Animation Station: Disney’s Anim-Anthology Movies Part 3

OK, I’m going to cheat a little here. So far, I’ve been covering the Disney anim-anthology movies in the order they were released. But an interesting thing about the series of Disney anim-anthologies that went from 1942 to 1949 is that they can be divided into pairs. We’ve already seen that there were two that tried to educate US audiences about South American cultures and celebrate them. Then Disney made an animated anthology that could be and has been described as a “poor man’s Fantasia,” using dialogue and forms of music besides classical. Then they made one that was less of a “package feature” and more of a “double feature,” consisting of two stories clocking in at around forty minutes, each of which had at some point been planned as a feature length movie. Then they made another “poor man’s Fantasia.” Then they made another “double feature.” And then the company made Cinderella (1950) and would not do another anim-anthology for decades. To me, writing about the entries in the series that paralleled each other in the same blog posts makes the most sense even if it means jumping back and forth in the chronology a little bit.

Why was Disney doing so many of these during the 40s? Well, I don’t entirely understand it myself.[1]Perhaps I should have tried to explain this in the last post, but I also had to explain about the Good Neighbor policy thing, and this isn’t supposed to be a blog about history. I thought it … Continue reading Their more artistically ambitious animated films had underperformed at the box office. They’d lost some of their best talent after a bitter strike and more talent had been drafted into World War II. Those that remained had to make propaganda movies. The anim-anthologies were apparently cheaper to make and training ground, of sorts, for artists returning from war to get back in the zone. You can guess from that that most of these aren’t the most visually appealing cartoons out there, but every now and then these movies manage to dazzle while working under their admitted limitations.

Make Mine Music (1946)[2]Don’t ask me what the title means.

I didn’t describe the opening credits for Saludos Amigos or The Three Caballeros because they weren’t very interesting. The same can’t be said of the credits for Make Mine Music. We open outside a theater with a brilliantly lit marquee. Before we even see the title of the movie, we’re slapped in the face with the names of the vocal and musical talent it will feature.

This brings us to something interesting about the post-Fantasia Disney anim-anthologies. They’re full of big-name stars to an almost Dreamworks-ian extent. I kind of enjoy this aspect of them. It gives you some idea of who was popular back then, or, more accurately, who Disney believed was popular then, or, even more accurately, who was popular and willing to work with Disney. It can come across as a little desperate at times though.

The rest of the credits appear as posters inside the theater. Then the doors to the concert hall open and a pamphlet fills the screen, explaining that this will be “a musical fantasy in ten parts.” This brings us to one, I repeat, one area in which Make Mine Music improves on Fantasia. Each segment is introduced with a rather beautiful placard briefly explaining what kind of piece it is going to be and what talent it will feature. This is much more economical than Deems Taylor’s dry and lengthy verbal intros.

The Martins and the Coys sung by The King’s Men

When this movie was first released on VHS/DVD, this opening short about a pair of feuding families in the Appalachian Mountains was omitted and it might be the reason it’s currently not on Disney+. Depending on whom you ask, this was either because of its offensive “hillbilly” stereotypes or because of its cartoony gun violence. While I certainly don’t blame anyone from Appalachia for being offended by the cartoon, I’m rather baffled by the first possibility since Disney continues to release old movies containing offensive stereotypes of groups with far more powerful lobbies behind them.[3]This is the last time I’m going to mention ethnic stereotypes in this series. I’ve written about the topic in previous posts and the average adult knows enough to expect outdated … Continue reading The second possibility makes a little more sense but not much. I mean, this kind of thing is pretty common in cartoons of the era and even the ensuing decades and I don’t know how many easily influenced children are going to be attracted to Make Mine Music anyway. It’s one of the few Disney anim-anthologies to feature neither Mickey, Donald nor Goofy.

I guess the body count for this one is unusually high.

We’re clearly a long way from Fantasia with this first section and that’s not a compliment. Both the backgrounds and the simply cartoony character designs are very bland. But, hey, it’s not like this part is trying to be Fantasia. It’s trying to be funny and, well, it’s not unfunny. I can’t say it’s really hilarious either. Mildly diverting is a fair description.

Blue Bayou sung by the Ken Darby Chorus

This segment was actually something cut from Fantasia. You can tell because it’s so beautiful.

You can also tell because…well, as with several of the Fantasia segments, not much happens. Now I will defend the “boring” parts of Fantasia on the grounds of the wondrous subject matter they contain. (Fairies, dinosaurs, centaurs, earthquakes, volcanoes, winged horses, weirdly sexy goldfish.) Here we’ve just got a lovely lagoon and some cranes.[4]Or storks? I can’t tell the difference. Maybe it would have worked with the composition originally intended for it: Claire de Lune from Claude Debussy’s Suite bergamasque. The song we get, Blue Bayou, is indeed lovely, but it’s obviously a lullaby. I guess that’s not the worst thing. Some people do fall asleep in the cinema or in front of the TV and enjoy doing so. It’s not usually the content creators’ intent though.

All the Cats Join In performed by Benny Goodman and his Orchestra

The beginning of this one cleverly fools the viewer into thinking it’s going to be about actual cats when the title really refers to cats in colloquial sense.[5]Sorry for spoiling that punchline, but it’s impossible not to do so while explaining this short. A bunch of teenagers go hang out at a malt shop and dance to the jukebox’s music. The setting and characters are all portrayed as drawings in a sketch pad that come to life and sometimes move a little fast for the unseen artist’s pencil. For example, a car speeds off before it’s done being drawn and the pencil has to race ahead to do the road.[6]You may recall Saludos Amigos did some of the same thing. Chuck Jones’s 1953 cartoon, Duck Amuck, would have the most fun with the premise.

The art style is even more simplistic than that of The Martins and the Coys but this one’s a lot funnier and more energetic. It probably helps that the song is better.

I know this gag of the boy’s reaction to part of a girl’s body being erased to make her shapelier is offensive, but I can’t help chuckling at it. Mea culpa.

Without You sung by Andy Russell

Then we get a constantly shifting series of images that change to reflect the lyrics of a sad song about an absent girlfriend. It’s quite beautiful, easily my favorite of the really artsy segments of Make Mine Music.

Casey at the Bat read by Jerry Colonna[7]Fans of old Disney movies may recognize radio performer Colonna as the voice of the March Hare from Alice in Wonderland.

This one’s easily the least musical of the shorts. There’s a bit of a song (Casey, the Pride of Them All), but it’s basically a cartoon adaptation of Ernest Thayer’s classic poem about pride going before a fall on the baseball field. However little it fits in with the rest of the movie though, it’s one of the best bits, featuring some of the funniest sight gags in the whole film if not the funniest period. I especially love the overelaborate sneer of Casey’s lip.[8]In 1954, Disney would actually do a sequel cartoon, Casey Bats Again in which the disgraced athlete hopes to father a son but is disappointed to sire nine daughters. Before you get mad, the girls … Continue reading

Two Silhouettes sung by Dinah Shore

This short is basically two rotoscoped ballet dancers (David Lichine and Tania Riabouchinskaya) performing in silhouette against an animated backdrop. That backdrop is very beautiful but, sheesh, who had this lame idea?

It should be obvious at this point that Make Mine Music has had a very particular pattern thus far. First, we get a visually unappealing but engaging comedic cartoon. Then we get a slow and sleepy but eye-catching artistically ambitious short. While Fantasia definitely had a variety of moods, I can see all the shorts in it as having the same target audience. On the other hand, I can’t imagine the viewer who gets a kick out of All Cats Join In as loving Without You or vice versa, not right afterwards anyway. I know I praised Make Mine Music for not wasting a lot of time on introductory stuff like Fantasia did, but maybe longer breaks between different episodes would have given viewers time to change gears. As it is, not only do you have to get in a specific mood to watch the movie, but you also have to get in two completely different moods at the same time.

The reason for this is probably that many of the shorts weren’t originally intended to be in the same movie and were randomly thrown together at the last minute. Yet this weird yoyo rhythm is so overt that I can’t help thinking it was intentional. Fortunately, its abandoned from this point on and while not all of the remaining segments are great, they all find a happy medium between the artistic and the entertaining. Like this next one for instance.

Prokofiev’s Peter and the Wolf

I’ve heard that this short was originally conceived as part of Fantasia. While its take on the classical composition isn’t as creative as the ones in that movie, it’s probably my favorite part of Make Mine Music. Maybe not quite as funny as Casey at the Bat or as visually stunning as the artier ones, but more satisfying. The characters of Peter, his grandfather, Sasha the bird, Sonya the duck and Ivan the cat are all highly amusing to watch. I’d expected the wolf to be comic too but he’s actually kind of terrifying.

I think that decision works wonderfully, making for a cartoon that is both funny and very suspenseful.

As with Pablo the Penguin’s short in Three Caballeros, the only words spoken in this are by Sterling Holloway’s dryly humorous narrator. Again, I’m not sure if narration was necessary at all since the story unfolds so clearly, but it has its moments.

Holloway: Peter, don’t just stand that way!
Holloway: And don’t stand that way either.

After You’ve Gone performed by the Goodman Quartet

If you’re familiar with such surreal animated scenes as, say, Pink Elephants on Parade from Dumbo, you’ve seen this short about constantly shapeshifting musical instruments done better. But it benefits from the virtue of brevity.

Johnny Fedora and Alice Bluebonnet sung by the Andrews Sisters

This one tells the story of two hats in a department store who fall in love but are tragically separated.

The various hats are anthropomorphized in some clever ways. I especially admire a scene where a bar brawl is portrayed as a fight between the brawlers’ headgear.

As this suggests, Johnny’s search for Alice gets pretty dark and dramatic. I kind of like that about this cartoon.

On the whole, one of the better sections though I can’t shake the feeling it had potential up to which it didn’t live.[9]In 2013, Pixar released The Blue Umbrella, a short with a similar premise that while less dark, ended up being more emotional due to better chemistry between the leads.

The Whale Who Wanted to Sing at the Met featuring Nelson Eddy

The final short is about Willie, a whale who can sing opera in tenor, baritone and bass. An impresario called Tetti Tatti reads about this in the paper and guesses that a singer is trapped inside the animal. He sets out to harpoon Willie and get his hands on this incredible new talent. When Willie sees a newspaper clipping about the expedition, he happily assumes that he is the talent Tetti Tatti wants to discover. I wouldn’t call the ensuing story particularly engaging but it is interestingly weird. Nelson Eddy sings and speaks for all the characters and it’s a good showcase for his talent.

Remember what I wrote about how Fantasia represented a time when the Disney brand was less set in stone and they could be a little depressing? Well, the same could be said of the tragic end to this segment, which isn’t called an opera pathetique for no reason. And since it’s the last one, by extension the whole movie ends tragically. (At least Fantasia made sure its last piece was an uplifting one.)

As a matter of fact, of all the narrative shorts only Peter and the Wolf and Johnny Fedora and Alice Bluebonnet have really happy endings, though I wouldn’t call the conclusions of The Martins and the Coys or Casey at the Bat sad so much as cynically humorous. Couple that with the sadness of Without You and the grim middle section of Johnny Fedora and you’ve got one of the least cheery Disney movies out there. If Make Mine Music has some kind of connective tissue, maybe that’s it, though it kind of gives the lie to the title song’s lyrics, “Music will play the shadows away when everything seems to go wrong…”

Melody Time (1948)

The second “poor man’s Fantasia”[10]Which arguably isn’t any more driven by music than Disney movies generally were back then but, hey, they had to title it something. also opens by flexing its starry cast. I kind of hate myself for saying that because I kind of love these opening credits but the description isn’t inaccurate. We begin with a stack of sheet music on a music stand and as we flip through it, we’re shown the names of Melody Time‘s big stars with the corresponding songs they sing or perform in it.

Then we move to an easel. A paintbrush paints a theatre and a dapper theater mask voiced by Buddy Clark who serves as our master of ceremonies. He introduces each segment, half the time in rhyme, and I must say he’s a lot more fun than Deems Taylor. The brush also creates a trio of other masks that serve as female backup singers but sadly I can’t find who voiced them.

Anyway, on with the show.

Once Upon a Wintertime Sung by Frances Langford

This song is set to a vignette of a pair of human sweethearts who go on a sleigh ride and then ice skate accompanied by a rabbit couple. It’s all very warm, cozy and nostalgic feeling.

At least that’s how it starts out. Later, it becomes quite dark and suspenseful as the ice breaks and the lovers are imperiled.

As with many animated Disney movies from the 1940s and 50s, the backgrounds were done by the wonderful Mary Blair, but what’s unusual is that the characters look like they were done by her too. Well, the animals do anyway; the humans are pretty standard. I don’t mind that this wasn’t the norm at Disney. As much as I love her backgrounds, Blair’s rather expressionless characters wouldn’t have animated well. But the complete Mary Blair-ness of this short makes it something of a must-see for her fans.

Bumble Boogie performed by Freddy Martin and his Orchestra

The music for this one is actually a swing-jazz variation Rimsky-Korsakov’s Flight of the Bumblebee. The visuals consist of a bee being menaced by piano keys. It starts out pretty slow but becomes much more entertaining as the artists find new ways to anthropomorphize piano keys and it’s smart enough not to outstay its welcome.

Basically, this is what After You’ve Gone from Make Mine Music should have been.

The Legend of Johnny Appleseed portrayed by Dennis Day

Day narrates and does all the voices in this short biography of the American folk hero.[11]I know that John Chapman was a real person, but this is clearly the legendary version. I’ve read some people praise it, but I find it pretty dull myself. There’s not much in the way of humor or action. I understand that this cartoon is trying to celebrating a peaceful nonviolent hero and that’s great, but even stories about heroic pacifists typically involve some kind of conflict or struggle. Here Johnny, after being given a peptalk by his guardian angel, sets off on his mission and…basically accomplishes it without much fuss. Even before he befriends all the wild animals, none of them try to attack him. They just wait for the local skunk to scare him away.

Still, Mary Blair’s artwork makes this worth a look and it deserves credit for featuring the only song from Melody Time to have a life outside of it, The Lord’s Been Good to Me.

Little Toot sung by the Andrew Sisters

This adaptation of the children’s story by Hardie Gramatky is about a mischievous little tugboat whose rare attempt at being helpful causes a huge accident.

This gets Little Toot banished from the harbor, but he redeems himself by helping a distressed ship.

There’s nothing particularly wrong with the cartoon but there’s nothing that stands out as brilliant either. My favorite aspects are how the waves and lightning during a storm appear as menacing trying to grab Little Toot and that’s something you see in other Disney cartoons of the era.[12]I remember when I was three or four years old, watching Sing Me a Story With Belle on Playhouse Disney, which repackaged old Disney cartoons with new songs and tried to use them to teach moral … Continue reading

Trees performed by Fred Waring and his Pennsylvanians

Joyce Kilmer’s classic poem is set to dramatic music by Oscar Rasbach. The visuals for this segment are breathtakingly beautiful, making it the most visually impressive part of Melody Time. I kind of hate to say that since it doesn’t look like Mary Blair’s work. The only other artist credited for color and styling is Claude Coats but the other backdrops in this movie that don’t scream, “Mary Blair,” are so forgettable that I’m inclined to credit these to her anyway.

