Twelve Days of Christmas Carols

It’s as synonymous with Christmas as Santa Claus, fruitcake, and Black Friday (oh, yeah, and Jesus). It’s evocative of the spirit of the season to love, give, and forgive. And it’s been adapted like whoa.

I’m talking about Charles Dickens’ novella of miserly yuletide redemption, “A Christmas Carol.” We all know the story as well as we know the pledge of allegiance or the Kit Kat theme song: crotchety old greed hole hates Christmas, crotchety old greed hole is visited by ghosts to show him the error of his ways, crotchety old greed hole feels all warm and fuzzy and buys his clerk a giant turkey. The end.

Of course, there are several other nuances tucked into the narrative that make Ebenezer Scrooge’s journey from misanthrope to philanthrope a humanistic meditation on charity and the ignorance of empty wealth. And the spiritual slant is icing on the morality tale cake as the salvation of Scrooge’s eternal soul is at stake.

The story’s themes are timeless, its characters colorful, its structure deft. And with such inherently cinematic possibilities, it has been adapted countless times in film and television as well as radio and theater.

Truly countless: stop by the story’s Wikipedia page, and there are 22 film and direct-to-video adaptations listed, not to mention 33 known stage plays and musicals…

And truly timeless: long after its first publication in 1843, Scrooge’s spiritual plight was inspiring the wizards of the moving image upon the invention of the cinematograph (or movie camera for you Twi-hards). In fact, the earliest known film adaptation is a 1901 short entitled “Scrooge, or Marley’s Ghost” shot by English director Walter R. Booth and produced by film entrepreneur Robert W. Paul. Scant on content and faithfulness to the story, the film was largely an excuse to show off the visual magic tricks of early cinematographic special effects, the kind of editorial bits of fancy for which French silent film visionary Georges Méliès become immortalized (see Hugo–no, really, go to the theater and see it).

A similar version was produced by Thomas Edison for his motion picture company in 1910, and its 10-minute running time was also padded with broad theatricality and slick, if primitive, in-camera effects. (Hop over to Archive.org to check’em out–it’s free!)

And he inspired two filmmakers, and they inspired two filmmakers, and so on, and so on…

So, your time is precious this holiday season, what with the egg nog guzzling and the family fighting, which then leads to more egg nog guzzling. So where does one begin?

Which of the major film and TV adaptations that make up the yearly syndication cycle are worth your time?

Which “get” Dickens, and which are just inane family fluff?

How is old Scrooge still holding up after all these years? (Oh yeah, and I’m going to assume you already know everything about the story. That’s not out of line, is it, asses?)

Due to absolutely no demand, I’ve cobbled together some thoughts on this and divided them into twelve convenient, yuletide-themed parts. I call it:

1.
Scrooge
1935
78 minutes
Directed by Henry Edwards

The grandfather of ’em all, this British production starring veteran stage actor Seymour Hicks is a humble yet adequate flick, and the first sound adaptation. Hicks was well-known for playing Scrooge on the British stage since 1901, and by this time found the gold-soaked pinchfist to be something of a second skin; he had even previously starred in a 1913 silent version of the Dickens tale also called “Scrooge.” His take on the character is more or less a prototype of the Scrooge rattling around in our collective unconscious: crotchety, obstinate, and just plain mean. Other actors in later decades would smooth Scrooge’s jagged edges into something more psychologically complex, but Hicks gets points for crafting the ultimate shallow-minded miser who hobbles about as if physically crippled by his own stubbornness. To say the performance is one-dimensional is unfair because Hicks does one-dimensionality so well; also, since this was essentially the first widespread walking and talking Scrooge to grace the screen, it is easy to forgive such a classically inspired performance for what has now become cliched in ripe old 2011.

The surrounding film is fine with a capable stable of British stage actors holding their own against Hicks’ growling presence. Most interestingly, the ghosts of Jacob Marley and the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come never appear on screen and are represented only by cold disembodied voices from the beyond, and the Ghost of Christmas Past is shown as only a shadow. Moreover, Scrooge does not attempt to physically interact with his memories as much as in later versions and is routinely seen as something of a specter himself during these sequences. The ghostly approach to the spirits’ voices and Scrooge’s appearance during his late night journey are the film’s greatest assets as they emphasize the haunting nature of the story’s supernaturalness perhaps more than any other adaptation. However, there is an unfortunate sluggishness to the film’s pacing, even at a lean 78 minutes, and there are times when it seems as if Scrooge is so old and lame that he will just pass out dead asleep (it is the middle of the night, you know). Let’s hope you don’t, either, because despite it being something of a fossil, there’s enough to haunt the screen, and maybe you, for a brief time.

