Greg has owned and operated Greg's Trees for 38 years; he also owns Greg's Roses, Greg's Pumpkins, and Greg's Other Holiday-Themed Plant-Based Products, but that's beside the point, except to answer the question of whether anyone in the tree business needs to work the other 11 months of the year.
George Smith used to work for Greg, and now George has his own tree business. Jersey Shore resident Heather Neville worked for George and now owns NYC Tree Lady. Also part of the circle are Vermont's Jane Waterman and George Nash, known for Uptown Christmas Trees, and their daughter Ciree, who will take over the business once her parents, both in their 70s, retire.
Director: Celia Aniskovich
Writer: Owen Long
They're all "frenemies," Heather jokes, and they compete for the best corners of town, but when one needs help, another comes to the rescue. Kudos to that sense of community! Not included in this circle is an entity known as Kevin Hammer, a guy with a very fitting name who participates in a measly phone interview with the documentary filmmakers.
He's a ruthless businessman who sees no friends in the tree business, only enemies. Rumor has it he's a Scientologist. Boo! I guess four of the Big Five isn't bad; anyway, this documentary doesn't need to be over 90 minutes long. Hanging out with Greg, George, Heather, and the Vermonter family is quite fun, because we learn some generalities and intricacies about the Christmas tree business: their tree sources are SECRET.
They participate in annual auctions to rent retail spaces all over town and adhere to friendly "unwritten rules" to avoid stepping on each other's toes—except for that jerk Kevin Hammer. They participate in calculated bets on how much inventory they think they'll sell. And they employ dozens of people who work 12-hour days between Thanksgiving and Christmas, many of them free-spirited and nature-loving, and some, it's implied, ex-convicts in need of help, who don't mind spending weeks at a time in a small shed on the cold streets of New York and possibly without showering.
We also get to know some of these people as, well, people. Greg works alongside his 20-year-old son, Little Greg (note that "Little Greg" is 6'5"), and uses his white beard and ample belly when he volunteers to play Santa at local gatherings. Greg also faces a major personal challenge that's revealed in the third act. Ciree faces a tough learning curve as she takes over Uptown from her parents, who have been in the business so long they used to have run-ins with the mob back in the day (that conflict has lessened considerably over the years, phew!). George is a big, lovable teddy bear, a gruff but affable Noo Yawker trying to find the perfect woman at speed-dating events—and he just might have found her. Heather also owns an exotic meat shop on the Jersey waterfront (check out the pig's head in the window) and shares that she's a recovering addict with a criminal record; we see her find a homeless alcoholic sleeping in one of her sheds and, kindly but firmly, tells him he needs help, and she... knows from experience. These people are great, and not just because they swear nonstop while spreading Christmas cheer.
Are all the tree characters in The Merchants of Joy weirdos? Yes, a little, but in a very endearing way. The more time we spend with them, the more we appreciate them for who they are. If Aniskovich draws any general conclusion about his subjects, it's that it takes a certain kind of person to oversee the "organized chaos" of Christmas tree sales in New York: someone who doesn't put up with nonsense, is a little crazy, is entrepreneurial when it comes to seasonal, up-and-down businesses, and is willing to get their hands dirty and do a tremendous amount of work to earn some money while spreading a little joy during a time of year that is as happy as it is difficult. It doesn't feel like anyone is getting rich off this; it's rooted in tradition and a love for the craft, and the film is, quietly, an ode to the freedoms and tensions of... self-employment in family businesses.
Despite presenting Kevin Hammer as the Grinch of this story, the documentary doesn't really capture the inherent tension of a business whose season ends with the shredding of a few dozen or a few thousand trees. It addresses the risks and moves on to more pleasant things. Aniskovich more accurately observes the seasonal street bustle of haggling customers, the omnipresent traffic of cars and pedestrians, the honking horns and the brutal weather, and how these people are made to endure all the noise, to block it out.
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