Blame It on the Samba featuring Ethel Smith and the Dinning Sisters

Donald Duck and Jose Carioca are back for another encore. Here they’re depressed (possibly because they read my last blog post) and stop at Cafe do Samba where their waiter, the Aracuan bird slips them a “little musical cocktail” with “a dash of the samba.” This is basically leftovers from The Three Caballeros but really good leftovers. Frankly, I’d much rather rewatch this than that movie. Maybe it’s because the surreal visual gags are funnier. Maybe it’s because the song is catchier than anything in The Three Caballeros with the possible exception of that film’s title track.

Pecos Bill performed by Roy Rogers and the Songs of the Pioneers

The finale is actually two segments for the price of one, not unlike Fantasia‘s Night on Bald Mountain/Ave Maria combo. “Any story about Pecos is bound to be strong medicine,” says Buddy Clark, “maybe it’s best to sashay into it gently.” Thus, we get some animated footage of a desert at night while the soft song, Blue Shadows on the Trail plays. It’s no Trees but still very pleasant.

Eventually, we find the singers, Roy Rogers and the Sons of the Pioneers gathered around a campfire with Roy’s horse, Trigger, and some children including Disney’s child stars, Bobby Driscoll and Luanna Patten. The melancholy noise of coyotes howling inspires them to tell the story of American tall tale hero, Pecos Bill. (When told that Bill’s horse was named “Widowmaker,” Patten laughs and say, “that’s a funny name,” which is sort of disturbing.)

The raucous cartoon that ensues might be even more fun than Blame It on the Samba. The “just so story” aspects make for a host of fun visuals like Bill digging the Rio Grande, painting the painted desert (sort of) and unintentionally scattering gold in California. And the song, Yippee-I-Yay, might just be the catchiest in all of Melody Time.

While I enjoy this one much more than I do Johnny Appleseed, I can’t help but wonder if they should have switched places. Given how Johnny emphasizes the differences between its lead and the stereotypically violent and macho hero of the American frontier, it feels anticlimactic to go from him to a “normal” one. Who knows? Maybe if I had Bill fresh in my memory when watching Johnny, the contrast would make his story more interesting. Both shorts incidentally continue the trend from previous Disney anim-anthologies of not every story having a happy ending, though it’s up for debate which one is the less happy of the two.[13]For those of you don’t mind them being spoiled, Johnny Appleseed dies but gets to continue his mission of planting apple trees in Heaven while the last we see of Pecos Bill, he’s alive … Continue reading

Conclusion

It’s hard for me to say which of these I’m more likely to recommend. The parts of Make Mine Music that I love, I love more than my favorite parts of Melody Time. At any rate, they’re more interesting if I may make the distinction between interesting and good. But, on the other hand, Melody Time has a much smoother flow to it and is more cohesive. I feel safer recommending it to my friends who aren’t necessarily interested in animation the same way I am. They’d still probably be a bit bewildered as to why I recommended it, but they’d be more likely to forgive me. Obviously, neither counts as the best animated thing that Disney ever produced, but in some ways, they’re the most fascinating.

To Be Continued

References

References
1 Perhaps I should have tried to explain this in the last post, but I also had to explain about the Good Neighbor policy thing, and this isn’t supposed to be a blog about history. I thought it would be a bit much.
2 Don’t ask me what the title means.
3 This is the last time I’m going to mention ethnic stereotypes in this series. I’ve written about the topic in previous posts and the average adult knows enough to expect outdated stereotypes from old cartoons.
4 Or storks? I can’t tell the difference.
5 Sorry for spoiling that punchline, but it’s impossible not to do so while explaining this short.
6 You may recall Saludos Amigos did some of the same thing. Chuck Jones’s 1953 cartoon, Duck Amuck, would have the most fun with the premise.
7 Fans of old Disney movies may recognize radio performer Colonna as the voice of the March Hare from Alice in Wonderland.
8 In 1954, Disney would actually do a sequel cartoon, Casey Bats Again in which the disgraced athlete hopes to father a son but is disappointed to sire nine daughters. Before you get mad, the girls surprise their father by being natural baseball players and form a team. Despite not being based on a classic poem, it’s a fairly worthy follow-up.
9 In 2013, Pixar released The Blue Umbrella, a short with a similar premise that while less dark, ended up being more emotional due to better chemistry between the leads.
10 Which arguably isn’t any more driven by music than Disney movies generally were back then but, hey, they had to title it something.
11 I know that John Chapman was a real person, but this is clearly the legendary version.
12 I remember when I was three or four years old, watching Sing Me a Story With Belle on Playhouse Disney, which repackaged old Disney cartoons with new songs and tried to use them to teach moral lessons or promote literacy. Little Toot was one of the ones that got the treatment and while the show was aimed at the youngest viewers and the Disney anim-anthologies generally tried to entertain multiple generations, I think the song they came up with for it was catchier than the one the Andrews Sisters sang. You can decide for yourself.
13 For those of you don’t mind them being spoiled, Johnny Appleseed dies but gets to continue his mission of planting apple trees in Heaven while the last we see of Pecos Bill, he’s alive but haunted by the memory of a lost love.

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Animation Station: Disney’s Anim-Anthology Movies Part 2

I admit one of my biggest hurdles when I started off on this series was the thought of reviewing Saludos Amigos and The Three Caballeros, which I remembered as being the most boring of the Disney anim-anthologies. It’s true that I described Fantasia as boring or potentially boring and I still love that, but it feels like it’s being intentionally boring. These two movies are trying to be fun and often failing at it. Fortunately, they’re both so fluffy that I think I can cover them in one fast paced blog post.

These films, or at least the first of them, are actually the result of the US government asking Walt Disney to take his animators on a tour of South America to make a movie about it as part of the United States’ Good Neighbor policy. The resulting pieces of cinema turned out to be more about explaining South America to North America rather than vice versa. If people in Latin America were really keen to see Disney cartoon stars interacting with their cultures, I find it odd that Donald Duck and Goofy, mostly the former, were featured in these movies but not Disney’s main icon, Mickey Mouse. Maybe Donald and Goofy were mad about not being in Fantasia. Maybe Mickey knew these movies weren’t going to do anything for anyone’s career. Anyhow…

Saludos Amigos (1942)

We begin with documentary footage of Disney animators boarding a plane while a voice-over narrator (Fred Shields) explains what’s happening. Then we see an animated version of the plane flying over a map of South America and the four areas on which this movie focuses are highlighted.

First, we get some footage of Peru, specifically the neighborhood near Lake Titicaca. We see the Disney artists sketching the things they see while the narrator explains about them. He doesn’t get into much depth and it’s all rather dry and dull. The part that talks about llamas made me think wistfully about watching The Emperor’s New Groove instead.

Then we get our first real cartoon, one featuring Donald Duck (voiced by Clarence Nash) as an American tourist. It starts out pretty dull with visual gags that are basically fine, but which should be familiar to anyone who’s watched Disney animated shorts from this time period. It gets much more fun and visually engaging halfway through though, when Donald buys a llama that responds to pipe music and the two of them then have to cross a precarious rope bridge.[1]Now I’m really reminded of The Emperor’s New Groove!

We then get footage of the Disney tourists flying over the Andes. The narrator informs us that learning about the planes that deliver mail inspired the next short, which is about a family of anthropomorphic aircrafts, the youngest of whom, Pedro, has to take such a flight when his parents are sick.

It’s pretty ho-hum. The best things about it are the design of the mountain which menaces little Pedro and the twist at the end about just what the letter for which our hero risked so much contained.

More dull documentary stuff follows, this time showing the animators in the Argentinian Pampas, studying gauchos and folk dancing.

It feels like it goes on a long time without telling us anything interesting about its subject, but since the last bit of live action footage we got was unusually brief, maybe they felt they had to make up for it.

Our next cartoon features Goofy (Pinto Colvig) as a Texan cowboy who gets transplanted across the border to become an Argentinian gaucho. It’s got some good funny moments, mostly to do with contrast between what the narrator describes and what actually happens onscreen. But most of them are near the beginning and I was soon ready for this part to be over.

The final documentary section is about Rio Janeiro in Brazil, ending with a carnival. Forgive me for being ignorant of just what the carnival is about. Like I wrote, despite being ostensibly about explaining South American cultures to American audiences, Saludos Amigos doesn’t go into much depth.

Apparently, the carnival is an annual thing though. “Each year hundreds of songs are written especially for this occasion,” says the narrator, “and the dream of every composer is to have his song chosen as a Carnival hit. One number stood out as a perfect background for the first Brazilian film. Its author, Ary Barroso, has made use of the samba rhythm to paint a musical picture of his native land, Aquarela do Brasil, a watercolor of Brazil.” Naturally, the cartoon that ensues features an actual painting of Brazil. We see a giant paintbrush creating a Brazilian jungle and its inhabitants.

That water moves unusually sluggishly for Disney which usually did a good job animating water, but maybe that’s because it’s really supposed to be paint in this instance.

One of those inhabitants, or rather the lone tourist, is Donald Duck. There are some bits with him and the paintbrush interacting that are quite funny even if they do make me wish I were watching Daffy Duck in Chuck Jones’s masterpiece, Duck Amuck.

I love how Donald is inspired to try his wing at animation…
…only to be punished for trying to usurp his creator.

Donald meets Jose Carioca (Jose Oliveira), a character created specifically for this movie, who takes him out for a night on the town.

Jose’s stereotypically Latin temperament is a bit overwhelming for Donald but not enough for it to be particularly hilarious.

Like Fantasia before it and most of Disney’s anim-anthologies after it, Saludos Amigos comes to an abrupt halt at the end. An especially abrupt halt in fact. The movie clocks in at about 42 minutes. Yet it still feels long and somewhat boring.

The Three Caballeros (1944)

This movie’s framing material takes place against a plain dark background. I don’t know enough about animation to say whether this was done because it was somehow cheaper than a regular backdrop, but I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.[2]From what I understand, the Disney company was not exactly rolling in dough when it made these movies. I’ll try to explain in the next post. The movie begins with Donald Duck receiving a huge package of birthday presents from his friends in South America.

The first one he unwraps, which, unlike the others, isn’t from a specific country, proves to be a film strip of a “documentary” about rare birds. It consists of three parts. The first is a cartoon short about a penguin named Pablo who hates the cold and sets out on a perilous trek to the Galapagos Islands, which are part of the republic of Ecuador and so, I guess, count as South American.

If you’re wondering why I didn’t identify Pablo’s voice actor, it’s because he doesn’t have one. The only vocal work in this part comes from veteran Disney voice actor Sterling Holloway who narrates. He’s hilarious, though I’m not sure if this needed narration at all. The visuals do a great job of telling the story by themselves. I was pleasantly surprised by how many great gags there were here.

Like Pablo “running into” the equator.

We then shift to something closer to an actual documentary with narrator Frank Graham sharing facts about Latin American birds. It’s not nearly as much fun as what just preceded it, though there are a few amusing moments.

Like this scissortail bird using its tail as an actual pair of scissors.

It introduces the Aracuan bird who escapes from the screen and pops up once or twice later to annoy the other characters. He’s not very funny if you ask me.

The “rare birds” section of The Three Caballeros concludes with a story that turns out not to be about birds at all. A third narrator (Fred Shields again) tells of how when he was a Uruguayan gauchito he captured and tamed a winged burrito[3]As in little burro, not the food. and then illegally entered him in a horse race.

This short is more fun than the bird stuff that preceded it but not as funny as the Pablo part. The best bits involve the narrator, though I’m not sure how his being an older version of the protagonist squares with the ending. It’s interesting, to me anyway, that all the Disney anim-anthology movies share basically the same sense of humor yet vary drastically in how funny they are-and, for that matter, how funny different segments within the same movies are.

On the whole, the rare birds section of The Three Caballeros is probably the least weird part of it, which, considering that it involved a heat loving penguin and a flying donkey, should give you some idea of how crazy it gets.

The second present Donald opens is a popup book about Brazil. It opens to reveal a miniature Jose Carioca.

Jose sings a rather boring song about Baia which is accompanied by some equally uninteresting tracking shots of the state.

Then Jose splits into a bunch of clones and sings another livelier song about the same place.

The punchline to all this is that he’s never actually been there himself. But that can be remedied. He shrinks Donald down to his own size and the two of them board a train in the pop-up book. This leads to some interesting backgrounds evocative of chalk drawings.

But it also turns out to be unnecessary since what actually gets them to Baia is turning the pages in the book. Donald and Jose both try to flirt with singer Aurora Miranda, but to their annoyance a bunch of male samba dancers appear and steal their thunder.

I’m not kidding. At one point, Donald gets so mad he almost commits murder.

He eventually gets lucky after giving Miranda a bouquet.

Then the scene gets really weird as we see two of the dancers fighting[4]Or dancing? It’s hard to say. in silhouette who briefly turn into roosters and the very backgrounds come to life and join in the dance.

The song, Os Quindins de Yaya, isn’t particularly to my taste and the scene goes on far too long, but I have to admit parts of it are enjoyable.

I have to give the movie credit too. I thought it would forget that Jose and Donald had shrunk, but once they’ve emerged from the book, Jose shows Donald the magic trick for restoring them to their normal sizes. Donald initially bumbling it is actually the funniest part of the film.

I also love Donald interacting with a spotlight like it’s a physical prop.

Donald opens his third gift to reveal…well, it’s hard to describe. First, we get a parody of the Meet the Soundtrack part of Fantasia. Since Fantasia was understandably not a huge box office draw upon its release, I have no idea what the Disney animators were doing, parodying a movie they couldn’t expect audiences to recognize. But as a Fantasia fan, I’m sure grateful they did.

Then we meet Panchito (Joaquin Garay), a raucous rooster vaquero, who passes out sombreros and declares himself and the other two birds to be “three caballeros.”[5]I assumed caballero meant cowboy but, no, it apparently means gentleman or gallant.

Our newly dubbed heroes launch into the title song, which is something of a hidden gem, a catchy tune with clever lyrics. And the accompanying animation is also fun. But neither Panchito nor the unexpected Fantasia parody were actually Donald’s present. No, that turns out to be a big piñata. Donald is eager to crack it, but first Panchito explains about Mexican Christmas traditions and shows pictures of them.

I believe this and other images from this interlude are the work of Mary Blair, one of my favorite Disney artists of all time. They’re really not her best work, but I’m trying to accentuate the positive here.

Donald eventually smashes the piñata to reveal a plethora of Mexican paraphernalia[6]Wait. Mexico isn’t part of South America! including a giant guidebook. Panchito opens it and gives another lecture, this one on the history of the Mexican flag and Mexico City.

Another boring montage set to a boring song ensues, this one slightly alleviated by the influence of Mary Blair. Then the three caballeros hop aboard a magic serape and fly into the live action world of the guidebook.