Grade: B-

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2.
A Christmas Carol
1938
69 minutes
Directed by Edwin L. Marin

When Dickens aficionados talk about how Hollywood has often overly sentimentalized a fundamentally dark tale, that’s usually code for this 1938 MGM turkey (or goose, depending on the adaptation, but you’ll be roasting it either way). Produced by Joseph L. “All About Eve” Mankiewicz early enough in his career that I don’t hold it against him, this adaptation is perfect fluffy fodder for a 1st grade class and little else. This time around, character actor Reginald Owen takes up the miserly mantle, a consummate character actor who appeared in such 1930’s Hollywood productions as Of Human Bondage and The Call of the Wild.

However, his Scrooge would be more at home in one of MGM’s “Happy Harmonies” cartoons than in any live-action feature. Donning a dusty Victorian costume padded with an old man paunch and covered in unconvincing, wispy old age make-up, Owen grumps about the screen hitting all of the predictable Scroogey beats in all of the predictable Scroogey ways. To say that Owen has already beaten the Scrooge cliches to death three short years after Seymour Hicks’ pioneering performance reveals some sort of regretful talent, or anti-talent.

At an even leaner 69 minutes, the film still creaks along in all its saccharine, fairy tale glory, or anti-glory; even the production design seems to be done slightly on the cheap. One of the challenges of any good Scrooge is to convince an audience that a coal-hearted bastard can undergo a complete upheaval in worldview over one night and not attribute it to temporary madness. However, the whole film unfolds with a pall of inevitability rather than any sort of dramatic dynamism, like a papier-mâché pre-school Christmas pageant, or Dickens by way of Thomas Kinkade. To be fair, there are a few moments in which that misty-eyed old Hollywood innocence does smack some sentimentalism into you, thanks to the warm, reverently lit photography. But by the time Scrooge proclaims with laughable schoolboy glee “Why, I LOVE Christmas!”, the film’s sweetness has whacked you over the head with a holly tree.

Indeed, there’s more spirit gum than spirit about this production.

Grade: D+

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3.
Scrooge
(known as A Christmas Carol in the U.S.)
1951
86 minutes
Directed by Brian Desmond Hurst

Considered by many film enthusiasts and scholars alike to be the Holy Grail of “A Christmas Carol” adaptations, Scrooge was an attempt by its makers to craft the definitive–and thoroughly British–version of the Dickens classic. In part a protest over MGM’s wishywashy take on the story, the film is immediately a much more authentic, grounded affair, aided by the use of on-location shooting in the streets of London. To heighten the nightmarish aspects of Scrooge self-imposed exile from joy and civilization, as well as his confrontation with the truth via divine intervention, director Hurst imbued the film with a noirish visual flair. Whether he’s ascending the stairs of his dank flat or fleeing the snowy London alleys from the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come, Scrooge stalks a world haunted by shadows.

The dour black and white photography recalls the work of other sterling British directors of the era, namely Carol Reed’s The Third Man. England had been ruthlessly barraged by the Nazis during World War II, and the air of post-war cynicism that governed the themes of Hollywood’s notorious film noir cycle was a mighty influence across the pond as well. Victorian England, for all it’s idyllic legend, is often a landscape of psychological and economic warfare for Scrooge and those around him.

That’s not to say that the film forgoes the heartfelt touches for which the story may be most known. There are moments of pure heartbreak unlike many other adaptations in which Scrooge’s mournful regret is almost palpable. That’s thanks to the remarkable and now legendary performance of British comic actor Alistair Sim. What marks Sim’s performance as much more endearing than other cinematic Scrooges is his frailty. He doesn’t just rattle off the famous Scroogeisms with a scowling lip and a cocked eyebrow; he seems to have something to prove to others. With a truly helpless anger rather than an indignant one, he admonishes those around him as if to convince himself that Christmas is a humbug. This Scrooge is fully aware of his mistakes, and it is this self-awareness that makes his final spiritual conversion the most delightful moment of the film, and for Sim as an actor. As he can’t stop himself from giggling over his rediscovered joy, there is a great sense of relief that his lies can now end.

