Few literary characters are continually adapted into movies more than Ebenezer Scrooge (and Sherlock Holmes, Dracula, and Frankenstein’s monster). A Christmas Carol has been musicalized, animated, and reimagined dozens and dozens and dozens of times over the years. The first cinematic treatment of Charles Dickens’s classic story dates back to a 1901 British silent film. Everyone from Basil Rathbone to Fred Flintstone has brought Scrooge to life.
The 1951 version, known as A Christmas Carol in the US and as Scrooge in the UK, remains the high-water mark for Christmas Carol adaptations. Alistair Sim’s performance as Scrooge is the one that all others are compared to. Here are 3 more versions that I consider “essential” for any fans of the Dickens story. (Are there other really good ones? Of course. But I’m only picking these.)
Some consider this, not the ’51 version, the definitive production of A Christmas Carol. I am less enchanted by this made-for TV movie than others are, but George C. Scott’s intelligent performance makes this adaptation standout and qualify as essential.
Scott displays several unique acting choices, subtle but distinctive. Rather than the bitter and snarling approach most actors take, Scott plays Scrooge as more burnt-out, tired, and disinterred in life, deeply sad and lonely. In a way comparable to Bill Murray’s performance in Scrooged, Scott’s displays a wicked and dark sense of humor, guffawing at the thought of a merrymaker buried with a stake of holly plunged in their heart.
Instead of a crotchety miser, Roger O. Hirson’s screenplay refocuses Scrooge as a shrewd businessman, a commodities merchant rather than a moneylender. At the London Exchange, he charges three other businessmen an extra 5% for corn, despite their protesting that the poor will suffer from Scrooge’s inflated price. This Scrooge is also an intellectual. He talks of his childhood love for reading and literature, and bristles when Fred’s guests struggle playing a word game involving intricate similes.
Even in the best adaptations, Scrooge eventually becomes a passive protagonist, standing idly by as scenes unfold around him. He watches and listens, but does little else. This version puts forth a perfect remedy: Scrooge stays active through his obstinate attempts to interact and argue with the characters he encounters, despite his being invisible.
Hirson’s screenplay includes several interesting additions that provide new in-roads into Scrooge’s character. Most notably, Scrooge’s unloving father makes a physical appearance, rather than simply referred to as in most adaptations. Despite the capable hand of director Clive Donner, who served as film editor on the 1951 version, the cast gives mostly unmemorable performances compared to Scott’s, and the production design looks far too clean and polished. Nevertheless, this remains an essential version of A Christmas Carol for displaying how unique acting choices can provide unique characterizations, even for a well-worn character like Ebenezer Scrooge.
THE MUPPET CHRISTMAS CAROL (1992)
For a certain generation, this remains the end-all-be-all of Charles Dickens movies. Possibly, Mr. Dickens himself would even agree. Despite a roster of frogs, pigs, rats, and bears, The Muppet Christmas Carol is one of the most authentic representations of Charles Dickens’s original words. Screenwriter Jerry Juhl (the Muppets’s top writer, dating back to The Muppet Show) hit upon an absolutely brilliant storytelling conceit. By casting Gonzo as the narrator in the form of Dickens himself, Juhl finds a natural way to quote the Dickens text verbatim on screen.
In the tradition of Mister Magoo’s Christmas Carol and Mickey’s Christmas Carol, this iteration takes Muppet characters and plugs them perfectly into the Dickens roles. Kermit the Frog as Bob Cratchit unceremoniously appears in the background of a shot as if he were a regular “actor”. Likewise, Miss Piggy as Mrs. Cratchit doesn’t appear until 53 minutes in and no effort is made to expand her part just because she’s Miss Piggy. The Dickens text receives total respect from the filmmakers and the Muppets. The seriousness in which they all take this project generates the humor.
There exists no more salient example of this than Sir Michael Caine’s performance. He plays the part like he would with the Royal Shakespeare Company. He remains totally committed to giving the audience a complete experience, grounded in a reality that tethers down the outrageousness of acting alongside felt. To him, Kermit isn’t a piece of green cloth with some bearded guy’s hand crammed up his keister. Kermit is just another actor and Caine’s absolute dedication to this makes the entire production gel, providing legitimacy to the mixing of flesh and blood actors with Muppet actors.