Maybe if you’re interested in Mexican folk dancing, you’ll enjoy this little travel montage. I find it dull, though there is one aspect that can definitely be called interesting.

When writing about Fantasia, I argued that it represented a time when the Disney brand was less set in stone, and they could be a little more adult.[7]You could argue they’ve returned to that in recent years with the studio regularly releasing PG-13 movies, but the Disney brand still carries certain associations of fluffiness. Well, much the same can be said of The Three Caballeros where Donald is in a constant state of lust over live action women. All three of these birds are really, but especially him. Can someone more familiar with the character’s history tell me if this was always a part of his personality? It’s not so weird when it’s just Aurora Miranda, but in the Mexican section, it gets downright creepy. At one point, he drops in on a beach and starts harassing all the women. Maybe it’d be funny if they were animated or ducks, but, as it is, it’s just kind of off-putting. Jose and Panchito eventually have to drag him away.

Once outside the guidebook, Panchito turns the page to talk about Mexico City’s nightlife.

But instead of showing that, we get singer Dora Luz singing a song called You Belong to My Heart and Donald pursuing her. (See previous section.)

He searches for her through a surreal star scape, then through a surreal garden, all of which is spliced with surreal flashbacks of previous scenes. Note the frequent use of the word surreal.

I kind of love how bored Luz looks.

Then we get Donald dancing with Carmen Molina and a bunch of cacti.

Then, without any transition,[8]Maybe one was deleted., we see Panchito having a mock bullfight with Donald as the bull. Jose lights the dynamite attached to Donald’s “tail” which explodes into a firework display. In a nice touch, we end with the words “the end” in each caballero’s native language in the colors of their respective country’s flag.

It’s hard to pinpoint why I don’t love the “trippiness” of this finale, or the movie in general, when one of my favorite Disney animated movies is the polarizing Alice in Wonderland, which is also an episodic story full of surreal visual humor. I think it’s because Alice is a better character than Donald Duck, one who responds to her surroundings with a relatable mix of appreciative wonder and increasing impatience.[9]I wouldn’t say that Donald can’t ever be relatable but he’s not here. Plus, the surreal visual humor in Alice in Wonderland is simply funnier and the songs are more consistently great.

Conclusion

Their trip across the border may have given the people at Disney inspiration in that it gave them new things to animate, but it didn’t give them many good ideas about what to animate them doing. The question with these two movies is which is the bigger waste of time. The Three Caballeros is the longer and, in that sense, the bigger waste. But it also has more flair and more genuinely fun parts. Rewatching it for the purposes of this blog, I enjoyed it more than I remembered and if I had to choose one of these two films, would probably pick it. It’s true though that the boring and even annoying parts have longer to drag in Caballeros. I can definitely understand the position that however tiresome Saludos Amigos may be, at least it’s over quickly.

Fortunately, while not all of Disney’s anim-anthologies that followed would be great, they would all be better than these South American-themed ones.

To Be Continued

References

References
1 Now I’m really reminded of The Emperor’s New Groove!
2 From what I understand, the Disney company was not exactly rolling in dough when it made these movies. I’ll try to explain in the next post.
3 As in little burro, not the food.
4 Or dancing? It’s hard to say.
5 I assumed caballero meant cowboy but, no, it apparently means gentleman or gallant.
6 Wait. Mexico isn’t part of South America!
7 You could argue they’ve returned to that in recent years with the studio regularly releasing PG-13 movies, but the Disney brand still carries certain associations of fluffiness.
8 Maybe one was deleted.
9 I wouldn’t say that Donald can’t ever be relatable but he’s not here.
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Animation Station: Disney’s Anim-Anthology Movies Part 1

Warning: I’m having some trouble with images on my blog. But it seems to be only on my laptop that some are not appearing and even there only on Microsoft Edge. If you’re not seeing them, I encourage you to try a different browser since this series I’m starting is very image-driven. Thank you.

Does anyone reading this remember when I took a break from blogging about adaptations and did a series on Dreamworks’s four hand-drawn animated movies?[1]Well, of course, you don’t if you just stumbled on this blog today and aren’t a regular reader. I enjoyed that so much that I’m going to do another series on a group of animated films done by a major studio that differ from their most famous output. In this case, I’m going to be reviewing a series of Disney movies that are each an anthology of animated short films, mostly related to music somehow.[2]The Many Adventures of Winnie-The-Pooh is sometimes counted as one of these, but not by me since it’s a compilation of shorts that had already been made. None of them were originally intended … Continue reading There’s not really a good name for these movies. They’ve been called “package features,” but that makes them sound like they’re about the shipping industry, so I felt like they needed something catchier if I was to give them their own series. “Disney anthology movies” is accurate, but not really catchy either. “Disn-ology movies” makes them sound like they’re about a weird scientific study and “Dis-thology movies” is really confusing. For a while,”Disn-anthology movies” was the my best idea, but that doesn’t imply anything about them being animated, so, with the court’s permission, I’m going with “Disney anim-anthology movies.”

The most famous of these Disney anim-anthologies was easily the first one.

Fantasia (1940)

Fantasia has an interesting distinction among Disney’s animated movies in that it’s the one most likely to appear on Greatest Movies lists but also the one that the average moviegoer is least likely to watch or enjoy. I’m not fond of the distinction between critics and mass audiences since the average non-critic can be just as analytical and critical as the sternest professional critic[3]Just get a Star Wars enthusiastic started on the flaws of the prequels and sequels. and critics can be just as partial to relaxing and letting a spectacle wash over them. But to the extent that such a distinction exists, Fantasia is the type of movie that appeals to critics more than to the masses. I can’t say I entirely blame the masses. Large portions of Fantasia can be boring if the viewer isn’t in the right mood for it. That’s actually true of any movie or work of art, but especially for one like this. But I don’t blame the critics either. When the viewer, by which I mean myself, is in the mood, nothing hits the spot quite like Fantasia.

For those of you not in the know, the movie is an anthology of classical music compositions set to animated imagery, the idea is that these animated shorts are what someone might imagine when listening to the music, though I doubt anyone would specifically imagine these things. We begin prosaically enough in a shadowy live action concert hall with the orchestra tuning up. Deems Taylor, the film’s musical consultant, welcomes the audience and explains the premise of the movie.

I hate to start off with some criticism, but Taylor introduces each of the movie’s segments and, boy, does he not have much of a screen presence! Despite some playful humor injected into his speeches, he comes across as dry and boring and doesn’t convey the awesome power of either the classical compositions or the accompanying imagery at their best. What’s more annoying is that for some of the pieces, mainly The Rite of Spring and The Pastoral Symphony, he goes on and on, giving away practically every detail of what the viewer is about to see. Most of the segments are pretty self-explanatory and don’t need this. With Fantasia, Disney animation was trying to show that it could be Serious and Adult. But these introductions feel like they were created to tell viewers how Serious and Adult they were instead of actually being Serious and Adult as the main parts of the movie happily are. Worse, these parts of movie feel like they were created to make it Educational! To the extent that they add to the viewer’s enjoyment by explaining the intents of the composers and the twists Disney did on them, I wish this information could have been provided in a pamphlet handed out to theatregoers. But of course that would have been far too expensive and inconvenient. Anyway, on to the first segment.

Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor

We begin with conductor Leopold Stokowski ascending his podium and beginning to conduct the orchestra. (A conductor on a high place becomes a visual motif in the movie.) As he does so, colorful lights appear as if he’s conducting images as well as just music.

The first half of this part consists of silhouettes of the musicians, playing their instruments against colorful backgrounds.

Then it shifts into a series of abstract images, at first obviously corresponding to the individual instruments, then growing gradually more surreal before we’re brought back to reality and Stokowski. This is definitely one of the most potentially boring parts of the movie, especially if you aren’t already a fan of symphony music. There’s a long time where we just watch ordinary musicians playing against a strange background. And even when the abstract imagery starts, it’s debatable how engaging it is. Some of the images have a haunting evocative power.

Others just…are.

I feel that’s sort of the point though. This segment’s job is to give the audience a very basic example of the connection between music and imagery in this movie. It’s not trying to do much else. The risk in that is that the audience will be uninterested in something so simple. The art to it is that something so simple helps transition the audience into a state of mind in which they can easily accept more complex offerings of the movie’s bread and butter. As Deems Taylor explains, in one of the more necessary of his intros, this segment represents the mindset of an audience member during the first song in a concert. “At first, you’re more or less conscious of the orchestra…than the music begins to suggest other things to your imagination.” Seen from this perspective, the segment becomes an indispensable part of the viewing experience, though I doubt anyone would rank it as the best part. And the piece of music is so powerful and the imagery, at its best, so beautiful that I have to give it a thumbs up.

Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker Suite

This segment is basically a ballet, a ballet performed by tiny, weather-and-climate-controlling fairies, anthropomorphic flowers and mushrooms and a weirdly sexy goldfish.

Being a ballet, there’s not much that happens except for dancing and for many viewers, that’s going to get boring very quickly. When I’m not in the mood, I find it that way myself. But when I am in the mood, I love it. From the description I gave, you’d expect this part to be mainly cute. But that description drastically undersells the beauty of the visuals.

And there’s also a cleverness to the designs of the flower dancers beyond simple cuteness.

If nothing else, this segment is worth watching for a lovely moment when two windblown autumn leaves appear to be dancing with each other.[4]A much later and more crowd-pleasing Disney animated movie would do something similar with a pair of floating lanterns.

Basically, this is like a sunset or a mountain. You don’t watch it expecting a lot of action. You’re just supposed to stay still and marvel.

Dukas’s The Sorcerer’s Apprentice

If you’ve heard of any part of this movie, it’s this, the first segment to tell a story. In fact, I’m not even going to bother describing it.

I’m not sure it deserves that fame. Unlike most of the other segments, it’s not particularly unique or ambitious for a Disney animated short. The character animation is great but then Disney movies generally have strong character animation. The backgrounds are probably the least interesting in the movie, though their dark, cavernous beauty does serve to create an appropriately spooky atmosphere for the story.

But not standing out doesn’t make it not a great short. It’s basically just a great example of wordless visual storytelling. I admit I found the lack of humor in it a bit jarring on a first viewing, given that it stars a famous cartoon character, even if Mickey Mouse is considered the least funny of Disney’s trio of toon stars, Mickey, Donald and Goofy. But if you’re openminded about the idea of a Mickey Mouse short that’s not comedic, it’s pretty great.

Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring

I’ve heard this described as the most boring part of Fantasia. I don’t get that at all. For me, this is where the movie really starts to get great. It opens with a breathtaking tracking shot that takes us through the galaxy to a prehistoric Earth.

We see the evolution of the dinosaurs and their eventual extinction. The naturalistic animation of the gigantic lizards is awesome, and the combination of it with Stravinsky’s pounding, edgy music makes this easily one of the most exciting parts for me.

Readers who know me personally might question how I can enjoy this section of the movie so much when my religious beliefs are in conflict with the view of early history it portrays.[5]Others would argue they aren’t in conflict and that the parts of the Bible describing the creation of the world should be interpreted figuratively. I’d argue they don’t really line … Continue reading Well, for one thing, science itself has evolved since this movie’s release to the point that few modern scientists would regard this movie’s portrayal of evolution or Earth’s prehistory as strictly correct. (Even to the extent that Disney was trying to make something scientifically accurate, they weren’t going to let the scientific consensus get in the way of making something cool.)

Like this.

Another thing is that Fantasia feels like it’s representing different worldviews with its different shorts just as it represents different composers without really committing to any particular one. This segment portrays an atheistic view of the world. The Pastoral Symphony, which is coming up, portrays a pagan worldview and Ave Maria a Roman Catholic one. The Rite of Spring’s worldview is also a very bleak, dog-eat-dog one, with a lot of emphasis put on predation and the survival of the fittest.

And then of course, there’s the ending with the dinosaurs wandering around hopelessly before all going extinct, leaving only their bones, if that.[6]Apparently, at one point they wanted to end with early man finding fire, but this was deemed too controversial. I wonder if such an ending would have made the segment come across as more optimistic … Continue reading It’s not the happy ending we expect from Disney animation and it’s not alone among Fantasia’s segments in that.[7]The Sorcerer’s Apprentice ends with Mickey getting his butt swatted and The Dance of the Hours ends with what appears to be a symbolic representation of mass rape. Seriously. This is part of what makes Fantasia so fascinating for fans of Disney animation. It represents a time when Disney animation was less strictly family friendly and much of its subject matter is not what you’d expect from the studio. (Have I mentioned that there are topless women in this thing?) Even if you compare it to the two Disney animated features that came before it, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs and Pinocchio, it’s strikingly different from either of them. One wonders what kind of movies Disney would have made if Fantasia’s initial theatrical run had been more financially successful. Might they have eventually produced accurate adaptations of The Fox and the Hound, The Little Mermaid and The Hunchback of Notre Dame? The imagination boggles.

Meet the Soundtrack

After an intermission, we get an unusual, even for this movie, segment where Deems Taylor introduces the audience to a visual representation of Fantasia’s soundtrack, which changes shape based on the sound it makes.

It’s interesting but so similar in concept to the Toccata in Fugue segment that one wonders if it was really necessary. Maybe it should have actually replaced it since it’s the less slow of the two.

Beethoven’s The Pastoral Symphony

This segment shows a day in the life of classical mythic creatures living in the countryside. (It’s a rather inaccurate version of classical mythology that features plural cupids and pegasi, and centaurs as a two-sex race. I say that as an observation, not necessarily a criticism.) The visuals are much more recognizably Disney-esque than those of The Rite of Spring or even The Nutcracker Suite. Practically all the characters have round, squishy looking features, typical of Disney shorts, with an emphasis on cuddliness. Part of me wishes this short could have gone for something more epic and awe-inspiring in keeping with the grandeur of classical mythology.

More like this
Less like this

But just because I enjoy things like The Rite of Spring for their departures from a typical Disney aesthetic doesn’t mean I think the typical Disney aesthetic is bad. If that were my opinion, I probably wouldn’t have started this series in the first place. I actually find this to be one of the most charming sections of the movie. It’s filled with sweet little details.

While it’s not one of the plotty segments, there’s always something happening and moreover the characters always convey a specific emotion, unlike, say, the ballerinas in The Nutcracker Suite. This means it risks being boring far less than either that segment or Toccata in Fugue, even if I find those more interesting in the technical sense of the term. And hey, being deliberately cute doesn’t mean something can’t be emotionally powerful. This image of a mother unicorn desperately trying to shield her foals from a thunderstorm gets to me every time.

Speaking of images which raise strong emotions, this segment is mildly infamous for featuring a racist caricature which has since been edited out. I’m not normally in favor of editing out racist parts of old books and movies. But the image is both so ugly and so irrelevant to the scene’s main business that I’m grateful to Disney for removing it and allowing people to enjoy this part of the movie without cringing.[8]Two black characters, who couldn’t be edited out, remain. While their puffy lips are stereotypical, they’re not as bad as the cut caricatures and while they’re also subservient to a … Continue reading

What might still make some viewers cringe are this segment’s overly bright colors. Out of context, I find them too garish. But coming after the dark and gloomy visuals of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice and The Rite of Spring, not to mention the shadowy concert hall of Fantasia’s interstitials, I find them rather refreshing.