The actors surrounding Sim are all top-tier British character actors, including Hermione Baddely (Mrs. Cratchit), the blustery maidservant Ellen from Mary Poppins. But Sim is the crown jewel here, and is definitely one of the best Scrooges out there. There are times that Sim’s comic features bely some broad scene-chewing sensibilities, but as a Scrooge that lives with his sins hanging about him like a noose amidst the shadows of his earthly existence, it’s nearly ideal.

Grade: A-

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4.
Scrooge
1970
113 minutes
Directed by Ronald Neame

With a screenplay, music, and lyrics by Leslie Bricusse, “A Christmas Carol” goes Broadway as a full-out musical. But if you’ve got your knickers in a knot imaging a kick-line of Rockettes in ghostly chains or The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come uncovering misty tombstones with jazz hands, fear not; this is actually quite a treat. With ornate London set pieces, an exuberant supporting cast, and a firm grip on Dickens’ heartfelt humanism, Scrooge is an emotionally satisfying little toe-tapper.

Ebenezer Scrooge is still greedy and still hates Christmas, obviously, and as played with grumpy relish by Albert Finney, the kind of old man who only comes out of his dilapidated house when the neighborhood boys hit a baseball through his window. Alas, Finney overplays the miser bit by giving Scrooge a hunchback and a limp. He also contorts his mouth so that he is always talking out of one side of it, making him sound more like the grizzled town elder in an old Universal monster movie. It does flirt with cartoony territory, but against a backdrop of singing and dancing, a more fanciful take on the character is forgivable.

And since this is a musical, the songs are the thing, and they are often quite charming. Scrooge has a mischievous solo early on with “I Hate People” as he meanders about London soliciting overdue debts from his poor customers. There is also appropriate upbeat revelry during Fezziwig’s ball with “December the Twenty-Fifth” as well as some sorrowful balladry with “You…You” as Scrooge recalls his lost love, Isabel.

Yet, the film’s electric Christmas spirit does go haywire in the end. After Scrooge’s final ghostly visit, the film continues for another good 20+ minutes with the number “Thank You Very Much” as Scrooge’s boisterous generosity culminates in a march down the street with a full chorus of grateful Londoners, an impromptu alleyway hand bell concert (?), and a joyful group dance around a local church square (maybe all that white stuff lying around just rhymes with snow…). What should be an exuberant yet somewhat delicately cathartic finale instead tests your tolerance for joy the way a grand inquisitor might prod a heathen’s spiritual resolve with white hot coals. But the handsome production does quite well by Dickens, Finney’s hamminess be damned.

Grade: B+

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5.
A Christmas Carol
1984
100 minutes
Directed by Clive Donner

No matter how faithful to the source material previous adaptations may be, the one thing they have in common is a flair for the theatrical. The noirish visuals of the Sim version and the bouncy Broadwayness of the Finney version stand out particularly in this fashion. However, Clive Donner’s take on “A Christmas Carol,” a British-produced made-for-TV film that got a theatrical run in England, is a much more dignified, minimalist affair. And that’s no insult, either. With a superlative star turn by George C. Scott, the film relies on the fascinating subtleties, or banalities, of a protagonist indifferent to suffering; the business of Scrooge and of Victorian economics are cold and without hope, and the film adopts as close to a social realist attitude as possible with a story steeped in the supernatural.

To aid this fact, there is no stench of histrionics in Scott’s performance. It is mannered, and at first glance, maybe irritatingly tame. However, this Scrooge is not bubbling over with rage or spewing bilious contempt for cheerful holiday whippersnappers. In fact, though he finds great frustration with the merrymaking, he takes measured amusement over the silliness of it all, heartily chuckling about Christmas’ cloying fraud and then burying himself back in his transactions. He’s an ostrich to the season rather than a Grinch.

Therefore, as Scrooge makes his journey, his heart is slowly and almost imperceptibly thawed, but thanks to the rugged discipline of Scott, the transformation is impeccably genuine. It is a bold choice indeed not to play Scrooge as a ball of miserly wrath, and the performance’s uniqueness lends a credible humanism to the role that had not yet been seen, and still has yet to be rivaled.

