By 1970 the
gargantuan razzamatazz Hollywood musical that had once been a main staple in
the industry was truly dead. Changing audience tastes, budgetary restrictions
and a departure of the old guard from the studios, skilled artisans who truly
understood the craftsmanship behind creating suspended disbelief, all conspired
to put the final nails in the coffin for the glossy movie musical as an art form.
Musicals were still being made. But now they had the faint whiff of mothballs
and formaldehyde; a sort of lumbering extravaganza suffering from acute
elephantitis and a deplorable lack of overall good taste to sell them as high
art.
It is all too
easy to cast Ronald Neame's Scrooge
(1970) into this latter category; an ambitious musical retread of Charles
Dickens' A Christmas Carol. Robert Cartwright's art direction, Oswald
Morris' cinematography and Margaret Furse's costume design have the richness
and pedigree of a film like Carol Reed's Oliver!
(1968). Scrooge is also blessed with
star performances: Albert Finney (in the title role), Kenneth More (The Ghost
of Christmas Present) and Alec Guinness (Jacob Marley) among others. Yet Scrooge quickly becomes an exercise in
tedium, desperately second rate in its re-telling; wholly unrealized in its
claptrap of episodic vignettes loosely strung together by Leslie Bricusse's
weighty script and thoroughly forgettable songs. The shame of it is that
everyone in front, as well as behind, the camera is working at full speed to
make a grand success of the film. That they fail in spite of themselves is more
of a personalized disappointment than an artistic embarrassment; though
arguably Scrooge is more than a
little of both.
Our story begins
on Christmas Eve. The perennial miser, Ebenezer Scrooge (Finney) is working his
accountant Bob Cratchit (David Collings) late into the night. Despite this
hardship, Bob harbors no ill will against his employer, even thanking him for
his miserable Christmas pay before taking to the London streets with young
daughter, Kathy (Karen Scargill) and son, Tiny Tim (Richard Beaumont) in
preparation for the all too brief celebration that will be their Christmas Day.
Scrooge is
invited by his nephew (Michael Medwin) to celebrate the holiday at his home.
But Scrooge will have none of it. Instead he locks himself inside his dark and
brooding gothic home (shades of Wuthering Heights) as he plans to
escape the merriment of another Christmas by remaining bitter and alone. Bah,
humbug! All, however, does not go according to plan.
The ghost of
Scrooge's partner, Jacob Marley (Guinness) appears and forewarns Scrooge that
he is coming to no good end. After some initial fear, Scrooge admonishes the
ghost who promises to show him the error of his ways by sending three spirit
guides that will plague the rest of his evening's slumber: the ghosts of
Christmas Past (Edith Evans), Christmas Present (More) and Christmas Yet To
Come (Paddy Stone).
Scrooge
superficially indulges the first two ghosts, reliving the folly of his own
youth and the loss of his one true love with Christmas Past; recalling the
hearty pleasures of romance. With Christmas Present, Scrooge visits the
Cratchit home, amazed at how joyous this destitute family is despite Tiny Tim’s
polio that will likely claim his life. Scrooge is further shown the Christmas
Day celebration at his nephew's home where various guests poke fun at Scrooge’s
miserly ways.
But it is the
third and final spirit of the night who presents Ebenezer with the most
sobering glimpse of all; his own mortality, foretold as an exile into the
bowels of hell where he will be forced into an eternity of servitude as Satan's
book keeper in chains. Oddly enough, when Scrooge
is shown on television this sequence is always cut from the film. Realizing the
error of his ways, or perhaps simply petrified over the thought of spending
eternity in hell, Ebenezer awakens to find himself in his own bed Christmas
morning. He dresses in earnest and hurries into the streets to buy up all the
goodies he can and spread his renewed cheer to all. London rejoices at
Scrooge's conversion and joins him to celebrate this blessed day.
Scrooge has everything going for it. And yet if struggles to
keep pace and time with the best in the musical genre. Perhaps the fundamental
flaw remains its central character. Ebenezer Scrooge is hardly a loveable
literary figure - except in the last ten minutes of the film. Albert Finney, a
superb actor, is devotedly malevolent as the penny-pinching codger, but perhaps
a tad too acrimonious to be believable as the cheery convert of Christmas present.
Lest we forget
that Dickens’ original text was written at a time when the oddities of the
supernatural fascinated his literary audience. But on film the excesses and
eccentricities of these ghosts has always translated to more rank curiosity
than genuine fascination. Dramatic interpretations of the story have fared only
slightly better on the whole. But as a musical, Scrooge tends to lack the one essential to make Dickens’ proses
justly soar – heart. In general then, Dickens’ masterwork is an ill fit for the
splashy musical treatment. Re-titling the film 'Scrooge' only serves to place the emphasis squarely on Finney's
shoulders. As an actor, he is more than up to that challenge and perhaps if the
film were a non-musical he would have had better luck in bringing his character
to cantankerous life.
But the
screenplay forgets a fundamental of what makes the Hollywood musical work –
namely, a central character endearing to the audience who can manage the bulk
of the score with minor assists from the rest of the cast. Regrettably, Finney
has but one musical moment in Scrooge
and it comes after his character's conversion at the end of the story, belting
out a secondhand reprise of 'Thank You
Very Much' - the one faintly memorable song in the score. Yet even this
ditty doesn't belong to his character. It is first sung by the undertaker at
Scrooge's own funeral during the film's third ghostly visitation of night.
Which brings
me to the woefully lethargic score; songs sung as almost incidental
afterthoughts by supporting cast or as ensemble set pieces: all of them mere
backdrop, thus rendering the film's premise as a musical moot even before the
story has begun. It is perhaps a telling bit of foreshadowing that Paddy Stone
(who plays 'death' in the film) is also listed as Scrooge's 'stager: musical
sequences' since the choreography is as stiff as a freshly laid out corpse.
The dances are pedestrian at best, with most of the supporting players simply
shuffling about while waving their hands and rocking back and forth from the
waist up. In the last analysis, Scrooge
bombs as a musical entertainment because its musical elements are out of whack
with the time-honored conventions of the genre. Its narrative center is as hollow
and void of inspiration, love and magic as the central character of Ebenezer
Scrooge himself.
Scrooge comes to Blu-ray via CBS Home Entertainment - a
subsidiary of Paramount. The results are actually quite impressive. The image
is remarkably pristine and vibrant, showing little signs of its age. Colors
have been accurately reproduced, giving full range to the magnificently
designed sets and costumes. Flesh tone looks natural and fine details pop in
1080p as they should. Film grain is expertly rendered with the occasional age
related artifact never distracting. All in all - a very pleasing visual
presentation. The audio is quite a revelation too. The HD-DTS is remarkably
powerful. Dialogue is rather frontal sounding but clearly delineated while the
songs explode from the sides and rear with solid bass and excellent tonality.
Good stuff for a mediocre film. According CBS’s usual miserly ways, there are
no extras!
FILM
RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
2
VIDEO/AUDIO
3.5
EXTRAS
0
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