Ponchielli’s Dance of the Hours

I have to give credit to Deems Taylor’s introduction to this short for explaining exactly what it is-a ballet with different dancers representing the different hours of the day-without giving away that the dancers are goofy animals, making the following comedy even funnier.[9]Of course, I’ve just given it away, ruining the reveal, but I couldn’t find a way around it. I hesitate to describe this one much because to do so would give away the great visual gags. I’ll just say it’s really fun to watch. I particularly love the design of the hippo ballerina.

Mussorgsky’s Night on Bald Mountain/ Schubert’s Ave Maria

After two lighthearted and stereotypically Disney-esque segments, we get something dark and dramatic for the finale. It’s actually two segments combined in one. Night on Bald Mountain features Chernabog, the Slavic god of darkness, who lives in the titular mountain and awakens one night of the year to summon lost souls and demons to dance for him torturously.

The grotesque imagery is masterfully horrifying. I’m not knowledgeable enough about animation techniques to know what effect they used to give the ghosts that chalky, not-quite-there look [10]The same thing is used in The Rite of Spring for foam and volcanic fumes. but I love it.

And the facial expressions of Chernabog are magnificently ugly, both completely mirthful and palpably evil and unappealing.

Eventually, the forces of evil are rendered impotent and sent back to sleep by the ringing of a church bell. As the sun rises and Ave Maria plays, a group of candle carrying pilgrims makes their way through a wood. It’s a very pleasant segment but it feels kind of anticlimactic. I’d have preferred something bigger and more eye catching to balance out the horrific bombast of Night on Bald Mountain. Then again, the very peacefulness of the scene makes for a good contrast to what just preceded it. No one would call Night on Bald Mountain soothing after all. And while Ave Maria’s visuals may not be as arresting, they have a definite beauty too them. I love the way the backgrounds subtly and not so subtly suggest a gothic cathedral.

Part of me still wishes the movie could have ended on a more awesome note (no musical pun intended) but maybe I’m just ridiculously demanding considering that it ends with an image of the rising sun.[11]Apparently, at one point the Madonna and Child were going to appear but, again, this was decided to be too potentially controversial.

With that, Fantasia rather abruptly ends. I know this sounds crazy considering what I wrote earlier about Deems Taylor, but the movie spends so much time with him and with the orchestra that I feel they should have gotten a proper goodbye. Not only do we see the orchestra getting ready at the beginning, but we see them exiting the concert hall for the intermission, returning afterwards and having a fun little jam session. It seems like we should see them pack up at the end to complete the full concert experience.

Conclusion

So is Fantasia a masterpiece? Well, as I wrote about Les Misérables (2012), if a masterpiece is defined as a flawless work of art, perhaps not. (And if you read a lot of positive reviews of this movie, you’ll notice that its fans are willing and capable of criticizing parts of it.) But if a masterpiece is work of art the flaws of which are rendered inconsequential by its strengths, then I say yes! It’s not a movie for everyone but for its fans, it delights in ways little else does. Neither Disney nor American animation would ever make anything quite like this again.

Or would they?

To Be Continued

Bibliography

Culhane, John. (1983) Walt Disney’s Fantasia. New York: H. N. Abrams.

References

References
1 Well, of course, you don’t if you just stumbled on this blog today and aren’t a regular reader.
2 The Many Adventures of Winnie-The-Pooh is sometimes counted as one of these, but not by me since it’s a compilation of shorts that had already been made. None of them were originally intended to be part of the same film. It is an adaptation though and an interesting one, so I might actually like to do a blog post about it one day.
3 Just get a Star Wars enthusiastic started on the flaws of the prequels and sequels.
4 A much later and more crowd-pleasing Disney animated movie would do something similar with a pair of floating lanterns.
5 Others would argue they aren’t in conflict and that the parts of the Bible describing the creation of the world should be interpreted figuratively. I’d argue they don’t really line up with the scientific consensus whether you interpret them that way or not. Symbols have to mean something after all. Suffice to say that there are counterarguments to those arguments and more counterarguments to those…I don’t have space to do justice to everyone’s worldview and it’s not what I want to write about in this post.
6 Apparently, at one point they wanted to end with early man finding fire, but this was deemed too controversial. I wonder if such an ending would have made the segment come across as more optimistic or if it would have left viewers thinking that just as the dinosaurs were once on top, now mankind is and there’s no reason to believe it’ll last any longer.
7 The Sorcerer’s Apprentice ends with Mickey getting his butt swatted and The Dance of the Hours ends with what appears to be a symbolic representation of mass rape. Seriously.
8 Two black characters, who couldn’t be edited out, remain. While their puffy lips are stereotypical, they’re not as bad as the cut caricatures and while they’re also subservient to a Caucasian character, that character is Bacchus, the god of wine and revelry, not some random white person.
9 Of course, I’ve just given it away, ruining the reveal, but I couldn’t find a way around it.
10 The same thing is used in The Rite of Spring for foam and volcanic fumes.
11 Apparently, at one point the Madonna and Child were going to appear but, again, this was decided to be too potentially controversial.
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As You Like It (2006) Merits Some More Love

For Valentine’s Day this year, I’m going to look at a cinematic production of one of Shakespeare’s most romantic comedies, As You Like It. The ironic and impressive thing about the play is that basically all of its most memorable quotes about romance and marriage take a cynical view yet it makes the audience cheer without a second thought as the leads get married in the end. In a way, it’s the most daring and triumphant demonstration of the power of love in all of Shakespeare.

Of course, in many ways As You Like It is not a great play. On paper, it’s rather a sloppy one. It begins with a very dramatic situation. A noble duke has been overthrown by his younger brother and banished along with his loyal followers. His daughter, Rosalind, has been allowed to remain at court but as her uncle descends into paranoia, he banishes her too and her cousin, Celia, flees with her in solidarity, along with the court Jester, Touchstone. Rosalind’s crush, Orlando de Boys also must leave his home due to the jealousy of his older brother. But once all the characters establish themselves in the idyllic forest of Arden, the play pretty much becomes nothing but schtick and the occasional soliloquy. The only complications with the romance between the disguised Rosalind and Orlando are how long it will take for her get tired of trolling him and reveal herself and how they’re going to find a priest to marry them. One of the villains is improbably redeemed offstage. Another character is randomly mentioned in the play’s first moments and then forgotten only to show up at the last second and announce that the other villain has been redeemed too, resolving the story. It’s like Shakespeare was making the thing up as he went along.

But there are reasons this is considered a great play, mainly its fun cast of characters and its many great quotes. It tends to fall flat in retellings, but in performance, with charismatic actors and beautiful scenery, music and costumes, it’s a delight.[1]In this way, it can be seen as the comedic equivalent of Hamlet, which sounds like a ridiculous story in retellings and needs to be performed to be compelling. As You Like It is more about creating an atmosphere than about storytelling and creating an atmosphere is something at which director Kenneth Branagh’s 2006 movie version excels. It may not be the masterpiece that is his Much Ado About Nothing, but it’s far better than his Love’s Labour’s Lost.

Branagh reimagines the story as being about English merchants in Japan during the latter part of the nineteenth century. This is rather random as the original play took place in neither England nor Japan but in France, but, as I wrote above, As You Like It was always rather a random play. It looks pretty and that was doubtless the point. It also sounds pretty too thanks to Patrick Doyle’s musical score. It’s a rather soporific soundtrack but I consider that appropriate for this unusually laid-back Shakespearean comedy. All of the casting is wonderful and, as is the norm with Branagh productions of Shakespeare, everyone delivers their artificial and iconic lines as if they were things that just popped into their head. Bryce Dallas Howard as Rosalind is especially great at this. I’ve heard some critics opine that Rosalind doesn’t feel like as major a character in this movie as she should be, but I don’t see that at all. True, there’s no way anyone would be fooled by her male disguise in real life, but it’d be unreasonable to expect an actress to be luminously beautiful, entertainingly cheeky, have great chemistry with her costars, speak Shakespeare like it’s her native tongue and be a convincing boy.

Branagh does a great job restructuring As You Like It to work as a movie. He begins with a gripping wordless scene of Duke Frederick (Brian Blessed) attacking his brother (also Brian Blessed)’s court, which establishes nearly all of the characters and their relationships to each other. You could argue this scene is a bad choice for setting the tone of this non-action movie, but I’d argue that was always a problem with As You Like It. It’s not like there was never any action in it, such as the wrestling match between Orlando de Boys (David Oyelowo) and the mighty Charles (Nobuyuki Takano.) The movie also shows another action scene that was only described in Shakespeare as it would have been difficult to stage.

This As You Like It deals with the dramatic problems of the text about as well can done, short of rewriting the whole story. The offstage “old religious man”[2]Sadly, I can’t find who plays him. who plays such a pivotal role in the resolution is wordlessly introduced here in early scenes. Branagh and the actors lay the groundwork for the redemptions of Frederick and Orlando’s brother, Oliver (Adrian Lester), making them sympathetic whenever they can, though they do miss a trick. In Frederick’s first scene from the play, Shakespeare wrote him as being initially friendly toward Orlando, only becoming hostile upon learning that he’s the son of an old enemy of his. Blessed however comes across as brooding and menacing from the start. Still, when the villains do show vulnerability, they do so compellingly. And the final scene has a touching moment between Celia (Romola Garai) and her father, original to this version.

Jacques (Kevin Kline), the Eeyore of Arden, is portrayed more sympathetically here than in the original play. Not that he was ever a really negative character, but the movie takes his philosophizing more seriously. His accusation that the banished duke by hunting deer is as much a usurper as his brother, which in Shakespeare was laughed off as pretentiousness, is given some weight here. Rosalind and Orlando still run verbal rings around him in their conversations though.

The dysfunctional romance between Touchstone the jester (Alfred Molina) and Audrey the goatherd (Janet McTeer) is made less potentially unpleasant here by the addition of slapstick humor.[3]In Shakespeare’s culture, bearbaiting was the norm, so it should be no surprise that his comedy was occasionally meanspirited. Audrey may not be able to retaliate verbally when Touchstone insults her, but rather than simply not understand him, she responds with physical force-an area where she easily bests him.[4]The slapstick also arguably serves to distract from a curious quirk of Shakespeare’s comedies: the malapropisms and “chop logic” of their clowns are less funny than the banter of … Continue reading I don’t understand why this adaptation makes Audrey another refugee from the court rather than an Arden native when the whole point of her relationship with Touchstone is that they’re from incompatible worlds, but oh well.

Another thing I don’t understand is the new implied backstory for Corin the old shepherd (Jimmy Yuill), giving him the power to perform marriage ceremonies. This allows to him take on the roles of Sir Oliver Mar-Text, the priest of questionable credentials, and Hymen the classical god of marriage. It’s a combination of characters that makes no thematic sense considering that the whole point of Sir Oliver is that no wedding ceremony he performs would be binding and Hymen is the one who ultimately marries all the couples. The motivation behind the change seems to be that Corin is an admirable character and Yuill an admirable actor and the more of them, the better. I can understand that.

If there are any characters whom the adaptation really lets down, they’re the dysfunctional shepherd couple, Silvius (Alex Wyndham) and Phebe (Jade Jefferies.) (I’d like to stress I’m talking about the script here, not the actors. It’s a pity this is Jefferies only IMDB credit.) Because most of Phebe’s arrogant and disdainful lines have been cut, Rosalind’s criticism of her comes across as overblown. And the device by which their plotline is ultimately resolved is harder to follow because of some other cut lines. I can sympathize with the pacing reasons behind those cuts though.

One of my favorite touches of this As You Like It is how it sets nearly all the scenes at the dangerous court at night and nearly all the scenes in the idyllic forest during the day. The exceptions to this are a scene in Arden where a reference to Diana, “thrice-crowned queen of night,” demands it and the final scene where all the all exiles are allowed to return home.[5]Sorry for giving that away, but you knew a play like this would have a happy ending, didn’t you? Seeing the hitherto dark and gloomy halls be flooded with bright sunshine makes for an especially joyous end to this most joyous of Shakespeare movies.

References

References
1 In this way, it can be seen as the comedic equivalent of Hamlet, which sounds like a ridiculous story in retellings and needs to be performed to be compelling.
2 Sadly, I can’t find who plays him.
3 In Shakespeare’s culture, bearbaiting was the norm, so it should be no surprise that his comedy was occasionally meanspirited.
4 The slapstick also arguably serves to distract from a curious quirk of Shakespeare’s comedies: the malapropisms and “chop logic” of their clowns are less funny than the banter of their semi-serious lovers. The exceptions that prove this rule are, of course, the “rude mechanicals” of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
5 Sorry for giving that away, but you knew a play like this would have a happy ending, didn’t you?
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Ramona and Beezus: A Surprisingly Good Adaptation

This post is dedicated to the memory of my family’s cat, Winston, who sadly passed on this week. That may seem random, but watch the movie and you’ll see why it’s appropriate.

I wasn’t the biggest fan of children’s author Beverly Clearly growing up. She has accurately been described as a pioneer of realism in juvenile fiction and I had little or no use for realism. As you can probably discern from the stories about which I choose to blog, my taste runs toward the comedic, the fantastic and the melodramatic. I saw no point in reading books about modern day middle class American kids like me dealing with parents, teachers, siblings, peers, etc. Why read about what I could experience every day?

Yet for all that, I kept returning to Cleary’s series about young Ramona Quimby. I think even then, I was impressed by the psychological believability of fiery, gung-ho Ramona and her more practical older sister, Beezus (Beatrice.)[1]Though, of course, I wouldn’t have used the phrase “psychological believability” at the age I first read the books. And as an adult and a would-be author myself, I’ve developed a respect for realism, though it still isn’t my favorite thing to read. To write something that feels exactly like it could happen in real life is an awesome balancing act, one I could never do.

I was not impressed by the trailers for the 2010 movie, Ramona and Beezus, which looked like they turned the Ramona books into a lowbrow kids’ comedy. But intrigued by some positive, though not glowing, reviews, I gave it a watch and I’m happy to say that it’s an affectionate and honorable adaptation. Not an ideal adaptation, mind you, but hey, as the final book in the series, Ramona’s World, reminds us, nothing is perfect, but things can still be pretty great.