While its made-for-TV pedigree does insist on a less lavish production, the film’s script distills Dickens’ themes and characters with a crisp, biting literacy. Character actors David Warner (Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country) and Roger Rees (Robin Hood: Men in Tights) lend dramatic gravitas to the traditional Bob Cratchit and nephew Fred roles, respectively, and the ghosts are especially ethereal with their otherworldly appearances and collective wisdom. The film even flirts with the horror genre, as the portrayals of Jacob Marley and the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come are nightmarish stuff.

But need I again insist that Scott is the draw, and a mighty one? It’s the gentlest take on Scrooge you will see, and one of the most human because of it. Move over, Alistair–George has just slain you with a stake of holly through your heart.

Grade: A

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6.
Scrooged
1989
101 minutes
Directed by Richard Donner

The musty old counting house is now a ritzy executive suite, and Scrooge is now Bill Murray.

And, no, it’s not the other way around.

In what is perhaps the muggiest of his mugging-for-the-camera roles, Bill Murray makes an attractive, perhaps even effortless modern Scrooge in many ways: craggly skin, unkempt hairline, and a brusqueness that can still charm even as you want to sneer in his greasy face. After all, he has built his career on playing the unlikely (and mostly uncleanly) rogue who makes good, so why not darken his comic gifts and season with a bit of Dickens?

The result is Bill Murray Raw, and depending upon one’s stomach for something like that, it could make or break the holiday season. As egomaniacal-TV-exec-with-a-broken-past Frank Cross, Murray’s trademark sardonicism pierces the stratosphere. It’s a Scrooge of Pompeiian proportions, and director Richard Donner errs in not putting the brakes on some of Murray’s more scenery-demolishing choices. And yet, there is occasionally great pleasure to be found in the way Frank Cross navigates the familiar miserly midnight revival, for that rascally warmth glowing within in every Murray performance shines through at just the right times.

As for the novelty of the first significant cinematic updating of the story, it’s a stroke of genius. In a shrew wink of post-modern mischief, the TV network for which Cross works is gearing up to broadcast a live production of “A Christmas Carol,” complete with Buddy Hackett as Scrooge, the Rockettes as poor London beggars, and Mary Lou Retton as Tiny Tim (the film’s most perfectly realized gag). The film also dabbles in some macabre, Tim Burton-ian imagery, especially during the scenes with The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come; Scrooged can be a bleak creature, and the first-rate production design and special effects make Cross’ nightmares a crackling contrast to the film’s broad comedy (incidentally, or maybe cidentally, Danny Elfman wrote the score).

The crackerjack supporting cast is treasure of wicked comic sensibilities and includes John Forsythe as the ghost of a former gluttonous TV bigwig (the Jacob Marley role), David Johansen of the New York Dolls as a mercurial cabbie (the Ghost of Christmas Past), and Carol Kane as a fairy with violent tendencies (the Ghost of Christmas Present). Also look for Bobcat Goldthwait as drunken, disorderly, and disgruntled Eliot Loudermilk fired by Frank on Christmas Eve for daring to criticize Frank’s grisly promo for their special; if you appreciate his brand of hoarse wackiness like I do, it’s a golden bit part.

Of course, the heart of the film is Karen Allen as Claire, Frank’s long lost love who volunteers at a homeless shelter (it’s my favorite role of hers next to Marion Ravenwood). She has one of the warmest smiles in showbiz, and it’s the perfect one to melt Frank’s heart. And when Frank has his big, hokey confession of humanistic enlightenment on live TV, perhaps that grizzled puss of Murray’s will melt yours, too.

Great: B

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7.
The Muppet Christmas Carol
1992
86 minutes
Directed by Brian Henson

The first Jim Henson-less Muppet film goes back to Dickens for inspiration, and it comes out eh. All of the major plot points are here, with a capable if rote Michael Caine as Ebenezer Scrooge ticking off all the typical character beats with Alfred-esque aplomb. We also have Kermit the Frog as Bob Cratchit, Miss Piggy as his wife, Fozzie Bear as Fozziewig (I know, right?!), and wisecracking balcony dwellers Statler and Waldorf as the Marley ghosts.

It’s all quite warm and fuzzy to see our favorite Muppets in a favorite Christmas tale, but that Hensonian spark just isn’t there. Right when a comic set piece seems ready to sizzle with that acerbic Muppet wit, the film devolves into a chintzy musical number.  And when the mood is right for some of Kermit’s homespun wisdom, a lesser character invades the scene for some unneeded comic mugging.

