Angels in the Endzone (1997)

Angels in the Endzone (Dir: Gary Nadeau, 1997).

More spiritual shenanigans with the heavenly bodies last seen in Angels in the Outfield (William Dear, 1994); on hand here to help out failing football team the Westfield Angels. Unlike its predecessor this, the first of two sequels to Walt Disney Pictures' modest box office hit, bypassed cinemas; instead premiering on ABC's The Wonderful World of Disney TV series in autumn 1994. 

Following the untimely death of his father, promising player Jesse (Matthew Lawrence) quits his high school football team to hang with a bad crowd. Little brother Kevin (David Gallagher) prays to the heavenly angels to aid the ailing Westfield Angels, in the hope that their success will inspire Jess to return to the team. Industrial strength schmaltz is applied liberally to a predictable plot in which the only real surprise was that I made it to the end credits. 

Perhaps I am being a little harsh on Angels in the Endzone. The lazy cultural stereotypes, forced slapstick and stodgy sentiment is something that will likely bother its intended young audience far less than it does a jaded, so-called movie reviewer like myself. It is by no means difficult to watch, but I do find the mix of saccharin and spiritualism a bit of an acquired taste. 

In its favour is a likeable cast. Returning from the first movie is Christopher Lloyd as head angel Al, doing his lovable eccentric bit as a kind of divine Doc Brown. It is certainly no stretch for the star but he makes more of an impression here than in ...Outfield and shares some nice scenes with youngster David Gallagher. Veteran Paul Dooley also impresses as weather beaten Coach Buck; so good is his performance that it is a shame it is not in a better movie. As it is, Dooley and Lloyd are easily the best reason for watching. 

To say Angels in the Endzone is a better movie than the first is not saying much. But a less cloying concept, thankfully free of orphans, and a darker second half ultimately makes for  more palatable viewing than its predecessor. Following the same narrative beats as Angels in the Outfield, it is fair to assume that if you liked that movie you will enjoy this one too. Angels were definitely smiling on fans of the franchise as a third movie Angels in the Infield (Robert King, 2000) inexplicably followed. None of the series is, as yet, available on the Disney+ streaming service, perhaps giving some indication of their limited appeal. By all means give them a look if you stumble upon them but I wouldn't necessarily recommend tracking them down.

Angels in the Outfield (1994)

Angels in the Outfield (Dir: William Dear, 1994).

Walt Disney animation was enjoying a long awaited renaissance in the 1990s, with features such as Beauty and the Beast (Gary Trousdale & Kirk Wise, 1991) and Aladdin (Ron Clements & John Musker, 1993) achieving popular and critical success on a scale little seen since the golden age of the 1930s/40s. Over at Disney's live-action department it was a different story. Formulaic comedy and kid's sports movies dominated a release schedule only occasionally punctuated by big hits such as Honey, I Shrunk the Kids (Joe Johnston, 1989) and Cool Runnings (Jon Turteltaub, 1993). Fantasy baseball movie Angels in the Outfield was the studios' attempt to hit a home run in the busy summer blockbuster season of 1994. 

With his mother dead, young Roger (Joseph Gorden Levitt) is already residing in a foster care home when estranged dad (Dermot Mulroney) tells the boy they will only be a family again when no-hoper baseball team the Angels win the pennant. Roger's prayers are answered when a group of angels, lead by Christopher Lloyd, intervene to secure the team their most successful season. Team manager George Knox (Danny Glover), while skeptical about the heavenly help, befriends the kid, becoming a surrogate father of sorts to the abandoned boy. No spoilers are necessary in this review, as the movie's outcome is obvious long before the final inning.   

A remake of a vintage MGM production, also titled Angels in the Outfield (Clarence Brown, 1951), Disney's take adds kid appeal by way of an extra dollop of saccharine, making an already sticky concept even gooier. Indeed, the combination of angels, orphans and cloying sentiment is a little hard to swallow and may leave a lump in your throat for the wrong reasons. The cliches come quicker than a fastball in a movie photographed through a soft-lens golden hue as if it were perpetual sundown, while some laboured comedy and a predictable plot would have seemed out of date when the original version was released. 

What makes the picture watchable is the surprisingly starry cast. Pre-stardom Joseph Gordon Levitt, Adrien Brody and Matthew McConaughey appear alongside veterans Danny Glover, Brenda Fricker, Christopher Lloyd and Ben Johnson. TV sitcom star Tony Danza contributes a sensitive performance as a washed-up ballplayer while, as the beleaguered boss, Glover invests an earnestness into his performance that the picture really doesn't deserve.  

