It’s femme fatale fall, folks! What does that mean, though? It means, instead of being agreeable, submissive, and innocent, be cunning, duplicitous, and Machiavellian. Weaponize legal loopholes to embarrass the town oddity—that one bald boy in the yellow and black zigzag polo shirt. Yeah, that one, the bumblebee-looking freak. Talk to him about the upcoming Halloween party, and when he informs you that he actually received an invitation this year, fill him with doubt by telling him that “if [he] got an invitation, it was a mistake.” Ruin that iota of happiness that he’s holding onto—it’s your divine, feminine duty.
While an Autumnal classic, It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown is much more than a flurry of fall colors and a way to get into that Halloween mood. Beyond that sweet nostalgia is a story about the modern woman: the progression from innocence and submission to bodily autonomy and independence.
The fall special begins with Linus writing a letter to the Great Pumpkin, an apocryphal, seasonal deity boasting a remarkably large number of similarities to Santa Claus; the Great Pumpkin is fabled to deliver toys to the children who believe in its existence and possess a general goodness of soul. While this A-plot progresses the story, it serves as a suitable backdrop for women to discover their worth.
Charlie Brown’s sister, Sally—famously smitten with Linus—begins to buy into his belief in the Great Pumpkin. This overused and admittedly misogynistic trope initially infantilizes Sally as someone blinded by love for a man, disregarding her own thoughts and opinions about the validity of the Great Pumpkin, as she follows suit with Linus and spends all night waiting for a nonexistent spirit. However, before she fully commits to Linus’ shtick, her true beliefs shine through for a brief moment. This moment of true intent and clarity comes when she snaps out of her love-induced trance and confronts Linus with the absurdity of his Great Pumpkin claim, to which Linus replies: “I thought little girls always believed everything that was told to them. I thought little girls were innocent and trusting.” Without bombast, Sally responds, “Welcome to the 20th Century.” While I wished—and I think we all wished—that Sally had remained steadfast in her independence, the fact that she then reneged on her moment of logical acuity highlights the dangers of letting yourself be manipulated by love—especially, that of a man. Sally’s infatuation with Linus leads her to miss Halloween, and she comes to the realization that she missed out on a memorable night with her friends all for the lousy, fruitless pursuit of a man (boy) who causes her to make uninformed decisions. Thankfully, she stuck it to him in the end, telling Linus that her ruined evening “was all your fault,” punctuating her anger with “I’ll sue! You owe me restitution!”
Sally’s true wisdom being clouded by her emotions symbolizes the confluence of a submissive, agreeable woman who, deep down, knows better than to let her butterflies get the best of her with a 20th Century, modern woman who wants to break free from the misogynistic shackles that bound her for centuries prior. As a result, viewers tend to like Sally, which I find to be deeply problematic. At the end of the day, Sally remains sycophantic to the men in her life, putting their beliefs before her own. On the other hand, viewers tend to detest Lucy for her rudeness. However, Lucy is actually the only female character in the Peanuts™ franchise to exercise her bodily autonomy and weaponize her acuity onto her intellectually inferior male counterparts.
At the very beginning of the story, while Linus is penning his letter to the Great Pumpkin, Lucy chastises the childishness of his actions, telling him, “You better cut it out right now, or I’ll pound you!” Viewers are initially repulsed by the threat of violence enacted onto her brother, but—let’s be honest—Lucy is entirely in the right. She is the only voice of reason in this instance. Linus’ letters to the Great Pumpkin have never been answered or rewarded on previous Halloweens; what’s different this year? Exactly. Lucy is clearly the only character with satisfactory pattern-recognition skills, so I can understand her frustration.
Lucy’s heightened astuteness doesn’t stop there. Plagued with unmatched intelligence, it would be unwise for Lucy to not learn how to cope with it. It would eat her alive—the loneliness, the isolation. As a result, she must keep herself entertained by exposing the stupidity of the people—namely, the boys—around her: that aforementioned divine, feminine duty. This becomes actualized in one of the most famous scenes in Peanuts™ history: the scene of Charlie Brown attempting to kick a football held by Lucy. The reluctant Charlie Brown voices his hesitance to Lucy’s idea, stating “so you can pull it away and see me land flat on my back and kill myself.” Lucy weaponizes her intelligence, deftly whipping out a document: “See? Here’s a signed document testifying that I promise not to pull it away.” Gaining Charlie Brown’s trust, he attempts to kick the football, which Lucy yanks away at the last minute: a classic bait-and-switch. After embarrassing Charlie Brown, she deceitfully yet as-a-matter-of-factly states: “Peculiar thing about this document, it was never notarized.”
Despite being widely disliked for her cruelty, Lucy is the only character free from the paradigm that grips the other girls in this town. She acts how she pleases, does what she wants, and could not care less about what other people think of her. She is a model for other girls to follow—a true 20th Century woman. This is the crux of the film. So, ladies, light that vanilla cookie-scented candle, get out that millennial-grey weighted blanket, adorn your apartment with pumpkin Jellycats, throw on It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, and remember your worth as a strong, astute, modern woman.
Also, it is important to note that all the characters in this are five-years-old.