I won’t sugarcoat it. This movie does a lot of the things fans of the books might fear.[2]For non-fans these probably won’t register as faults and may even be attractions. The cast is more Hollywood-attractive than they should be. In particular, it’s rather ridiculous for Selena Gomez’s Beezus to be worried about her hair.[3]Incidentally, while Beezus is a major figure in the movie, there’s no reason why she should have get title billing, and I have to assume it was because of Gomez’s relative star power. I give Ginnifer Goodwin as the girls’ Aunt Bea a pass since she was specifically described as young and pretty in the books. Dialogue is quippier than in the books and less like regular people talking. Feel-good moments are sappier and also feel less real. And there’s a sprinkling-just a sprinkling-of slapstick. Perhaps most irritating for adult Beverly Cleary enthusiasts, Ramona’s believable maturity/immaturity level is compromised. This is partly an inevitable side effect of the movie taking various episodes from a series that begins with Ramona starting kindergarten and ends with her turning ten and fitting them all into one story where she’s nine.[4]Actually, the literary Ramona was technically introduced as a pesky preschooler and supporting character in an earlier series of books by Cleary before she got one to herself. For example, it’s unlikely that a nine-year-old would do such a poor job explaining to her teacher (Sandra Oh) and classmates about the new addition to her family’s house.[5]In the movie and in the book, Ramona the Brave, where she’s six, she unintentionally makes it sound like a bunch of workmen randomly came to her house and made a big hole in it. But not all of it can be chalked up to the compressed timeline. In the book, Ramona and her Father, Ramona briefly considered making a lemonade stand to help support her financially struggling family, but quickly dismissed the idea as unprofitable. In Ramona and Beezus, not only does she actually try to sell lemonade, but she uses her great-grandmother’s crystal. This makes Ramona less astute at nine years old than she was at seven in the books.

What makes this forgivable for me is Joey King’s wonderful portrayal of the character, which captures the essence of Ramona at every age of her childhood. It’s hard for me to define that essence in words, but King does it with her performance. Maybe it’s that while her comedic timing is perfect, she never lets on that she thinks of her character as being funny. Ramona clearly sees herself as very dignified and is bewildered and offended when adults laugh at her. King even kind of looks like Ramona in this movie with her short brown hair!

I described the movie’s inclusion of so many episodes from different books as a problem but it’s also a strength. The sheer number of memorable incidents from the series that make their way into the movie really give the impression that the screenwriters, Laurie Craig and Nick Pustay, were fans. Occasionally, a major source of drama from the books, such as Grandma Kemp (Janet Wright) telling Ramona to be careful around young Willa Jean (Ruby Curtis) when Willa Jean is clearly the one who deserves a scolding or Ramona pulling the hair of her least favorite classmate, Susan (Sierra McCormick), pops up as an undeveloped bit of randomness in the movie. I suppose that’s technically a flaw, but for me it adds to the by-fans-for-fans vibe. My first viewing was actually something of an edge-of-my-seat experience as I could see Ramona about to walk into disasters I remembered from the books. And the script generally does a good job restructuring the material. Mr. and Mrs. Quimby (John Corbett and Bridget Moynahan) reading Beezus’s glowing report card and Ramona’s not so glowing one was originally part of the climax of Ramona the Brave, but it makes for an excellent early scene here to establish the family dynamic.

If you’re a longtime fan of the Ramona books, the Q on that mailbox should delight you.

The main parts of the movie that aren’t from the books are the romantic subplots. In Ramona Forever, Aunt Bea’s romance with Hobert Kemp (Josh Duhamel), uncle to Ramona’s friend, Howie (Jason Spevack), happened “offpage.”[6]Speaking of Howie, his personality in this movie is pretty much nothing like it was in the books. Here he has more in common with Yard Ape. (Yes, there was a character called Yard Ape in the books.) … Continue reading Here they have a checkered romantic past. An analytical adult viewer unfamiliar with the books, who really isn’t the movie’s target audience, could probably guess that this part of the film is an addition since the scenes between Bea and Hobart are the only ones shown entirely from the perspective of adults. Otherwise, the movie is true to Cleary in that we only see them from the kids’ point of view but can infer quite a bit about them from that. I don’t love this new subplot, but I do enjoy how it adds to the drama for Ramona as she is gratified that her beloved aunt is initially as annoyed as she is by Hobart’s teasing and then feels betrayed when Bea accepts his proposal.[7]Ramona being annoyed by Hobart and being saddened by Aunt Bea moving far away comes straight from the books, but it plays out far more dramatically here.

More eyebrow raising for longtime Cleary fans is the romantic tension between Beezus and her friend, Henry Huggins (Hutch Dano.) Henry was actually the lead in Cleary’s first series of books for young readers. He was a friend of Beezus, but they were not, I repeat, not an item.[8]Of course, they were also just kids. By the time, Cleary got around to writing about Beezus’s first boy-girl party in Ramona’s World, a party which ended up amusingly unsexy by the way, … Continue reading The movie’s Henry has almost nothing in common with the literary Henry Huggins.[9]At least I don’t think he does. I wasn’t as into the Henry books growing up as I was the Ramona books. I remember the Ramona-heavy Henry and the Clubhouse being the best of them. But on their own terms, he and his interactions with Beezus are appealingly awkward and non-heart throbby.

The movie indulges in some fantasy scenes showcasing Ramona’s vivid imagination. I think these would actually be funnier if they looked less goofy and I suspect that, like the romances, they were included partly for marketability purposes. But I appreciate the concept of conveying life as experienced by an imaginative nine-year-old. And at least one such scene, where an overheard comment about the possibility of the bank taking the house gives Ramona the mental image of a giant crane carrying away her home, leaving her family stranded, is pretty inspired.

This brings me to something I really appreciate about this adaptation. Ironically, I feel like the best way to lead into it is to describe a scene from the books that it doesn’t adapt. At one point in Ramona and her Father, the Quimby family’s cat eats their jack-o-lantern. Beezus blames her parents for not buying the cat food he likes.

“Beezus, dear,” said Mrs. Quimby, “We simply cannot afford the brand of food Picky-picky used to eat. Now be reasonable.”

Beezus was in no mood to be reasonable. “Then how come Daddy can afford to smoke?” she demanded to know.

Ramona was astonished to hear her sister speak this way to her mother.

Mr. Quimby looked angry. “Young lady,” he said and when he called Beezus young lady, Ramona knew her sister had better watch out, “Young lady, I’ve heard enough about that old tom cat and his food. My cigarettes are none of your business.”

Ramona expected Beezus to say she was sorry or maybe burst into tears and run to her room. Instead, she pulled Picky-picky out from under the table and held him to her chest as if she were shielding him from danger. “They are too my business,” she informed her father. “Cigarettes can kill you. Your lungs will turn black, and you’ll die! We made posters about it at school. And besides, cigarettes pollute the air!”

Ramona was horrified by her sister’s daring and at the same time she was a tiny bit pleased. Beezus was usually well behaved while Ramona was the one who had tantrums. Then she was struck by the meaning of her sister’s angry words…

Ramona ends up being the one to cry over the unusual tension in her family and the new possibility of her father’s death. Her parents try to comfort her with assurance that they’ll get a new and better jack-o-lantern, leading her to wonder, “Didn’t grownups think children worried about anything but jack-o-lanterns? Didn’t they know children worried about grownups?”

While Ramona and Beezus seldom gets as dramatic as that, it understands that children do worry about grownups. It conveys the difficulties of growing up with adult problems that you don’t totally understand all around you as well as kid problems that the adults around you don’t necessarily understand. As sunny as the movie is, far too sunny to take place in Portland, Oregon, scenes of Ramona being humiliated in front of her class or some of the sharper arguments she has with her sister can really make you wince. But the movie is also true to the books by showing how a loving family, however imperfect, can help make this all bearable and how even clueless or otherwise annoying adults can have a kid’s back. And if this ends up feeling a bit more touchy-feely than the books do and a bit sillier, a bit more kid pandering and a bit more parent pandering, a bit too polished and tidy and Hollywood…well, like I said, I was never really a fan of realism.

References

References
1 Though, of course, I wouldn’t have used the phrase “psychological believability” at the age I first read the books.
2 For non-fans these probably won’t register as faults and may even be attractions.
3 Incidentally, while Beezus is a major figure in the movie, there’s no reason why she should have get title billing, and I have to assume it was because of Gomez’s relative star power.
4 Actually, the literary Ramona was technically introduced as a pesky preschooler and supporting character in an earlier series of books by Cleary before she got one to herself.
5 In the movie and in the book, Ramona the Brave, where she’s six, she unintentionally makes it sound like a bunch of workmen randomly came to her house and made a big hole in it.
6 Speaking of Howie, his personality in this movie is pretty much nothing like it was in the books. Here he has more in common with Yard Ape. (Yes, there was a character called Yard Ape in the books.) Since I was never a huge Howie fan, I’m fine with this.
7 Ramona being annoyed by Hobart and being saddened by Aunt Bea moving far away comes straight from the books, but it plays out far more dramatically here.
8 Of course, they were also just kids. By the time, Cleary got around to writing about Beezus’s first boy-girl party in Ramona’s World, a party which ended up amusingly unsexy by the way, Henry was already out of the picture.
9 At least I don’t think he does. I wasn’t as into the Henry books growing up as I was the Ramona books. I remember the Ramona-heavy Henry and the Clubhouse being the best of them.
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A Christmas Carol (2009) Stave IV: The Insanity Peaks Before It Ends

The silent Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come (Jim Carrey) is actually portrayed as Scrooge’s shadow-or rather Scrooge’s shadow transforms into it. At first, I found this somewhat anticlimactic. (Does Scrooge really fear this specter more than any he’s seen so far? Didn’t he notice the giant laughing skeleton?) But the subtle creepiness of it grew on me and it is nice to see this adaptation being subtle about something.

Of course, the spirit doesn’t stay a flat shadow. After Scrooge urges it to hurry up and get this haunting over, it leaps off the floor, knocking him backwards. Scrooge falls through the wooden floor and tumbles down the stone steps of…OK, I haven’t written about this so far, but it’s about now that I’m really starting to get sick of how this Scrooge keeps falling over. It’s really not that funny. Anyway, he lands at the bottom of the steps of the London Stock Exchange in the future where he invisibly overhears some gentlemen (Cary Elwes, Paul Blackthorne and Julian Holloway) talking about how someone has died recently, and they really don’t care. They fade away as the day turns into a dark and still night. While I really don’t like what’s going to happen next, I have to give this moment credit for eeriness.

A giant shadow of a horse-drawn carriage (or possibly a hearse) appears against the pillars of the building. The horses’ heads turn revealing themselves to be fearsome, red-eyed monsters. The ghost points at Scrooge and the horses and carriage leap into three dimensions and tear after him.

As Scrooge runs down an alley, the driver cracks his whip and either the alley grows bigger or Scrooge grows smaller. Other spooks try to reach out from the sides and try to grab him, cackling.

Yeah, this is the nadir of the movie.

I once wrote that I didn’t mind adapters doing things like adding actions scenes to Dickens stories since Dickens was always a popular writer.[1]I’ll admit I was mainly thinking of the way the 1982 Nicholas Nickleby adapted the arrest of Squeers and the 2002 one adapted John Browdie’s rescue of Smike. But A Christmas Carol is one Dickens book where that simply doesn’t make sense. Or if there is a way it could make sense, this isn’t it. While the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come is definitely meant to be scary, he’s not a villain. His goal is to help Scrooge, not kill him. If you’ll pardon me for stereotyping, I suspect the people who mainly watch action movies and for whom this scene was created are the kind of people who wouldn’t appreciate the surreal storytelling and lack of clear character motivation.

I guess you can say this visual represents Scrooge trying to escape his own mortality. But what’s the symbolism behind him shrinking? As far as I can tell, it was done so his voice could get all high and chipmunk-y because that guarantees hilarity. (Please note my sarcasm.) I will say there’s a great moment when tiny Scrooge briefly seems to have escaped the death carriage, only for it to come barreling out from around a corner. Before running away, Scrooge gets an irritated look on his face and squeaks in disgust, “oh, come now!”

That moment perfectly summarizes my reaction to this scene.

Scrooge ends up sliding down a drainpipe and over a rooftop. The scene drags on and on and would you like to know what’s really horrifying about it? It was almost even longer. To confirm this, check out the deleted scenes. There’s one at least for whose deletion I am truly grateful.

Anyway, Scrooge falls into a sack that a woman, Mrs. Dilber (Fionnulla Flanagan), brings into Old Joe (Bob Hoskins)’s rag and bone shop. As the two of them unpack the contents, we learn that she is selling the bedcurtains and clothing of her recently deceased employer, who died alone and unloved with no one to prevent such theft. While there were three thieves in the book, this adaptation manages to include all the most horrifying and hilarious lines from the scene. Unfortunately, it’s hard to see why Scrooge would be paying attention to this crucial dialogue while he’s busy navigating the world the size of a mouse.

The scene ends with Old Joe noticing a rat on the floor and trying to hit it with a poker, almost flattening Scrooge in the process. He upends a floorboard, catapulting Scrooge across the room. He is caught by the hand of the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come (sort of) and comes out the other side in a room in a completely different building. Scrooge returns to his normal size, making me wonder yet again what the point was of it changing in the first place, and tells the spirit he understands that his life tends the same way as that of the mysterious dead man. Under the circumstances, shouldn’t Scrooge be demanding why the ghost was just chasing him in a terrifying death carriage a little while ago? No, that never comes up.

But I can’t criticize the adaptation too much at this point because we now get an awesomely spinetingling scene from the book that often gets cut.[2]The 1984 and 1999 movies are among those that keep it. Scrooge finds himself in a dark bedroom with no one in it except a corpse covered by a sheet. The spirit gestures for Scrooge to look at its face.

A nervous Scrooge first requests to see anyone who feels emotion at the man’s death. The ghost points at a wall, which then opens up into a portal. As with Christmas Present, I don’t understand why Scrooge has to be physically present for some things and just watches others on ghostly television. But, again, this is a scene that is far too often omitted by adaptations.[3]The 1999 movie does it very well. Scrooge sees a poor couple (Callum Blue and Fay Masterson) who owe the dead man money[4]I don’t know why I’m being so coy about his identity. and are relieved that the payment will now be delayed long enough for them to get the necessary amount.

In the book’s words, the man’s face had “a kind of serious delight of which he felt ashamed and which he struggled to repress.”

Desperate, Scrooge demands to see some tenderness connected to death. Suddenly, he is seated on a stairway in the Cratchit home sometime earlier in the future. He witnesses the family grieving in the room below and gets a glimpse of Tiny Tim’s corpse in the room above. Everyone’s acting is great in this scene. At least, their vocal performances are great and I assume the rest of their acting is too. But this is one those scenes that I don’t think motion capture does very well. In particular, there’s a moment where Scrooge comes face to face with the devastated Bob Cratchit. Clearly, his face is supposed to be conveying something highly dramatic, but I honestly can’t tell what.

Afterwards, Scrooge asks about the identity of the man he saw lying dead. The floor gives way beneath him (because we obviously needed more of Scrooge falling) and he plummets down into a snowy, stormy graveyard at night. The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come is looking a lot more like how I imagined this adaptation would portray him.

E.G. Terrifying.

The ghost points at a gravestone and snow instantly blows off it, revealing the name, Ebenezer Scrooge. Scrooge promises that he’s not the man he was and begs for another chance. (Jim Carrey’s performance really is good here.) As he speaks, the snow beneath his feet starts to give way like quicksand. Scrooge finds himself holding onto a root, dangling over his own grave. An open coffin lies at the bottom, illuminated by a hellish red light.