The fantasy baseball movie had become something a sub-genre of its own by the mid '90s; in the previous decade both The Natural (Barry Levinson, 1984) and Field of Dreams (Phil Alden Robinson, 1989) achieved considerable artistic and commercial success. While a moderate box office hit, Angels in the Outfield was almost universally panned by critics and three decades later is an almost entirely forgotten entry in the Walt Disney Pictures canon. It did, however, spawn a mini-franchise of sorts, with sequels Angles in the Endzone (Gary Nadeau, 1997) and Angles in the Infield (Robert King, 2000) debuting on ABC's The Wonderful World of Disney television series. 

With an unexpected subject matter from a company that largely avoids spiritual symbolism in its product, the movie is, perhaps tellingly, one of only a few 90's Disney movies yet to make it to the Disney+ streaming service.  Its talented cast means that Angels... is not entirely unwatchable and it has a undeniable weird appeal. Check it out if you must, but be wary that a strong stomach is needed to digest all that sugary sentiment.

Battleship Potemkin (1925)

Battleship Potemkin (Dir: S M Eisenstein, 1925).

A hack like me is nowhere near good enough a writer to properly do justice to Sergei Eisenstein's epic of silent cinema, Battleship Potemkin. Besides which, so much has already been written on the subject that it would be virtually impossible to bring anything new to the discussion. However, since I proclaim to be a movie reviewer, I would be failing my own craft not to at least give it a go. 

Battleship Potemkin is a dramatic reconstruction of the mutiny of the Imperial Russian Navy ship Potemkin and events surrounding the 1905 Russian Revolution. Commissioned by the Communist Party of the Soviet Union to commemorate the 20th anniversary of the incident, the movie is an early example of film as political propaganda. So powerful was director Eisenstein's film that it was banned by governments, including the UK, in fear of evoking similar protests among the proletariat. 

To claim Battleship Potemkin is possibly the most influential movie of all time is no exaggeration. Through use of dramatic editing, Eisenstein pioneered the technique of montage most notable in the scenes of maggoty meat, the much imitated Odessa steps sequence and, my personal favourite, the symbolic awakening stone lion. 

Almost a century after its initial release, Battleship Potemkin is still an incredibly powerful piece of movie making. The juxtaposing of images to create dramatic tension feels palpably modernist and literally changed film editing forever. Pioneering the docu-drama before the term 'documentary' had been coined; its influence on the British film industry and the subsequent realist movement is immeasurable. 

Battleship Potemkin arguably rivals the likes of Citizen Kane (Orson Welles, 1941) and Vertigo (Alfred Hitchcock, 1958) for the title of Greatest Movie Ever Made. It is a monumental motion picture that should be cornerstone viewing for those with even the slightest interest in film. If you have seen it, you know what I am talking about. If you haven't I recommend you cancel all further engagements and watch it immediately. Once you have done that I suggest you seek out the writings of a proper film historian who can offer an appropriate appraisal of this masterpiece. 

All the President’s Men (1976)

All the President's Men (Dir: Alan J Pakula, 1976).

Sometimes you forget how powerful a storytelling medium film can be until you watch a truly great movie. Such is the case with Alan J Pakula’s masterpiece All the President’s Men. Goodness knows why it has taken me 45 years to finally watch it.

Recent events in US politics, and indeed the years leading up to them, may have de-sensitised some to political corruption or at least ruined their appetite for movies about political corruption. Fret thee not as All the President’s Men is less a film about politics, rather the investigative journalists who uncovered the Watergate scandal which eventually led to the impeachment of 37th US president Richard Nixon. 

Based upon Washington Post journalists Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward's non-fiction book of the same name, the movie cast Dustin Hoffman as Bernstein and Robert Redford as Woodward as they doggedly probe the murky details surrounding the 1972 break-in and burglary of the Democratic Nation Committee headquarters in the Washington DC's Watergate complex. Risking their careers and their lives to expose the perpetrators of the felony, tracing it all the way back to the main man himself, president Nixon.

There is surprisingly little action in All The President's Men, indeed much of the 'action' is made up of two guys on the telephone. Yet it is as taut and tense as any thriller you have seen, with Pakula’s steady direction a masterclass in pacing. As you would expect, the cast is flawless. Much of the movie is shot in closeup and the intensity of the performances is right up on the screen in the faces of Redford and Hoffman; the movie proving an acting showcase for two of Hollywood's most enduring and appealing leading men. Excellent support comes from Jack Warden, Martin Balsam and Jason Robards as the Post editors and a short but scene stealing appearance from Ned Beatty, similar in tone to his brief role in the same year's Network (Sidney Lumet, 1976). Special mention must be made to the late Hal Holbrook who is especially effective in the small but important role as the shady informant. 

What could have been a dry account of worthy journalistic endeavor is, instead an enthralling and exciting masterpiece. All the President's Men wholly lives up to it reputation as one the most important films of its era and arguably the greatest political film of all time. Highly recommended for even those with no interest in politics and journalism. 

