Raymond Briggs didn’t actually like Christmas all that much. That’s the first thing you have to understand if you want to get why The Snowman feels so different from the sugary, corporate holiday specials that clog up streaming services today. There’s no Santa. No elves. No moral lesson about being a "good boy" to get toys. It’s just a kid, a pile of snow, and the brutal reality of impermanence.
It’s been over forty years since the film first aired on Channel 4 in the UK. Since then, it’s become a global juggernaut. We see the image of the boy and the snowman flying over the Brighton Pavilion on everything from biscuit tins to expensive crystal ornaments. But beneath the massive merchandising empire lies a short film that is surprisingly quiet, technically daring, and deeply melancholic.
The Snowman and the Art of Saying Nothing
Most people remember the music. "Walking in the Air" is the soul of the movie. But have you noticed there’s not a single word of dialogue?
In an era where kids' movies are loud, fast, and filled with snarky quips, The Snowman is a radical act of silence. Dianne Jackson, the director, leaned into the pencil-crayon aesthetic of Briggs’ original 1978 picture book. She didn't want it to look like a polished Disney production. She wanted it to look like the drawings had simply started to breathe.
The animation team used colored pencils on cells. It was a nightmare to produce. Thousands of frames, all hand-rendered to maintain that soft, blurry, dreamlike texture. This specific look is why the movie hasn't aged a day. CGI from ten years ago looks like a dated video game, but The Snowman looks like a memory. It feels tactile. You can almost feel the cold paper and the wax of the crayons.
The story is deceptively simple. James, a young boy with vibrant red hair, wakes up to a world transformed by snow. He spends his day building a snowman. At midnight, the snowman comes to life. They explore the house. They ride a motorcycle (a scene Briggs insisted on because he loved mechanical things). They fly to the North Pole. They meet Father Christmas—a character Briggs later gave his own grumpy spin in a different book—and then they fly home.
Then James wakes up. He runs outside. And the snowman is gone.
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Why the Ending Still Hits So Hard
Briggs was famously adamant about the ending. He didn't want a "frosty the snowman" moment where magic saves the day. He wanted kids to understand that things end. People die. Seasons change.
"I don't have happy endings," Briggs once told the Guardian. "I create what happened: the snowman melts, my parents died, animals die, flowers die. Everybody does. It's not a gloomy belief. It's a fact of life."
That’s the secret sauce. The Snowman treats children with respect. It doesn't lie to them. When James stands over that small, slumped pile of snow with the coal buttons and the hat, the grief is real. It’s a tiny, manageable introduction to the concept of loss. If you grew up watching this, that final shot of James standing alone in the snow is probably burned into your brain. It's a heavy moment for a "cartoon," but it’s the reason we still talk about it.
The Mystery of the Singing Voice
For years, people thought Aled Jones sang "Walking in the Air." It’s a common misconception. Honestly, even Jones has had to clarify this a thousand times.
The version in the actual movie was sung by Peter Auty, a choirboy at St. Paul’s Cathedral. Because of a rush in production, Auty wasn't even credited in the original 1982 broadcast. Aled Jones sang a cover version for a TV ad a few years later, and that version became the massive chart hit. It wasn't until the 20th-anniversary release that Auty finally got his name on the screen.
The song itself, composed by Howard Blake, serves as the narrative engine. Without dialogue, the music has to do the heavy lifting of telling us how James feels. The shift from the playful, staccato themes of the "motorcycle chase" to the soaring, ethereal "Walking in the Air" captures that transition from childhood play to something spiritual and vast.
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David Bowie and the Scarf
If you watch the movie on different platforms today, you might see a different intro.
The original version features Raymond Briggs himself walking through a field in Sussex. But for the US release and later anniversaries, they wanted some star power. Enter David Bowie.
Bowie was a fan of the book. He filmed a short intro in an attic, wearing a long scarf that looked exactly like the one the Snowman gives James. For a whole generation of fans, Bowie is the face of the movie. It’s a bit of a surreal addition, but it cemented the film’s status as a piece of high art rather than just another holiday special. There’s also a version featuring Father Christmas, narrated by Mel Smith, but it loses some of that lonely, atmospheric magic that the Bowie or Briggs intros provide.
The 2012 Sequel: Did It Work?
In 2012, for the 30th anniversary, we got The Snowman and The Snowdog.
Sequels to masterpieces are usually a bad idea. We’ve all seen the straight-to-DVD disasters. But this one was handled with an insane amount of care. They went back to the hand-drawn, pencil-and-paper method. No computers. They used over 200,000 drawings.
It introduced a new boy, Billy, who is mourning the death of his real dog. He builds a snowdog alongside the snowman. It’s a beautiful film, but it’s undeniably "sweeter." It hits the same emotional beats, but it feels like a tribute rather than a groundbreaking original work. It’s worth a watch, especially for the animation quality, but it doesn't replace the 1982 original.
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Real-World Impact and Legacy
The influence of this movie is everywhere. Every winter, the Sadler's Wells Theatre in London puts on a stage adaptation that has been running for over 25 years. It’s become a rite of passage for British families.
The film also paved the way for other Briggs adaptations like When the Wind Blows (which is much darker—about a nuclear strike) and Father Christmas. It proved that there was a massive audience for "prestige animation" that didn't follow the Disney formula of sidekicks and musical numbers.
Common Misconceptions
- It’s a Christmas Movie: Technically, it’s a winter movie. Christmas is only mentioned in the North Pole scene, which wasn't even in the original book. The book is just about snow.
- The Song: Again, it’s Peter Auty, not Aled Jones, in the film.
- The Ending: People often remember James waking up and it being a dream. The film suggests it wasn't a dream—he still has the scarf Father Christmas gave him. This makes the melted snowman even more tragic. It was real, and it’s still gone.
How to Watch and Experience It Today
If you're looking to revisit The Snowman, don't just put it on in the background while you decorate the tree. It’s a film that demands your full attention.
- Find the original 1982 cut. Some newer versions have been cropped for widescreen, which cuts off the top and bottom of the beautiful hand-drawn frames. Look for the 4:3 aspect ratio if you can.
- Listen on a good sound system. Howard Blake’s score was performed by the Sinfonia of London. The orchestration is incredible. You want to hear the woodwinds and the crispness of the boy soprano's voice.
- Read the book. Briggs’ layout is cinematic. He uses panels like a storyboard, which is why the transition to film felt so natural.
- Visit the locations. If you’re ever in Brighton, UK, you can see the landmarks from the flight sequence, including the Royal Pavilion and the Palace Pier. It brings a weirdly grounded reality to the fantasy.
The Snowman is a rare piece of media that hasn't been ruined by its own success. Despite the plush toys and the pajamas sold at every department store, the thirty minutes of film remain pure. It is a quiet, shimmering meditation on the fact that the most beautiful things in life are often the most fleeting.
James didn't get to keep his friend, but he got to fly. Maybe that’s the point.
Next Steps for Fans
To truly appreciate the craft behind the movie, track down the making-of documentary titled Snowman Magic. It features interviews with the original animators who explain the grueling process of using individual colored pencils to create the "flicker" effect. Additionally, check out the 2016 graphic novel Ethel & Ernest (also by Briggs and later a film) for a deeper look at the biographical roots of the house and the parents seen in The Snowman. It provides a heartbreaking context to the world James lives in.