I’m not a huge fan of this since, while mortality is definitely a theme in this part of the story, a careful reading of the text shows that what Scrooge really fears is not death itself (after all, he’s going to die eventually whether or not he persists in his miserly ways) but, like Marley, never being able to turn his life or public perception of him around. An immediate threat of death distracts from that crucial point.

But what really disappoints me about this scene is its lack of craziness. I can name at least four other Christmas Carols that do some version of this falling-into-the-grave scenario.[5]They are Mickey’s Christmas Carol, the 1970 musical, Scrooge, the 1988 parody/homage, Scrooged, and the 1999 movie adaptation. The flying see-through floor in the Christmas Present section of the movie may have been ill-advised and the death carriage chase scene downright stupid, but they were also things that no other Christmas Carol had ever done. To climax with something so unoriginal feels like a letdown.

The spirit leans down over Scrooge and as lightning flashes, we get a glimpse of its face.

Scrooge cringes but continues pleading for help. The ghost pries Scrooge’s fingers off the root and lets him fall. This bothers me since Dickens portrayed the previously impervious phantom as wavering and pitying Scrooge at this point. But, on reflection, that could still be true in this version since you can, if you wish, interpret Scrooge’s fall as what causes him to wake up in his own bed on Christmas morning.

And by “in his own bed,” I mean, “dangling from his own bedcurtains.”

Here’s a quick point by point replay of the next few scenes.

In a borrowing from the 1951 movie, Scrooge sees Mrs. Dilber and terrorizes her with his newfound joy. It’s not as hilarious as the longer one in that movie, but it’s pretty fun.

Scrooge buys a huge turkey for the Cratchits and sends it anonymously. Afterwards, he hitches a ride on the back of a carriage just as he sneered at two boys for doing at the beginning of the movie.

As he walks down the street, Scrooge meets one of the charity collectors from the night before and gives him a generous donation.

Scrooge gets another interaction with the carolers at whom he glared seven years ago. It’s actually one of my favorite bits that’s not from the book, so I won’t spoil it.

There’s a nice twist to Scrooge attending his nephew’s party. He shows up at an extremely awkward moment and it briefly looks like his reception will be cold before everyone rushes to embrace him.

The reason I’m skimming through all this, besides the fact that this series has gone on longer than anyone cared to read it, is there’s really not much to say about this part of the movie. Nothing is really wrong with these scenes and even quite a bit right about them, but because the film has treated Scrooge like a punching bag for so long, they don’t pack the emotional punch they should.

After Scrooge gives Cratchit a raise the next day, Bob directly addresses the camera with some closing narration even though no character has done anything like that prior to this. Not that I have anything against narration, especially when it draws from Dickens, but the movie had been doing a fine job of telling the story without it.[6]I mean it’s had plenty of problems but none of them were due to the lack of a narrator. It’s like it just got lazy at the end.[7]I think a really clever and creative ending for A Christmas Carol adaptation would be to show an adult Tiny Tim visiting Scrooge’s grave at Christmas, confirming that he was able to change his … Continue reading We close with the iconic image of Scrooge carrying Tiny Tim on his shoulder. Again, rather generic for such an inventive adaptation, but after the wackiness of that crazy chase scene and the incredible shrinking Scrooge, you could argue that’s a relief.

I probably watch this movie every December which is probably way more than it deserves. But I don’t think it deserves to never be watched at all. If nothing else, I’d say it’s better than Robert Zemeckis’s other mocap Christmas movie, The Polar Express, and while I haven’t seen his other attempt at adapting a classic of English literature with motion capture, Beowulf, nothing I’ve heard about it leads me to believe it’s better than A Christmas Carol.[8]Though I will give Beowulf credit for having the brains to adapt something that actually lends itself to an action movie. And while more psychologically driven cinematic retellings have come closer to the heart of the story, there’s something to be said for one that focuses on surreal and fantastic imagery, a major aspect of the book that some previous adaptations didn’t have the technology to reproduce even if they’d tried to do so. It’s true that this movie has some of the stupidest moments in any Christmas Carol adaptation, but, in my opinion, it also has some of the best moments.

Merry Christmas, everybody!

References

References
1 I’ll admit I was mainly thinking of the way the 1982 Nicholas Nickleby adapted the arrest of Squeers and the 2002 one adapted John Browdie’s rescue of Smike.
2 The 1984 and 1999 movies are among those that keep it.
3 The 1999 movie does it very well.
4 I don’t know why I’m being so coy about his identity.
5 They are Mickey’s Christmas Carol, the 1970 musical, Scrooge, the 1988 parody/homage, Scrooged, and the 1999 movie adaptation.
6 I mean it’s had plenty of problems but none of them were due to the lack of a narrator.
7 I think a really clever and creative ending for A Christmas Carol adaptation would be to show an adult Tiny Tim visiting Scrooge’s grave at Christmas, confirming that he was able to change his future. Nobody, steal this!
8 Though I will give Beowulf credit for having the brains to adapt something that actually lends itself to an action movie.
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A Christmas Carol (2009) Stave III: Visual Creativity and Missed Opportunities

As the clock strikes one again, Scrooge sees light coming from the adjoining room and hears the sound of booming laughter. He opens the door to the find that his house has been redecorated and that the Ghost of Christmas Present (Jim Carrey) is seated on a mountain of holiday food.

Apart from Marley, Christmas Present is the ghost whose physical appearance most closely matches his description in the book. The script even calls attention to the detail of him wearing an empty scabbard. This is the opposite of subtle but, in all fairness, I never thought of the scabbard’s significance prior to watching this movie.

While this spirit may look just as Dickens described him, the movie arguably tries to make him a little creepy in a way the book didn’t. There’s something subtly unnerving about the way he constantly laughs whether there’s anything to be jovial about or not.

Unlike some adaptations, such as the 1951 and 1984 movie versions, which have Scrooge be a more reluctant convert, this one follows the book by having him humbly tell the ghost to conduct him where he will. The spirit dangles the cord of its robe for Scrooge to clutch and its edible throne magically lowers itself. Then we get one of the movie’s most interesting improvisations. The floor beneath them becomes transparent[1]I kept expecting Scrooge to fall through it at some point of this scene but surprisingly he doesn’t. and the upper story seems to rise off the building and fly across town, giving Scrooge a look at Christmas Day. (In a great little bit of continuity original to this adaptation, Scrooge briefly sees the boy (Ryan Ochoa) whom he will send to get a turkey for the Cratchits when he experiences this day again in real time.)

I’m not sure if this visual actually serves the story. Having the ghost be above the Christmas revelers rather than on the same level with them means we lose the idea that the presence of Christmas is what allows these people to be so joyful despite their bleak surroundings and circumstances. On the other hand, this scene is fun to watch, it gets points for creativity and unlike some other…creative aspects of this adaptation, it’s not totally stupid. At least there’s some clear symbolism as Scrooge is seeing things from a larger perspective than usual. It’s not just weird looking for weirdness’s sake. And the scene gets credit for including a rousing nondiegetic chorus of Hark! The Herald Angels Sing, my favorite traditional carol and one which arguably relates thematically to the story of A Christmas Carol as it mentions sinners being reconciled to God. I kind of wish they could have included lyrics from the second verse rather than just repeating the first. Were they deemed too religious for a secular movie? If so, this seems like a weird choice of song to include at all.

Speaking of religion, this movie includes an interesting bit from the book cut by every other film adaptation.[2]Some audio drama versions may include it but if so, I can’t remember which ones. As they fly over a bakeshop, Scrooge accuses the spirit of hypocrisy. In Dickens’s day, bakeshops traditionally allowed poor people without ovens of their own to use theirs. Certain Christians advocated these shops being closed on Sundays. The ghost sternly tells Scrooge that some people “do their deeds of ill will and selfishness in (my) name” and are “as strange to me and my kin as if they had never lived.” I’m always excited when a Christmas Carol adaptation includes something usually omitted, but I have to say this inclusion doesn’t make a lot of sense. How many modern viewers even know what Scrooge and the ghost are talking about here?[3]The movie tries to make the meaning a little clearer by having the ghost refer to “men of the cloth,” though the clergy weren’t necessarily the only ones advocating businesses being … Continue reading Of course, modern viewers also aren’t going to be familiar with debtors’ prisons or union workhouses, and the word, “treadmill,” brings to their minds an exercise tool[4]though some may still regard it as an instrument of torture, and I’m sure no fan of the book would want references to those things to be cut. Still, it seems rather random to include what amounts to a(n eloquent) disclaimer on Dickens’s part while not showing things that are more relevant to the business of the scene like how the spirit of Christmas helps people put aside their quarrels, temporarily at least. That being said, it is an interesting moment and I’m not one to criticize a Christmas Carol movie for being too true to the source material.

The bakeshop provides a nifty transition to the next scene. The young Cratchit twins (Ryan Ochoa and Samantha Hanratty) walk by it and smell their goose cooking inside or believe they do anyway. The two of them rush home, but the ghost beats them there and sprinkling incense from his torch on the roof, allows Scrooge to see through it (and the upper floors.) I really like the character designs for the Cratchits, who, true to Dickens’s description, are “not a handsome family” but are “happy, grateful, pleased with one another and contented with the time.”

Tiny Tim and Mammoth Martha

The actors are all great too. This Bob Cratchit really manages to sell his line about Tiny Tim (Gary Oldman) wishing for people to notice his disability to remind them of “who made lame beggars walk and blind men see,” something which can across as treacly on the page or on the screen.[5]Weirdly, The Muppet Christmas Carol actually might have done the best job of selling that line. What makes it work is the way Bob’s voice breaks and the pained expression on his wife (Lesley Manville)’s face. Clearly, neither of them really believes their youngest son is ever going to walk or even live another year.

Unfortunately, this scene of the Cratchit family’s Christmas is way too rushed. We don’t even really see them eat their meal. They just sit down to it and drink a couple of toasts. As I wrote in my last post, this movie doesn’t focus much on scenes of partying, which were arguably the heart and soul of the book. Part of it may be that the filmmakers were reluctant to add to Dickens’s dialogue as slower paced adaptations of this scene must. While I doubt anything with which they came up would be better than what Charles Dickens would have written, breezing through the scene is to be false to the book in another way. As it is, it’s hard to understand why Scrooge would suddenly care about this family so much.

Somewhere in this house, by the way, there’s actually a historical picture of a young Charles Dickens. Less explicably, there’s also a historical picture of Jane Austen, who was from an earlier time period. I guess these Cratchits are just really into literary satire.

There are some nice touches though. Mrs. Cratchit gets a line about wishing the children might taste a turkey one day, setting up Scrooge giving them a giant one later. And the spirit’s reaction when Scrooge tries to slink away during Mrs. C’s rant against him is hilarious.

Scrooge begging for Tiny Tim to be spared is moved from the middle of the scene to the end of it. When the ghost throws his words about decreasing “the surplus population” back in his face, the movie takes advantage of the characters being played by the same actor and has his face and voice briefly morph into Scrooge’s.

The book had a great “montage” here of Scrooge and the ghost flying over the world, seeing poor miners, lighthouse keepers and men at sea celebrating Christmas. It’s cut from adaptations fairly frequently[6]Though the 1999 movie does justice to it beautifully., but its absence here is really frustrating since it would have fit in perfectly with this movie’s rollercoaster aesthetic and gone a good way toward making up for this section of the film’s shortcomings.[7]Sure enough, if you check out the deleted scenes, you’ll find that such a scene was planned and filmed. Instead, the Ghost of Christmas Present whirls his torch around his head and transports himself and Scrooge to the latter’s nephew’s Christmas party. (Why do the see-through floor thing for some of Christmas Present but not all of it? Your guess is as good as mine.) The nephew rags on his uncle, but ultimately expresses pity for him and wishes him well. This scene gets trimmed even more than the last one, which is more common for adaptations, but unfortunate since there’s a case to be made that it was even more crucial to Scrooge’s character development in the book.

More Easter Eggs. One of the paintings on the wall looks like it might be an older Charles Dickens. And the woman in the painting below just might be his wife, Catherine Hogarth.

Then Scrooge and the spirit are inside a clocktower. It’s about to strike midnight which will mean the end of the Christmas holiday and the ghost’s life. (The movie’s done a great job of having him age throughout the preceding scenes.) Scrooge notices a claw poking out from his robe. The ghost pulls it back to reveal two grotesque feral children, the personifications of Mankind’s Ignorance and Want (Ryan Ochoa and Samantha Hanratty.)

Scrooge asks if they don’t have anyone to help them. Those familiar with this scene from the book, or other adaptations that include it, will remember that at this point the ghost, again, throws Scrooge’s previous words back at him. Will this movie redo its old trick of having the spirit look and sound like Scrooge for these lines? No. Whatever else can be said against it, this Christmas Carol is too imaginative for that, and we get one of its best visual flourishes. Ignorance himself gets the line about prisons and as he says it, he transforms into a dangerous looking man (Kerry Hoyt) wielding a knife who gets locked in a cage. Want gets the line about workhouses and transforms into a hysterical woman (Julene Renee) who gets put in a straitjacket and dragged away.

Not only is this really freaky, but it shows the filmmakers thought about the historical context of Dickens’s writing and social commentary. I’m not sure if it was necessary though to have the Ghost of Christmas Present turns into a skeleton and disintegrate, laughing all the time.

Given how this adaptation is amping up the horror elements of the original book, I’m very intrigued at this point to see what they’ll do with the third and scariest ghost. Turns out what they do is both too much and not enough.

Next Week: The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come Makes Scrooge Feel Small.

References

References
1 I kept expecting Scrooge to fall through it at some point of this scene but surprisingly he doesn’t.
2 Some audio drama versions may include it but if so, I can’t remember which ones.
3 The movie tries to make the meaning a little clearer by having the ghost refer to “men of the cloth,” though the clergy weren’t necessarily the only ones advocating businesses being closed on Sundays back then.
4 though some may still regard it as an instrument of torture
5 Weirdly, The Muppet Christmas Carol actually might have done the best job of selling that line.
6 Though the 1999 movie does justice to it beautifully.
7 Sure enough, if you check out the deleted scenes, you’ll find that such a scene was planned and filmed.
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A Christmas Carol (2009) Stave II: Well-Done Moments and Random Weirdness

Scrooge awakens to the sound of the clock chiming one-the very time his first ghostly visitor is supposed to arrive. In the book, he actually awakens at twelve and is shocked since it was two when he went to bed and the sky is still dark. The pacing purposes for which this was cut are very understandable, but the omission is still somewhat unfortunate since it establishes that Scrooge is now and for most of the story outside of time somehow. Without this, The Ghost of Christmas Present showing him Christmas Day, which should technically have already happened, and him later going back and experiencing that exact same day are a bit confusing.

In the book, when the Ghost of Christmas Past appears, its hand specifically draws back the curtains in front of Scrooge’s face. Here various curtains are drawn apart and a searchlight of sorts shines through, searching for Scrooge before finding him. I’m not really sure what the point of that change was. It strikes me as making the spirit less intimidating. I guess Robert Zemeckis wanted to build anticipation for its appearance.