Of course there’s the wry, self-aware humor that makes the Muppets the Muppets. Like Rizzo ragging on the all-knowing Charles “Gonzo” Dickens for being a “hoity-toity, Mr. Godlike smarty pants” or Statler and Waldorf mocking Scrooge’s bad pun (a cheeky dig at a Dickens quote involving “grave” and “gravy”.) These moments allow for the Muppets’s tone without undercutting Dickens. Most amazingly, The Muppet Christmas Carol manages to retain genuinely scary moments, like Scrooge’s door-knocker morphing into the visage of his dead partner and the hooded wraith specter of the Ghost of Christmas Future. The scares are brought to just the right point before the Muppets puncture the bleakness with a well-placed, reassuring laugh.
But The Muppet Christmas Carol is probably most beloved for its musical score. The multitalented Paul Williams (another longtime Muppet collaborator) created one of the most effective scores for a musical film. I often find myself unconsciously humming the songs throughout the year, whether winter or summer. Original tunes like “One More Sleep Til Christmas”, “It Feels Like Christmas”, and “Thankful Heart” remain as strong and emotionally evocative as any Victorian Christmas carols.
Another song, “When Love is Gone”, was infamously extricated from the original release when the studio felt kids in the test audiences were bored by it. For many years, the song was found only on certain DVD releases, as part of an extended cut or as a bonus scene. Recently, Disney+ restored “When Love is Gone” to the film. You will find the “full length version” under the extras section. The song is a mature, textured, and stirringly painful dirge for lost love. Its inclusion only enhances an already wonderful and cherished version of Dickens’s beloved story.
This made-for TV movie starring Patrick Stewart aired on the TNT Network on December 5, 1999 and hasn’t received much love since. I don’t understand it. Apart from the 1951 version, this is my unrivaled favorite. The movie holds a special place for me as the first “grown-up” Christmas Carol I ever watched.
I vividly remember purchasing my VHS copy at the Paramus Park Mall and going to my cousin’s house to watch it. It was the most frightening movie I ever saw. Despite being co-produced by Hallmark Productions, this version of A Christmas Carol is the antithesis of all those syrupy and sugary Hallmark Christmas movies. I never visited Victorian London, but I imagine this iteration comes the closest to what life would look and feel like.
The production design captures the grim and filthy dankness, reproducing the aura conjured by Dickens’s words. The streets look cold and sound sloshing with slushy snow. Scrooge’s office feels old and moldy, and his chambers slick with ages of dust, just as his nephew describes them. In some versions of A Christmas Carol, including the 1951 version, the Cratchit home appears too spacious and bright. Here, their house is a cramped and cluttered squalor, making the family’s good-natured cheer, in the face of this impoverishment, all the more moving.
The 1999 version features the most unflinching nihilistic tones and depictions. Like in the novella, but omitted from most film versions, the Ghost of Christmas Present takes Scrooge around the country to witness the sufferings and hardships of lighthouse workers, coal miners, and sailors. Unlike most Hollywood versions, the visits to the prisons, the grimy alleys, and the squalid dwellings for the destitute stay resolutely unglamorous. Even the actors, from main stars to background performers, look sickly and frail.
The great Richard E. Grant gives the best portrayal of Bob Crotchet ever on film. His Cratchit is excruciatingly meek and terribly sensitive, endearing the audience to him instantly. His lanky and cadaverous body looks perfectly built for the part. His gaunt face displays the decades of hardships and the years of faking happy smiles for his penniless children. This Cratchit positively trembles whenever in Scrooge’s presence, but also retains a strong dignity. Grant nearly steals the show from Professor X himself with such a remarkable performance.
Stewart was very familiar with the role of Ebenezer Scrooge. Throughout the 90s, he starred as Scrooge (and all the other characters) in a one-man show that he also wrote. This Scrooge does become too passive as the movie progresses, but Stewart adds some memorable nuances to his performance. He shows slight growing pains to Scrooge’s post-haunting behavior.
In most adaptations, Scrooge immediately embraces his new generous ways and instantly gels with society. Here we see him wince when he offers to pay a boy a shilling, forgets to remove his top hat when he enters the church, and flounders when trying to sing the congregation’s Christmas hymns. It’s a smart differentiating choice on Stewart’s part, allowing us to witness logical trip-ups Scrooge will face as he lives his redeemed life.
His Scrooge feels so unlike the others. Stewart’s Scrooge is strong and virile, tough as hell, steely, and unbreakable like a block of solid ice. When a young boy tries caroling out front of the counting house, you fear Scrooge might beat the shit out of the kid.
-T.Z.
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