MGM, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
By Geoff Carter
It’s only about a week until Christmas, and we’re into the full swing of the holiday season. Shopping, decorating, traveling, baking, wrapping, entertaining, and all the other painfully joyous activities are part of the annual hustle and bustle of the holidays, but another huge part of the yuletide gestalt is enjoying the traditional Christmas movies and television specials that have become a significant part of the season.
We have A Charlie Brown Christmas, Rudolf the Red-Nose Reindeer, Frosty the Snowman, The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, It’s a Wonderful Life, White Christmas, and on and on and on…  We’ve known most of these stories since childhood. Here’s a comprehensive list of holiday TV and movies: Wikipedia List of US Christmas Specials. (And this does not even count the infinite number of those syrupy Hallmark holiday romances).
We all know these productions. And on top of these traditional favorites, we have music specials featuring Mariah Carey, Kelly Clarkson, Michael Bublé, Chris Isaak, and more… No matter how hard we try, it’s difficult to escape the joyous celebrations of the season.
One particular perennial favorite has been around over a century and boasts more incarnations than the Marvel Spiderman franchise. This is of course Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, which has become so deeply ingrained into our cultural traditions that its lexicon has become part of our culture. We all know who and what being a Scrooge is; the term is ubiquitous, surpassed only by its more recent imitator: the Grinch. Even Disney coopted the name, giving it to Donald’s miserly uncle, Scrooge McDuck. Tiny Tim is another iconic figure from this story. We all know who—and what—Tim Cratchit is—the helpless victim of the cruel greed and avarice of Scrooge and his like. He is the innocent, like the Baby Jesus in the manger.
This story of forgiveness and redemption is so often played and replayed, produced and reproduced, that it seems unimaginable that anyone might not know the story. There have been dozens of film and television versions, including feature-length films and TV specials, as well as sitcom and television adaptations of the story in shows like The Odd Couple or Saved by the Bell (how’d I miss that one?)
Film adaptations include a comedy—Scrooged; a musical—Scrooge; a recent dark reimagining of the tale—2019’s A Christmas Carol, a number of animated versions—including Mr. Magoo’s Christmas Carol, and has featured such luminaries as George C. Scott, Albert Finney, Patrick Stewart, Michael Caine, and Bill Murray playing the dastardly Scrooge. The earliest version is an incomplete silent film “Scrooge and Marley’s Ghost” from 1910 and, most recently, another British version was released in 2020. Counting local and national theatrical productions—not to mention the novella on which they were based—that’s one hundred and ten years of practically uninterrupted and unmitigated Scrooginess.
Of course, this begs the questions: Why? Why is this particular tale so fantastically popular that it has been remade dozens of times? Is it because the story speaks to the power of love and the possibility of redemption? Is it because it embodies the magical power of Christmas? Is it because it’s a condemnation of capitalistic greed and societal inhumanity toward its less fortunate members? (My God. I’m starting to sound like Dickens). Or is it simply a compelling narrative?
There are some religious overtones to the tale that could help explain its appeal. Scrooge changes mostly because he gets the bejesus scared out of him when confronted with the possibility of his own death. The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come seems as if it is a specter that has risen from hell itself. As I mentioned previously, the innocent child, the lamb, is completely and perfectly embodied by Tiny Tim. The Ghost of Christmas Past speaks of Scrooge’s redemption, of the salvation of his soul. But all told, the religious angle does not seem to be Dickens’ main focus. He, after all, was a champion for the poor and an advocate for reform; he lived in the present. And A Christmas Carol is mostly a tale of hope. If there’s hope for Scrooge (and the Grinch, in—arguably—yet another incarnation), then there’s hope for all of us, no matter how despicable. And what else is Christmas about?
But then why are there so many adaptations? There’s only a couple of versions of It’s a Wonderful Life (see Marlo Thomas). So why did the producers of The Odd Couple and Family Ties feel a need to do their version of Dickens’ classic? It’s as if they felt a need to attach the significance of Scrooge’s transformation onto their own characters, as if to reassure us that they are good people. Maybe that’s the “je ne sais quoi” of the tale—that it personalizes redemption, that it allows us to see the before and after renditions of Scrooge in ourselves and to participate vicariously in his journey. Maybe it’s because society recognizes an embarrassment of Scrooges within itself, that this is a lesson that needs to be constantly—and relentlessly—taught and retaught.
So, from the impeccably produced film versions like (my favorite) the 1984 adaptation featuring George C. Scott, to the odd and contrived Ms. Scrooge or An American Carol to cartoons to Muppets to musicals to sitcoms to local theater productions, this story has repeatedly embodied the spirit and the redemptive power of Christmas. It’s too bad that, unlike Scrooge, most of us only feel (if we’re lucky enough) the true spirit of Christmas only for a day or two.
In the book, Ebenezer Scrooge was changed by his encounters with the spirits for the rest of his life. Most of the rest of us feel generous, compassionate, and redeemed for a day or two. Then it’s back to the old grind. Maybe we should replay versions of this holiday classic year-round in order to ingrain its message into our thick heads. Then, perhaps, like Scrooge, we might start to feel the Christmas spirit every day of the year. What the hell… Nothing else has worked.