Christmas Past (Jim Carrey) is the spirit who looks the least like Dickens described it by a long shot. In keeping with the giant candle snuffer it carries, its robe suggests a giant candle and its head is a flame hovering over it. This was probably inspired by the way the book describes this ghost’s shape as flickering “being now a thing with one arm, now with one leg, now with twenty legs, now a pair of legs without a head, now a head without a body.” [1]The 1971 animated short directed by Richard Williams is one of the only adaptations that has tried to capture this. Watching it, I can understand why most don’t. I don’t think anyone would really argue that this improves on Dickens’s description, but I don’t dislike it. I do dislike Carrey’s vocal performance as this particular spirit though. His attempt to make it sound “singularly low as if instead of being so close beside (Scrooge), it (was) at a distance” basically consists of sounding overly breathy. After introducing itself, the ghost floats backwards out of the room, only to reappear at the opposite side of Scrooge’s bed as if it’s gone all the way around the world. It’s weird and random but I don’t dislike it. Then it does a weird little dance, not like this movie suddenly turned into a musical[2]Given some of what we see, that might actually happen!, but like it just wanted to dance for some reason. It’s weird and random and I do dislike it.

Speaking of music, you can hear the tune of O Come All Ye Faithful or Adeste Fidelis on the soundtrack as the spirit introduces itself. This is the first, I believe, of several traditional carols used as background music in the movie. They all work very well.

As the spirit firmly takes Scrooge’s hand and leads him toward the window, we see it rise and, in a nice touch, the night outside turn to day. Scrooge and the spirit fly over across a snowy wood. This is different from the book where they are transported instantly, and it’s obviously done to include more action and eye candy. But I don’t mind. In fact, I enjoy it. Unlike some of this adaptation’s other attempts to add action and eye candy to the story, this one at least makes sense.[3]Could it have been an homage to two other Christmas Carol adaptations that Disney has produced (hint: one casts Bob Cratchit as a mouse, the other as a frog) which also have Scrooge and the Ghost of … Continue reading

Scrooge is overcome with emotion when they arrive at the village where he spent much of his childhood and when he invisibly observes his old schoolmates heading home for the holidays. Then he and the spirit fly to his dark and dank schoolhouse where they find Scrooge as a boy all alone, glumly staring out a window and half-heartedly singing Venite Adoremus. The contrast between him and the other boys we just witnessed laughing and merrily singing Here We Come A-Wassailing is great. This is easily the most emotionally powerful moment in the movie and when the young Scrooge frowns, we get a brief foreshadowing of his later bitterness, something no other adaptation I can recall has.

The spirit then shows another, later Christmas. A teenaged Scrooge is surprised by the appearance of his younger sister, Fan (Robin Wright Penn), who ecstatically tells him that their father has had a miraculous change of heart and that he (Scrooge) is finally to come home. The ghost gently reminds Scrooge that when she died, Fan left behind a child-Scrooge’s nephew whom he treated so coldly recently. After the really well-done emotional moment we just had, this one feels too fast paced and underwhelming, especially considering how important it should be for both Scrooge and the audience. (He’s reminded that he once loved somebody, and we realize he was even capable of that at some point.) Part of the problem may be the young Scrooge’s reaction to seeing his sister after what’s apparently at least a decade is strangely calm. (Maybe he can’t believe her news.)

The ghost and the (present) Scrooge have another flying scene, this one across London at night, before arriving at the warehouse where Scrooge was apprenticed. There’s a nice acting moment for Jim Carrey where we hear Scrooge laugh for the first time. His former master, Fezziwig (an underused Bob Hoskins), tells the younger Scrooge and his fellow apprentice, Dick Wilkins (Cary Elwes), to clear away the desks for a giant Christmas party he’s throwing. The movie cuts to that party-or rather the Ghost of Christmas Past does-where we see Fezziwig dancing with his wife (Jacquie Barnbrook.) Dickens described Mrs. Fezziwig as being a very capable dancer and this adaptation, in another bit of random weirdness, shows her twirling like a top and rising into the air for a moment. If the movie’s animation were more often cartoony, this might have been fun, but combined with the realistic movements of motion capture technology, it’s just awkward.

I really wish this scene of the party were longer and in particular that we got more of Scrooge’s reaction to it. This Christmas Carol generally lingers more over action scenes than party scenes. If you ask me, someone who doesn’t want to linger on a scene of joyful partying has no business adapting A Christmas Carol.[4]It’s frustrating to check out the movie’s deleted scenes on Disney+ and see that a bit was cut of the spirit using reverse psychology on Scrooge. And they actually put a decent twist on … Continue reading On reflection though, the scene is actually of a fairly reasonable length. It’s just that nearly all of the focus is on Past-Scrooge meeting and dancing with a beautiful young woman named Belle (Robin Wright Penn.) It’s common for Christmas Carol adaptations to introduce her at this point in the story. (In the book, we first meet her when she’s breaking up with Scrooge and their entire relationship is left for us to infer.) This one is a bit unusual in that there’s no dialogue between the characters, the filmmakers perhaps realizing they couldn’t compete with Dickens when it came to that. Everything is meant to be conveyed through Scrooge and Belle’s eyes. I don’t think it works that well, live action being better than motion capture for that kind of acting and traditional animation arguably being better than either. Still, the music is lovely.

The spirit takes us to a later Christmas-without any flying this time-when Belle ends her engagement to Scrooge on the grounds that he’s changed so much that he’d never be happy marrying a penniless girl like her. The design for the Scrooge we see in this time is a perfect halfway point between the younger one at Fezziwig’s and the old and pinched looking one we met at the beginning of the movie. Much the same can be said of Jim Carrey’s performance. Part of me wishes the script hadn’t removed the character’s elaborate sarcasm about the “evenhanded dealing of the world” which made him more interesting and arguably appealing in a weird way. Presumably, Zemeckis felt modern audiences wouldn’t be able to understand it. Then again, he also kept the slang term, “walker,” so it can be hard to guess what the reasoning was.

Robin Wright Penn, meanwhile, is outstanding in this scene, delivering Dickens’s stagy dialogue[5]I’m not criticizing the source material here. It’s meant to be stagy. with perfect ease and just the right emotion. In this moment at least, her portrayal of the character is my favorite.[6]And it’s not like she’s the only actress to do a great job with this scene. Lucy Gutteridge in the 1984 film and Lucy Fraser in the 1999 one are also wonderful. But the first movie … Continue reading

When I praise her performance, I’m mostly talking her vocal one. I never quite know how to judge physical motion capture performances.

Incidentally, the book had a final vision of Christmas past where Scrooge saw Belle celebrating with her loving husband and their many children while Jacob Marley, the closest thing he had left to a friend, lay dying. This was almost included in but ultimately cut from the movie. Part of me wishes it had stayed since I love it when Christmas Carol movies include scenes that are often cut.[7]The 1984 one is among those that include that particular bit. But another part of me agrees with the filmmakers that it wouldn’t really have fit in with the movie’s pace.

What it does include from the book is Scrooge looking at the Ghost of Christmas Past’s face and seeing “fragments of all the faces it had shown him.”

This is a highly cinematic detail that hardly any Christmas Carol movies feature. Actually, this is the only one I can remember that does. I think the faces flicker by too fast for them to really register, but I give this adaptation a thousand kudos for the attempt.

Another thing from the book is an angry Scrooge clamping the ghost’s extinguisher cap over its head in a vain attempt to put out its light. What’s not from the book is that after he seems to have succeeded, the cap rockets up into the night sky with Scrooge before disintegrating into what looks like fairy dust. In what looks like it might be a visual reference to E.T.: Extra-Terrestrial, Scrooge flies past the moon before plummeting down onto the floor of his bedroom back in the present.

Um…what?

The literary Christmas Carol certainly isn’t lacking in surreal images but every one of them means something. For example, Scrooge wrestling with the Ghost of Christmas Past obviously represents his wish to forget painful, guilt inducing memories. What exactly was that little flight into space supposed to symbolize? I’d make a joke about the filmmakers being drunk or on drugs, but the sad thing about that little bit of action is that it was too complex and well put together for that to have been the case. Some people must really have thought it was a good idea. Ah, well. I’ll admit the scene made me laugh though I’m not proud of that. And at least it was short unlike some additions to the story that we’ll see in Christmas Yet to Come.

Next Week: Scrooge Gets a Lift From the Ghost of Christmas Present.

References

References
1 The 1971 animated short directed by Richard Williams is one of the only adaptations that has tried to capture this. Watching it, I can understand why most don’t.
2 Given some of what we see, that might actually happen!
3 Could it have been an homage to two other Christmas Carol adaptations that Disney has produced (hint: one casts Bob Cratchit as a mouse, the other as a frog) which also have Scrooge and the Ghost of Christmas Past fly like this?
4 It’s frustrating to check out the movie’s deleted scenes on Disney+ and see that a bit was cut of the spirit using reverse psychology on Scrooge. And they actually put a decent twist on the book’s dialogue!
5 I’m not criticizing the source material here. It’s meant to be stagy.
6 And it’s not like she’s the only actress to do a great job with this scene. Lucy Gutteridge in the 1984 film and Lucy Fraser in the 1999 one are also wonderful. But the first movie portrays the character as angry where in the book she’s sad and the second one arguably cheats by updating the dialogue.
7 The 1984 one is among those that include that particular bit.
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A Christmas Carol (2009) Stave I: A Fairly Promising Start

This Christmas, I’ll be doing something different on The Adaptation Station. I’ll be going through one particular adaptation, analyzing it scene by scene. I’m not doing it because I love Charles Dickens’s 1843 novella, A Christmas Carol in Prose Being a Ghost Story of Christmas, more than the source materials of many of the other things I’ve covered on this blog. There are plenty I love equally. Neither is Robert Zemeckis’s 2009 animated adaptation one of my favorite retellings of the story[1]Its official title is Disney’s A Christmas Carol to distinguish it from all the other Christmas Carol movies, but Zemeckis’s A Christmas Carol gives you a better idea of what to expect … Continue reading, though I do find it interesting. Hopefully, it’ll be interesting enough to benefit from the longer format. I hope readers enjoy this because I’d love to give some other movies this treatment. But naturally, those who haven’t seen this film yet and wish to avoid spoilers are also going to want to skip this series. Now that I’ve got that warning out of the way….

The movie’s first moments are pretty great, establishing the atmosphere of A Christmas Carol-or rather its two contrasting atmospheres, which might be called the Merry and the Scary. First, jolly, joyous music is heard on the soundtrack, and we get a beautiful of image of a well-to-do Victorian Christmas.

Then the music grows ominous as the camera pans down to a copy of A Christmas Carol. It flips open and we zoom in on the haunting (no pun intended) first words, “Marley was dead.” Then the page turns, and we’re confronted with an illustration of the man himself, a corpse with a bandage wrapped around its head, lying in a coffin.

The illustration dissolves into reality or rather into animation. The dead man’s business partner, Ebenezer Scrooge (Jim Carrey) signs the certificate of death, which is the first thing we’re told the character does in the book, so that’s pretty great adaptation.

I kind of love Scrooge’s handwriting. It looks just how I’d imagine it based on his personality.

Scrooge’s interactions with the undertaker (Steve Valentine) and his young apprentice (Daryl Sabara) do a great job of establishing his cold, miserly character and are quite entertaining in their morbid humor.

I’ve put off talking about the animation long enough. I don’t really like mocap animation. At least not for entire movies. There have been many live action ones that used it for individual characters with great success, but I’m not sure if there’s ever been a great movie entirely animated with motion capture. There’s always something about the human character’s faces that distracts me. That being said, I don’t hate it as much as many seem to do. And the movie’s backgrounds are quite beautiful. The character designs are also wonderfully Dickensian, that of Scrooge himself being a case in point, though I noticed some of them getting reused on a number of the background characters.

A quirk of Robert Zemeckis’s mocap movies is that they tend to have small casts with each actor playing multiple roles. I don’t really understand the point of this. Is it just cheaper that way? Do fewer actors balance out the cost of the technology itself or something? Is it just to show off the range of each member of the cast? Or is it something they do just to show that with motion capture they can?

Anyway, Scrooge leaves the undertaker and makes his way down the streets of London, stopping to silence some carolers with a look and scoff at some boys hitching a ride on the back of a carriage and, in a great nod to the book, scaring away a seeing eye dog.

As the opening credits roll, we get a montage of the city. The swooping, zooming cinematography makes it transparent that this movie was meant to be in 3D, but honestly, I love it. The soundtrack by Alan Silvestri is the best of any Christmas Carol movie in my experience. And the scene does a great job of establishing the cultural milieu of Charles Dickens. I especially love the vignette of the boys begging by the Lord Mayor’s house. It’s a bit weird though to spend so much time establishing the world seven years prior to the story’s main events.[2]The 1999 made-for-TV Christmas Carol starring Patrick Stewart does the same thing by the way.

Cut to “seven Christmas Eves later,” Scrooge is counting money at his office while his poor clerk, Bob Cratchit (Gary Oldman) rubs his hands together for warmth and looks longingly at the coal box and the key to it on Scrooge’s desk. Scrooge’s nephew (Colin Firth) enters to invite him to Christmas dinner the next day with his wife. The two of them debate the merits of the holiday. After the nephew departs, two gentlemen (Cary Elwes and Julian Holloway) enter, asking for a donation to help the poor and needy. Scrooge coldly replies that the “surplus population” have the prisons and workhouses to take care of them. (The way Scrooge casually dangles the charity collectors’ credentials over a candle, nearly burning them, is a great little touch.) If you’re wondering why I’m summarizing so much of this, it’s because the dialogue in this scene is very close to the book, all but word for word. Since I love the book, I also love it and if you’re not a fan of the material, well, I’m sure you know enough not to bother with this movie at all. The acting ranges from good to great. At least, I think it does. It’s hard for me to judge mocap performances. Personally, I wish Colin Firth had been Scrooge. It seems like a role in which I’d be much more interested in seeing him. But it’s not as if he’s bad as the nephew or as if Jim Carrey were bad as Scrooge.

Here’s an example of the movie reusing character designs. The grocer who appears at the end of the movie (with the giant turkey for the Cratchits) looks just like the guy on the left.

After Scrooge begrudgingly gives his clerk the next day off and locks up for the night, a jubilant Bob slides down the hill “in honor of its being Christmas Eve,” another fun little detail from the book. I didn’t think much about him wiping out and landing on his butt on my first viewing, but in retrospect, it’s a sign of things to come. Meanwhile, Scrooge arrives at his effectively creepy house.

On the doorstep, Scrooge drops his key. “Alter it!” he grumbles, an amusingly appropriate curse as the doorknocker in the frame with him at the moment is about to undergo a transformation. “Why do these things always happen to me?” he says after stooping down to retrieve the key. He doesn’t yet see what the viewer does: that his doorknocker has been replaced by the face of his deceased partner, Jacob Marley. Apart from its eyes being shut, it looks much as the book describes.