1992 was an era in which Gonzo and Rizzo the Rat were the stars of the Muppet franchise, headlining not only this film as its narrators but other direct-to-video and TV specials. Gonzo has always been the blustery underdog of the Muppets roster, so his pratfalls have endeared him to audiences as the little alien who could. Rizzo, on the other hand, can quickly become a screechy little wise ass. Therefore, paring these two as the film’s narrators often renders the film joyless. While the little children need their laughs, too, how many times can we see Rizzo falling and hitting his head, or Gonzo hitting Rizzo for hitting his head? Once the story concludes and the lesson is learned, too much Kermit and Piggy and Fozzie have been sacrificed for cookie-cutter kiddie-ing around. This is a relic of a period in which the Muppets lost their zest and became a marketing machine. It’s slight and suitable family entertainment, but it’s also a shadow of the near-anarchic glee in which previous Muppet outings reveled.

Grade: C

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8.
A Christmas Carol
1999
95 minutes
Directed by David Hugh Jones

To fanboys, he’s Jean-Luc Picard and Professor X, but to many yuletide theatergoers, he’s Ebenezer Scrooge.

Before filming this bravura production of “A Christmas Carol” for TNT in 1999, Patrick Stewart had won much acclaim for his one-man stage show based upon the novella; he even parlayed that success into a best-selling abridged audio recording.

And what a piece of theatrical grandiosity it is. Stewart’s Scrooge is on a quest to extinguish joy from the world, a veritable conquistador singeing the landscape with misery as he scoops up the golden spoils for his dusty vaults. Once visited by his nephew Fred for his annual invite to Christmas dinner, the vitriol with which Stewart delivers the classic “boiled in his own pudding” speech is a gut-turning sight. There is some sort of unquenched bloodlust in this Scrooge, and no actor can scowl like Stewart to convince one of it.

Therefore, the inevitable spiritual journey Scrooge takes is something of a master class in what one might call Shakespearean Dickens. There is a pageantry of performance on display as Scrooge at times reflects the indecisive turmoil of a Danish prince or the calculating ambition of a Scottish king. However, Stewart is not merely a classically-trained braggart out to prove how well he can actorily project; he sees the threads of great literary tradition in the tragedy and redemption of Dickens’ humble tale, and his experimentation in grounding Scrooge in this history of story and acting is a fascinating one. Thankfully, he is backed by another handsome production and supporting cast, including Richard E. Grant and theatrical legend Joel Grey, that can give as good as it gets. This one’s often a beauty, led by Stewart’s hot-blooded beast.

Grade: B+

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9.
A Christmas Carol
2004
97 minutes
Directed by Arthur Allen Seidelman

Another Scrooge, another musical, this time with lyrics by Lynn Ahrens (Seussical: The Musical, Ragtime) and Alan Menken (The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast). Broadcast on NBC in 2004, this zippy production was based on a stage version previously mounted at Madison Square Garden and stars a who’s-who of late-’90’s/early ’00’s television. Leading the pack is the superlative Kelsey Grammer as Ebenezer Scrooge. The “Frasier” star is no stranger to the musical scene having starred in a Los Angeles production of Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street and most recently a successful revival of Le Cage Aux Folles on Broadway, and his Scrooge an obstinate old sourpuss with a limp (though not so campy as Finney’s) who protests and preens with a stately Rex Harrison-like cadence.

By his side to bring him to the light are the likes of Jane Krakowski, Jesse L. Martin, Geraldine Page, and Jason Alexander, all of them the spirits ready to dispense their (other)worldly wisdom with Broadway-ready windpipes (Alexander has particular fun as an affable Jacob Marley toting a chorus of tortured souls, though with rhythm still unchained). Jennifer Love Hewitt also does admirable doe-eyed duty as Scrooge’s lost love, Isabel.

Of course, like the 1970 Scrooge, it’s nearly wall-to-wall music, and those who have memorized Menken’s famous Disney scores will immediately recognize the airy bounce of his Broadway-flavored tunesmanship (there are times when it seems like Menken invented Broadway and not vice versa, no?). And since it is a Menken production, this “Carol” is on the lighter side and is more of a parade of splashy dance numbers surely to leave you with visions of Cogworth dancing in your head.