Rock & Rule (1983)

 Rock & Rule (Dir: Clive A Smith, 1983). 

Rock & Rule is a futuristic, dystopian sci-fi rock musical from Canadian animation studio Nelvana.

On a post apocalypse planet Earth in which mutant rodents have displaced extinct humans as the dominant species, evil genius rock god Mok (voiced by Don Francks with singing by Lou Reed) plots to summon an inter-dimensional demon, presumably in pursuit of world dominance. In order to fulfill his maniacal plan he must engage the talents of Angel (Susan Roman with singing from Blondie's Deborah Harry), a young, ambitious singing mouse with the desired vocal frequency to open up a portal to the demon's domain. Kidnapping Angel and whisking her off to his lair in Nuke York, the pair are soon perused by Angel's fellow band members on a daring rescue mission. Yeah, I kinda lost the thread of the plot a couple of times, but what the hey? Hallucinogenics may help...  

In development since the late 1970s, Rock & Rule would fall foul of studio politics when a new regime at distribution company MGM/UA would lose faith in the movie, delaying its release and only granting it a limited theatrical run in 1983. Seemingly destined for obscurity, the feature would eventually gain cult status when made available on the burgeoning home video and cable TV markets. 

Back in the '80s, Nelvana were known for popular TV 'toons The Raccoons (1985-1992) and the Star Wars series Ewoks (1985-1986) and Droids (1985-1986). The studio's debut feature film, Rock & Rule shares a visual style with the period TV product, albeit a notch up in production values. The cast of humanoid creatures with animal faces recall the non-duck periphery characters of Carl Barks' Uncle Scrooge comic book universe. This influence is particularly apparent in a trio of Beagle Boys-esq henchmen. 

Yet, while the sub-Disney character design may appeal to the kids, some mild swearing, drug taking and sexually suggestive humour that wouldn't seem out of place in Ralph Bakshi's x-rated animations Fritz the Cat (R Bakshi, 1972) and Heavy Traffic (R Bakshi, 1973) means it is largely unsuitable for young'uns. Seemingly aimed at teens who feel they have outgrown Disney but are a little too young for Bakshi, it would be fair to assume it caused some headaches among the MGM/UA marketing department; at least partially sealing its fate with regards to release.

An impressive array of recording artists was assembled to soundtrack the movie, with contributions from Deborah Harry, Cheap Trick, Lou Reed, Iggy Pop and Earth, Wind and Fire. While the music is good, it is perhaps less memorable than such an exemplary line-up would suggest. None of the songs particularly lingering in the memory after the end credits roll, and I would image that, by the time of the movie's eventual release in '83, much of it seemed outdated to its intended audience.

Still, there is an engaging weirdness to Rock & Rule which means it is never less than entertaining. With a visual aesthetic which veers uneasily between impressive and rough around the edges, it is no animated classic. But with a decent post-punk soundtrack and frankly bizarre plot, it easily earns its cult status. For grown-up kids weened on 1980s Saturday morning cartoons it has an undeniable nostalgic appeal; a genuine oddity that deserves to be watched at least once. 

Attack on the Iron Coast (1968)

Attack on the Iron Coast (Dir: Paul Wendkos, 1968).

Following the success of The Great Escape (John Sturges, 1963), producer Walter Mirisch would attempt to repeat its success with other WWII themed movies including 633 Squadron (Walter E Gruman, 1963), Submarine X-1 (William Graham, 1968) and this cheap and cheerful effort. 

Inspired by the real life Operation Chariot, a raid on the German occupied French port St Nazire, Attack on the Iron Coast details an mission to destroy a Nazi stronghold, lead by hardheaded Canadian army Major Jamie Wilson (Lloyd Bridges) and dissonant British navy Captain Franklin (Andrew Keir).

Herman Hoffman's screenplay is a cliched affair, with narrative tropes familiar to anyone who has ever watched a WWII movie. Add to this the unimaginative direction of Paul Wendkos and some overwrought performances from its cast of B movie regulars and we have a well meaning but somewhat ham-fisted actioner. The use of stock footage in battle scenes and obvious model work in the effects sequences only accentuate the movie’s low budget. 

Top billed is Lloyd Bridges, an amiable leading man who always seemed more comfortable on the small screens than in movies. He gives a decent performance as commando leader Major Wilson, tormented by the thought of sending his squad on the deadly duty. More effective is co-star Andrew Keir as the stoic Captain Franklin, at loggerheads with Wilson after his own son was lost on one of the Major's previous missions.

