on model," meaning they have to look the same in every frame.
Jones insisted on a high frame rate for the Grinch’s movements. This is why the Grinch feels so "slithery." When he’s slinking around the Whos' houses, his body flows like liquid. It’s a masterclass in squash and stretch—the two primary principles of animation. If they had cheaped out on the number of drawings, the Grinch would have felt stiff. Instead, he feels predatory.
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- The special uses roughly 25,000 drawings.
- The color of the Grinch's eyes changes from red to blue when he has his change of heart.
- It took over a year to produce less than 30 minutes of footage.
There’s a specific shot where the Grinch is stuffing the Christmas tree up the chimney, and he looks directly at the camera with this absolutely terrifying, toothy grin. That wasn't in the book. That was Jones leaning into the "villain" trope. It’s those little departures from the source material that made the How the Grinch Stole Christmas 1966 version the definitive one. Every remake since—whether it’s the Jim Carrey live-action version or the Illumination CGI one—is constantly looking back at 1966 for guidance.
The Grinch's heart and the physics of the sled
Let's talk about the climax on Mount Crumpit. The physics of that sled are incredible. It’s loaded with every "Who-pudding" and "rare Who-roast-beast" in the village. The sled is teetering on the edge of a precipice, and the Grinch is holding it back by a thread.
The moment his heart grows three sizes isn't just a metaphor in the cartoon; you actually see the X-ray of his chest. The heart bangs against the ribs and then breaks the frame. It’s a bit on the nose, sure, but for a kid watching in 1966, it was a profound visual of internal change. It wasn't just that he decided to be nice; he was physically transformed by the sound of the Whos singing.
People often forget that the Grinch’s motivation wasn't just "hating Christmas." He hated the noise. He hated the "Noise! Noise! Noise!" He was a guy with sensory overload issues who just wanted some peace and quiet. The fact that he learns to appreciate the noise—as long as it’s joyful noise—is a pretty sophisticated arc for a "children's" cartoon.
Why it still beats the modern remakes
Honestly, the modern versions try too much. They try to give the Grinch a backstory. They explain why he’s mean (he was an orphan, he was bullied, whatever). The 1966 special doesn't care why. "No one quite knows the reason," the narrator says. Maybe his shoes were too tight. Maybe his head wasn't screwed on right. But the most likely reason was that his heart was two sizes too small.
That’s it. That’s all the logic we need. By not over-explaining the villain, the 1966 version keeps the focus on the redemption. When you give a villain a tragic backstory, you're making excuses for them. When you just say their heart is too small, you're saying they have a fundamental flaw they need to fix. It makes the ending more powerful because he's choosing to be better despite his nature, not because he resolved some childhood trauma.
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Also, the 1966 version is short. It’s lean. There is no filler. No unnecessary side quests or romantic subplots. It’s a straight shot from "I hate this" to "I love this," punctuated by some of the best vocal performances in the history of the medium.
How to watch it properly today
If you’re going to revisit How the Grinch Stole Christmas 1966, try to find a high-definition remaster. The original film grain is beautiful, but the colors in the newer 4K scans really pop. You can see the brushstrokes on the background paintings. Those backgrounds are art pieces in their own right—vast, lonely mountainscapes that make Whoville look like a tiny, vulnerable jewel at the bottom of a cold world.
- Check the credits for Thurl Ravenscroft's name; modern versions sometimes add it in a "special thanks" or updated scroll.
- Look at the Grinch's "sewing machine" scene where he makes the Santa outfit. The mechanical logic is classic Chuck Jones / Looney Tunes style.
- Pay attention to the sound design. The "clink" of the ornaments and the "whoosh" of the wind add a layer of texture that many 60s cartoons lacked.
The special usually airs on NBC or TBS during the holidays, but it's also a staple on streaming services like Peacock. Don't settle for a low-quality YouTube rip. The artistry deserves better than that.
Actionable ways to enjoy the Grinch legacy
If you're a fan of animation or just looking to dive deeper into why this specific 1966 special works, there are a few things you can do to appreciate it beyond just sitting on the couch.
Compare the mediums
Read the book and the 1966 screenplay side-by-side. You’ll notice how much of the dialogue is lifted directly from Seuss's verse. It’s a rare example of a script being almost entirely comprised of the source material's actual text, which is why it feels so "right."
Analyze the music
Listen to the soundtrack without the visuals. Albert Hague's score uses specific instruments to represent the Grinch's mood. The low brass for his schemes and the light strings for the Whos. It’s basic musical storytelling done at the highest level.
Explore Chuck Jones's other work
If you like the "vibe" of the Grinch, watch The Dot and the Line or his Rikki-Tikki-Tavi adaptation. You’ll see the same attention to fluid movement and character expression that made the Grinch so memorable.
Ultimately, the 1966 special survives because it isn't cynical. It acknowledges that there are people who hate the holidays, and it doesn't judge them for it. It just suggests that maybe, if they listened a little closer, they’d find something worth joining in on. It's a simple message, delivered with world-class art and a legendary voice. That's why we're still talking about it sixty years later.