Though the cast is generally a solid one, the absence of any genuine Brit is sorely felt; Grammer is the only who can deliver a halfway convincing British accent without his glossy American TV star-ness tripping his tongue. And that’s the sole drawback of this version, the fact that marquee value rules the day. Its slight but jubilant approach to the story could have been lent more weight had a few more unknowns populated the impressive set pieces. Regardless, it was quite a pleasant surprise considering the golden age of big-budget network TV productions had passed by 2004, and it’s worth a look just for the fun of it all.

Grade: B+

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10.
A Christmas Carol (2009)
2009
96 minutes
Directed by Robert Zemeckis

Having ruined a fond memory of my childhood with soulless quasi-humans and creepy elf things, Robert Zemeckis set his sights on another Christmas literary classic. And a funny thing happened: he kinda got it right.
Yet another all-star cast brings its considerable talent to this Carol, the latest theatrical adaptation made use of the controversial (in my circles, at least) motion capture process, or “mocap,” to animate its characters. In the campfest Beowulf and the travesty The Polar Express, Zemeckis foolhardily shot for realism and ended up revealing the inherent flaws of a process that can’t yet capture the nuances of the human face.

However, he has temporarily learned his lesson and designed the characters of A Christmas Carol with an eye toward the more classical illustrations that color all sorts of printings of the story. Scrooge has a jutting chin and a hooked nose with not an absence of boils and such, but he’s not a gross caricature. It’s a fine balance between the real and the reel that for which mocap was intended, and the typically rubbery Jim Carrey actually proves to be a stodgy, reserved sort of Scrooge, instead letting the stylized visual design augment his performance rather than the reverse. It was an especially inspired choice for Carrey to play all three spirits as well; what better way for Scrooge to learn his lessons than from shadows of himself that were locked away?

The animation is superb (especially the exteriors of snowladen London), and Zemeckis manages to steer the scant novella into frequent bit of adventurous cinema. And alas, that is a blessing and a curse. Zemeckis made hay of the fact that he felt this version was truer to Dickens’ vision because of how mocap technology and CGI allow for effects sequences hinted at in the story. Now, Scrooge and the spirits can actually fly through the air at the speed of light as originally intended! And Scrooge can shrink down to the size of gnome and be chased by a crazy demon carriage! For no reason! There may be times when Charles Dickens can have a productive relationship with Douglas Fairbanks, but “A Christmas Carol” doesn’t call for any sort of Zorro-esque shenanigans. The director’s wishes to entertain through adrenaline-pumped sequences, while impressively staged, ironically slow the movie down and ultimately miss the point of the whole affair. So do some ill-placed bits of slapstick, one involving Marley’s ghost having a spot of troubled with his unhinged jaw.

It’s a family film, so there’s always an instinct to insert broad material for a broad audience, but they’re unfortunate distractions. The message counts, not the magic begat by technological innovation.

Yet again, a stellar supporting cast featuring Gary Oldman, Colin Firth, and Bob Hoskins make lots of onscreen merry, and Jim Carrey brings his flair for the theatrical without shoving a big Christmas ham down your throat. It also looks like a million bucks (or $200 million more accurately), though Scrooge would find that to be an excessive waste of resources. Bah! It’s still a good time.

Grade: B+

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11.
The Animated Films

Naturally, the world of animation in all its expressive glory has produced its own varied versions of “A Christmas Carol.” There are a few we know and love, and perhaps one we may not. I’ll run down the top three:

A. “Mr. Magoo’s Christmas Carol” (1962 ) –This long-beloved short from cartoon studio United Productions of America (or UPA) is just so damn, well, lovable. The UPA house style was a stark modern arty approach to animation in comparison with the classical Disney model, and its gave each short a more rambunctious flavor. That is certainly true of this surprisingly faithful adaptation (despite the head-scratching choice of having the Ghost of Christmas Present visit Scrooge first), whose character designs are both heavily drawn from the story and given their own UPA flair. It’s also another musical, and the songs are delightfully infectious, and even poignant. Of course, Jim Backus voices the irascible, near-sighted (or no-sighted) Mr. Magoo, who’s playing Scrooge in a Broadway production of “A Christmas Carol.” The narrative framing device of the show’s action being a stage musical performed in front of a Broadway audience is clunky and unnecessary, but the meat of it is so charming, I dare you not to beam with holiday spirit and develop a fierce appetite for razzleberry dressing.