“It was not in impenetrable shadow as the other objects in the yard were, but had a dismal light about it, like a bad lobster in a dark cellar. It was not angry or ferocious, but looked at Scrooge as Marley used to look: with ghostly spectacles turned up on its ghostly forehead. The hair was curiously stirred, as if by breath or hot air; and, though the eyes were wide open, they were perfectly motionless. That, and its livid colour, made it horrible; but its horror seemed to be in spite of the face and beyond its control, rather than a part of its own expression.”

Well, it doesn’t seem like part of its own expression in the movie at first. Then after Scrooge has stared at it for a little bit and reached out to touch it…

I’ve come to the realization, by the way, that I don’t really like jump scares in movies, mainly because once you figure out the concept, you start to expect them right before they happen which ruins the whole point. Being a character rather than a viewer though, Scrooge is effectively freaked out and falls backwards on the steps. When he looks up, the knocker is back to normal. Scrooge enters the house, lights a candle and makes his way up the stairs.

Again, this movie’s backgrounds are great.

The movie includes the details of Scrooge, slightly on edge, double locking the door to his bedroom and checking the lumber room. Sadly, it doesn’t include Marley’s face reappearing in every image on the tiles around the bedroom fireplace. I don’t know why so few movies include that detail, given how cinematic it is and how often A Christmas Carol has been and continues to be adapted for the screen.[3]The 1984 and 1999 films are among the few. As in the book, as Scrooge sits by the fire and eats gruel, all the service bells in the room begin to ring of their own accord, the noise growing to a thunderous clamor and after they’ve died down, Scrooge hears the sound of chains being dragged on the floor up the stairs and down the hall to his room. In your average Christmas Carol, these chains would be accompanied by pounding ominous music. Here they’re heard against a background of complete silence. The music only returns when the chained ghost of Marley (Gary Oldman) comes through the door. It works very well.

In general, Marley’s creepiness is highly effective. The way his eyeballs never quite look at Scrooge until they roll slightly down in their sockets is a great gross touch, though his spittle flying at Scrooge[4]In 3d! is pretty stupid. The dialogue, in which he tells Scrooge how he (Marley) is doomed to wander the world in torment for eternity as punishment for the missed opportunities of his life and how the three spirits who will haunt Scrooge over the course of the next few nights are his only hope of escaping the same fate, is very faithful to the book. Unfortunately, there’s one really dumb part of this otherwise exemplary scene. At one point, as in book, the bandage around Marley’s face is removed and his jaw drops open. What’s not in the book is the attempt at comedy as Marley is unable to talk with a detached lower jaw and has to try to hold it up as he speaks. Not only is this not funny but the Zemeckis inexplicably chose to have it when Marley gives one his most pivotal speeches.

“Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!”

Why would you want the audience to be distracted during those words is beyond my imagination. Finally, Marley readjusts the bandaging, and you think the dumb joke is going to die, but no. He’s now rendered himself unable to speak and has to readjust it again. Let’s just say Marley’s eyes weren’t the only ones rolling at that point.[5]To be fair, there was always a bit of grim humor in the way Dickens described Marley taking off the bandage “as if it were too warm to wear indoors.” The 1999 movie strangely decides to … Continue reading

As Marley departs out the window, his chains wrap around Scrooge’s chair, pulling it after him before vanishing. Scrooge leans out the open window and gets a glimpse of the spirit world.

This movie has the most emotionally intense depiction of the ghosts who, like Marley, “sought to interfere for good in human matters and had lost the power forever.” Dickens writes that Scrooge “had been quite familiar with one old ghost” crying over a homeless woman with an infant. That seems to be the case here, as Scrooge’s screams grow even louder when it looks up to face him. It flies towards the window, but Scrooge races to his bed and pulls the curtains shut. Right before he does so, we see the window close and the phantoms outside it disappear. It’s an imperfect but fairly promising start to the movie.

Next Week: The Ghost of Christmas Past is on Fire. Literally.

References

References
1 Its official title is Disney’s A Christmas Carol to distinguish it from all the other Christmas Carol movies, but Zemeckis’s A Christmas Carol gives you a better idea of what to expect from it.
2 The 1999 made-for-TV Christmas Carol starring Patrick Stewart does the same thing by the way.
3 The 1984 and 1999 films are among the few.
4 In 3d!
5 To be fair, there was always a bit of grim humor in the way Dickens described Marley taking off the bandage “as if it were too warm to wear indoors.” The 1999 movie strangely decides to play the moment for laughs rather than horror too, though it works better there.
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When Ebenezer Scrooge Met Frosty the Snowman

Note: I’ve been having unexpected trouble with this blog lately. For some reason, half the images in this post and in some other posts aren’t showing up, at least not on Microsoft Edge. They do seem to be visible on Google Chrome so please use that. The post will make much more sense if you do. If I ever figure out the problem, I’ll fix it.

Television producers Jules Bass and Arthur Rankin Jr. and novelist Charles Dickens are inseparable from the Christmas season in many people’s minds. But few know that they actually collaborated a couple of times.

Well, OK, that’s not exactly true. For one thing, I mean by “collaborated” that Rankin and Bass made two specials, animated in the same style as their Frosty the Snowman, adapted from Charles Dickens. And while Dickens may be inseparable from Christmas in people’s minds, it’s mostly because of one novella he wrote, the immortal A Christmas Carol in Prose. Of his four other “Christmas Books,” only one of them (The Haunted Man and the Ghost’s Bargain) actually has to do with Christmas[1]The Chimes is actually about New Year’s. and none of them are as great as Carol. All of them are written in basically the same style and it’s a wonderful style, but A Christmas Carol is the only one to have a completely satisfying story. As for Rankin/Bass Christmas specials, they’ve definitely defined the holiday for some past generations, though I don’t know if they’re doing so for the current one.

I’ll be honest. I’m much more of a Dickens fan than I am a Rankin/Bass fan. Not that I hate them or anything, but even as a kid, I felt like How the Grinch Stole Christmas and A Charlie Brown Christmas were funnier and had more interesting stories. Still, there’s a place for completely innocent, sincere television aimed at the youngest viewers and it can be amusing to see how crazy Rankin and Bass can be when stretching out the plot of a simple little jingle to make a roughly hour-length story. I mean, who would have guessed that the little drummer boy hated humanity because his parents were brutally killed by Roman soldiers?[2]Didn’t it occur to him that his parents were humans themselves? Wouldn’t it have made more sense for him to just hate Romans? Or that Rudolph had already proved that his shiny red nose was an asset before that foggy Christmas Eve by using it to defeat an abominable snow monster, gaining him the respect of the other reindeer and rendering the main part of the song redundant? Christmas puts me in a forgiving mood, and I’ll usually watch some of these specials when it comes around. (Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town is probably the best of them.) And I was interested to see how Rankin/Bass would taste when mixed with the flavor of an equally iconic but very different titan of Christmas entertainment.

So, without further ado….

Cricket on the Hearth (1967)

This special begins with the narrator, Crockett Cricket (voiced by Roddy McDowall), telling how he first came to live at the house of humble toymaker, Caleb Plummer (Danny Thomas.) On that very day, he witnessed Caleb’s daughter, Bertha (Danny’s daughter, Marlo) bidding a tearful farewell to her betrothed, Edward Belton (Ed Ames), who is joining the navy.

Years later, the Plummers receive word that Edward has been lost at sea. Bertha goes blind from shock(?) and Caleb loses all his money taking care of her. Eventually, his only choice is to accept a miserable position working for evil toy magnate, Tackleton (Hans Conried, entertaining as always.) Caleb takes advantage of Bertha’s blindness to convince her that their wretched new home is actually “splendid” and that their new employer is a kind man-which unfortunately makes her susceptible to Tackleton when he proposes marriage to her.

If you’re familiar with Charles Dickens’s 1845 book, The Cricket on the Hearth, which most people aren’t, you’ve already noticed that this special takes huge liberties with the plot. (The credits actually describe the thing as being “suggested by the story of Christmas by Charles Dickens.”) This version of Bertha Plummer is actually a combination of two different characters from the book, the main protagonists of which, John and Mary Peerybingle, don’t appear here at all. That story was mainly about underlying tensions in a seemingly blissful marriage and whether or not the wife was going to cheat on her older husband-none of which made it into this adaptation. In some ways though, this Cricket on the Hearth is darker and more stereotypically “Dickensian” than the literary one. It shows the Plummers’ fall into poverty and their grief over Edward, which were all in the backstory in the book, in some detail. The messenger (Paul Frees) who brings them the bad news is ridiculously ominous too.

There are even three characters who die though they’re all villains.

Oh, yes. About that…

The cricket in Charles Dickens’s Cricket on the Hearth wasn’t actually a character, so much as a symbol. The sound of its chirping gave comfort and wisdom to the good characters who listened to it, helping them through the most difficult times. The villainous Tackleton, on the other hand, saw its chirping as a nuisance to be “scrunched.” Crockett Cricket, in this animated special, is a character with human intelligence who actively tries to help Caleb and save Bertha from a terrible marriage. And he’s not the only anthropomorphic animal in the story. Tackleton has a corvine sidekick, Uriah Crow (Paul Frees again), whom he orders to get rid of Crockett when the little insect starts to interfere with his plan. There’s actually an entire tavern for talking animals where Uriah goes to hire some assassins and where we hear a feline chanteuse (Abbe Lane) sing about fish and chips.

Seriously.

A plot point about toys briefly coming to life at midnight on Christmas Eve isn’t from the source material either but it sounds much more like a Victorian children’s fantasy and if I hadn’t read the book, I would have assumed it came from there.

Cricket on the Hearth (1967) is hardly a classic. The reimagined story is kind of a mess. The songs are almost all boring and there are a lot of them. But I can’t find it in my heart to actually dislike it. Like most of Rankin/Bass’s oeuvre, it’s likeable in its corniness. And the combination of Dickens’s sensibility with theirs is…interesting if not always successful. I kind of admire it for not having Bertha’s eyesight be miraculously restored in the end.[3]Compare this to The Story of the First Christmas Snow (1975), another obscure Rankin/Bass special about a blind person. They don’t even explicitly show the Plummers’ financial situation improving though it can be deduced that it will. I remember watching this in the December of 2020 when many families were unable to visit relatives or throw traditional Christmas parties, and the theme of making the most of the season under less-than-ideal circumstances…well, let’s just say it resonated.

The Stingiest Man in Town (1978)

This later Rankin/Bass special, adapted from A Christmas Carol, also begins with an insect (this one voiced by Tom Bosley) introducing himself to the viewers. “Who am I? The London Humbug, of course. B. A. H. Humbug to be precise.” That should give you some idea of the writing for this. It makes me roll my eyes but with a smile on my lips. He welcomes us to the house of Ebenezer Scrooge (Walter Matthau), “the kindest and most generous man in town.” Scrooge wasn’t always so generous, he acknowledges. This transitions to a brief song, a fragment of one really, about how cruel and stingy Scrooge was. “Until the ghosts came,” says Humbug ominously. We then cut to Scrooge’s bedroom, and we get a tantalizing glimpse of Jacob Marley (Theodore Bikel.) Wow, this adaptation moves fast, I thought. But this turns out to be just a teaser. It’s an unconventional way of beginning A Christmas Carol but a very hooky one in my opinion.

The voice acting throughout is very good, though nobody sounds convincingly British. Walter Matthau, in particular, is good as Scrooge, though he’s not exactly Dickens’s Scrooge. For one thing, he manipulates Bob Cratchit (Sonny Melendrez) by pretending to cry over giving him a paid holiday rather than bluntly objecting to it. Also, he immediately panics over seeing his dead partner’s face in a doorknocker and asks why he has come to haunt him where in the book Scrooge defiantly refused to accept the supernatural until he had no choice. Then again, this doorknocker face is much more frightful than the one Dickens described.

“Its horror seemed to be in spite of the face and beyond its control rather than a part of its own expression.” Guess this adaptation never got the memo.

That’s not the only silly moment in this Christmas Carol. There’s also the weirdly abrupt appearance of the Ghost of Christmas Past without any fanfare and how laughably easy it is for Scrooge to lay it to rest, something Dickens describes as quite a struggle in the book.

This is one of the few Rankin/Bass specials to have songs by someone other than Maury Laws. That’s because it’s actually a remake of a 1956 live action special starring Basil Rathbone, which had music by Daniel Spielman and lyrics by Janice Torre. These songs are actually The Stingiest Man‘s secret weapon, even if their number makes it a little crammed, the original special having been considerably longer. The only one I don’t really like is Listen to the Song of the Christmas Spirit and even that one I don’t dislike. I might just be biased against it because it’s sung during a pointless scene of one of the spirits randomly shrinking Scrooge to the size of a bug. (Could Disney’s A Christmas Carol (2009) possibly have been influenced by this?)

One of the best songs is Humbug, a duet between Scrooge and his nephew (Dennis Day) featuring such great Scrooge-like lyrics as “I abominate Old Saint Nick/His reckless spending makes me sick.” Amusingly, this horrifies Bob Cratchit and B. A. H. Humbug more than anything else he says. This is Rankin/Bass after all.

Jacob Marley’s song, I Wear a Chain, is genuinely haunting in a way I don’t expect from this kind of special.

There’s also Yes, There Is a Santa Claus, which is pretty much adapted from Francis Church’s famous response to Virginia. It’s a bit out of left field thematically but pretty, nonetheless.

Then there’s Birthday Party for a King, a song about Jesus which is arguably a bit less out of left field.[4]Some have described A Christmas Carol in Prose as the first secular Christmas story. Others have described it as Christian. The truth probably lies somewhere in between.

And then there’s One Little Boy, an anti-Malthusian song about Tiny Tim which gets right to the heart of Dickens’s message[5]Thomas Malthus was a controversial economist who worried about population growth. Dickens wrote A Christmas Carol, in part, as a reaction against his ideas. and is the best thing about this adaptation.

I lied when I wrote above that I consider Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town (1979) to be the best Rankin/Bass special. Actually, it’s this one since it’s the one I believe has the best story and the most powerful themes. Now is it the best retelling of that story? No, but, granted that its style isn’t exactly Dickensian and that it’s aimed at a somewhat different audience than the book, it’s a fairly honorable retelling and a more than honorable one at its best. Those aforementioned powerful themes are conveyed with a surprising emotional punch.

By “punch” I mean force. I’m not talking about the drink.

References

References
1 The Chimes is actually about New Year’s.
2 Didn’t it occur to him that his parents were humans themselves? Wouldn’t it have made more sense for him to just hate Romans?
3 Compare this to The Story of the First Christmas Snow (1975), another obscure Rankin/Bass special about a blind person.
4 Some have described A Christmas Carol in Prose as the first secular Christmas story. Others have described it as Christian. The truth probably lies somewhere in between.
5 Thomas Malthus was a controversial economist who worried about population growth. Dickens wrote A Christmas Carol, in part, as a reaction against his ideas.
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