… and the Spirit of Christmas Present prepared to thrust old Scrooge into the brothel!
Scrooge (1935) is a rendition of the standard Dickens’ tale of the fun-hating misanthropist Ebenezer Scrooge, and his lesson, delivered from on-high, concerning the love for his fellow humans that he should bear, and how its absence has cost him, to his sorrow.
In terms of story, Scrooge shows a sad paucity of backbone, even more than is normal for this story, which has often been adapted for the movie screen. His late partner, Marley, speaks to him from the spirit world of his travails, and he’s immediately metaphorically face-down on the floor, shaking with obedience to every command.
Perhaps this is sensible for a man of the era, the 1840s, but I like my characters to have a bit of gumption, even in the face of supernatural power. Scrooge is the bully who tries to disappear when faced with the bigger bully. It’s dull and disappointing. It’s the character who clings bitterly to their conceits and preconceptions who teach us, ultimately, of how these are sins and not virtues.
But, in compensation, the visuals of this Scrooge are unexpectedly evocative, sometimes even stunning, despite the primitive technical capabilities available during the creation of this film. In particular, the scene in which his scavenged household goods are presented for valuation by a reseller by those who dared to appropriate them from the very room of Scrooge’s passing, the faces of these scavengers are presented to best advantage to show their indifference for the dead old Scrooge, and the poor way in which he died: friendless.
At an hour in length, this story almost hurries along, and yet it covers, effectively, the important points: the love Bob Cratchit for his son, Tiny Tim; the effect of Tim’s loss on Cratchit and his family; the affection, unforced, Scrooge’s nephew Fred has for his uncle, drawn in just a few strokes; and Scrooge’s past mistakes and where they may lead.
It’s not overwhelming, but it is cleverly done, and certainly family-suitable.