Grade: A

B. “A Christmas Carol” (1971) — Animator Richard Williams is something of a saint in animation circles, having produced a wealth of TV commercials, authored the indispensable “The Animator’s Survival Kit” book and DVD seminar series, and supervised the animation for Who Framed Roger Rabbit? He also scooped up the Oscar in 1971 for Best Animated Short Subject for this animated version of “A Christmas Carol,” in which Alastair Sim reprised his role as Ebenezer Scrooge. The real star, however, is Williams’ evocative animation. The scenes unfold in gentle, impressionistic strokes, and the hushed tones of the vocal work enhance the dreamlike qualities of the visuals, which recall the Oscar-nominated holiday short “The Snowman.” Williams is a notorious perfectionist (he labored on the eventually doomed The Thief and the Cobbler off and on over thirty years), and his fluidity and eccentricity of style on display here and in other works make him a true auteur of the field. This is a gorgeous bit of work, and it just might be the unsung adaptation in all of “Carol”-dom (and boy do we have a mess of sung ones).

Grade: A

C. “Mickey’s Christmas Carol” (1983) — This theatrical short has gotten a lot of play at my house over the years as it’s a Disney lover’s dream. And the only thing more effortless than Scrooge McDuck playing Ebenezer Scrooge is Oasis doing a cover of “Let It Be.” It’s a slim 26 minutes, but all the big story beats get good play, and the roster of Disney stars is unbeatable. Mickey as Cratchit? Ideal. Jiminy Cricket as the Ghost of Christmas Past? Like a glove.  Goofy as Marley, tripping down the stairs over his chains? Hilarious. It’s a gentle bit of holiday sentiment from the Mouse House, and a minor animated classic.

Grade: B+

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12.
The Television Specials

The world of television, including live broadcasts, have also been bitten by the Humbug, Here are a few that you young’uns may not be aware of. Heck, I wasn’t until this month. And I have no life, man.

A. “A Christmas Carol” (1949) — This is a mere half-hour special most notable for the narration of Vincent Price. Price’s pipes of velvet doom are just as keen for a Christmas tale of the supernatural as they are for Michael Jackson’s “Thriller,” and he relishes the Dickensian prose. Otherwise, it’s a blase affair with stuffy actors just getting the job done with cheap sets and cheap effects are barely buoyed by Price’s golden throat. Move along.

Grade: C-

B. “A Christmas Carol” (1954) — Broadcast as part of the anthology series “Shower of Stars,” this videotaped production starred a heavily made-up Frederic March as Scrooge and Basil Rathbone as Marley. It’s a straightforward affair with a limited scope due to the miniscule budget. However, what makes this version historically significant is the score by legendary film composer and frequent Hitchcock collaborator Bernard Herrmann. There is a foreboding undercurrent of orchestral swells that keep the action moving, even when the staging is rather wooden. He also wrote the music to the smattering of songs in the show, which are notably only for that reason and are otherwise immediately forgettable (and a few regrettable). It’s vintage anthology TV with a few old pros showing how it’s done, but it’s not much more than that.

Grade: B-

C. “The Stingiest Man in Town” (1956) — “The Alcoa Hour” was another anthology series of literary and screenplay adaptations, and this particular episode featured a full 82-minute musical of “A Christmas Carol,” the first full-length version to have that honor. Basil Rathbone again appears, this time as Scrooge himself, and he’s a hardened old coot complete with elderly make-up and stereotypical elderly physical ticks. The songs are rather simple things about the spirit of Christmas and the value of redemption, but some of the lyrics are frequently delightful, especially the gamesome title song as sung by some sprightly chorus members garbed as beggars. The kinescope of this broadcast was just recently discovered and released on DVD in November, so there is great rejoicing amongst live television aficionados this holiday season. It’s a minor achievement compared to Finney’s Scrooge or even the Grammer version, but as a piece of live TV history, it still charms.

Grade: B

Conclusions:
1. Clive Donner’s A Christmas Carol is a masterpiece of understatement and is not to be missed
2. Richard Williams’ “A Christmas Carol” is a painterly dream, but “Mr. Magoo’s Christmas Carol” narrowly wins for being so damn adorable
3. “The Stingiest Man in Town” is a great bit of anthology work has some winning tunes to boot

And all this would have meant a lot more if I had gotten the damn post up before Christmas Eve.

Humbug.

I’m sure you’ve got your favorites out of these adaptations, or perhaps others. Strike back below and let me know–because there’s no greater gift than the validation that your blog is quasi-famous!