Fascinatingly much of the movie was shot in London’s St Katherine Dock, after it functioned as a dock and before redevelopment saw it transformed into a leisure and tourist destination. To be honest, this and the presence of Mr Keir were my main reasons for watching this particular feature film. If this peeks your interest then it is well worth seeking out. If not there are many WWII movies far more competently made than this. 

Ultimately, Attack on the Iron Coast is the movie equivalent of a Commando comic book. While it is no cinematic masterpiece, it is a perfectly entertaining way to pass 90 minutes of your time; I imagine the movie was met with appreciation by many a young lad on the second half of a matinee double bill back in '68. 

Escape in the Fog (1945)

Escape in the Fog (Dir: Oscar Boetticher Jr, 1945).

The evocatively titled Escape in the Fog is a B-movie thriller from Columbia Pictures; directed by Budd Boetticher, billed here, as on all his early movies, as Oscar Boetticher Jr. 

Wartime nurse Eileen Carr (Nina Foch) has a nightmare about the attempted murder of friendly neighbourhood G-Man Barry Malcolm (William Wright). The premonition proves prophetic and on this preposterous premise is hung a convoluted plot involving smuggled documents, kidnapping and Nazi bad guys.  

Sometimes regarded as film noir, Escape in the Fog has noir-ish elements but is, instead, a fairly routine wartime espionage thriller. At least it would be routine, but for the incredulous plot. Set in San Francisco. but featuring little of the city’s famous landmarks, it was obviously shot on the studio backlot on a fairly meagre budget. That said, it makes decent use of its budgetary constraints; with fog cloaked exteriors both adding atmosphere and obscuring the lack of outdoor locales and elaborate sets. 

Otto Kruger receives top billing as uncover agent Paul Devon, but the real leads are William Wright and Nina Foch. A leading man who never made it out of B-pictures, Wright is a little too bland to fully convince as the hero. Better is Foch as the mystic medic; although sadly underused, she is nonetheless as watchable as ever and is probably the best reason to seek out this particular movie. Together the pair have little onscreen chemistry, thus making the romantic subplot feel a little forced. 

Boetticher was often dismissive of his early work, including Escape in the Fog. It is a little undistinguished but not without entertainment value. At just shy of 65 minutes it is short and moves at a fair pace but, ultimately, the movie is scuppered by a convoluted plot and the implausible narrative device of premonition  It is worth a watch, especially for fans of the era and of Foch, but the plot is just a bit too silly to really take seriously. 

Major Barbara (1941)

 Major Barbara (Dir: Gabriel Pascal, 1941)

An impressive array of British acting talent headline Gabriel Pascal’s feature film adaptation of George Bernard Shaw’s acclaimed 1905 satirical play. Receiving an Assistant in Direction credit, it is widely acknowledged that Major Barbara was almost solely directed by the great David Lean with some help from stage director Harold French. Producer Gabriel Pascal owned the film rights and took onscreen director credit. 

Wendy Hiller stars as the titular Salvation Army major and estranged daughter of weapons manufacturer Andrew Undershaft (Robert Morley). Rex Harrison is the Greek philosophy professor Adolphus, who sparks romantic interest from the major and business interest from her father as a possible heir to his ammunition enterprise. 

It is hard to recall a movie of its era with a more impressive cast than Major Barbara. Fresh from her performance in Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion (Anthony Asquith & Leslie Howard, 1938), Wendy Hiller gives an enormously characteristic performance as the headstrong idealist at odds with her father’s legacy. Rex Harrison, who incidentally would later star in Pygmalion musical adaptation My Fair Lady (George Cukor, 1964), is her equal, giving evidence of his stature as one of Britain’s top stars. Add to this some deliciously ripe hamming from Robert Morley and Robert Newton and early appearances from future stars Deborah Kerr and Stanley Holloway and you have a veritable who’s who of Brit actors.  

A hack amateur movie reviewer, such as myself, is in no position to criticise a great writer such as Mr Bernard Shaw. Indeed, there is little to criticise. Shaw’s satire is still sharp over a century after the play was first performed. The dialogue sparkles and Lean’s direction can’t be faulted; the movie is rightly regarded a classic. However, I feel the capitalism sympathetic climax sits somewhat uneasy with the rest of the feature. I appreciate it is satirising both sides of the capitalist coin, but the ending really did trip me up. For me it was the movie’s only real weakness; although I guess it is only a weakness depending on where you sit on the political spectrum. 

In all other respects Major Barbara is top tier entertainment from the golden age of British cinema and is highly recommended viewing. 

Santa and the Ice Cream Bunny (1972)

Santa and the Ice Cream Bunny (Dir: R Winer & B Mahon, 1972). 

If you are looking for alternative Christmas viewing it doesn’t get much more alternative than this, frankly weird, no-budget effort from indie production company R & S Films, Inc. 

Santa (Jay Clark) touches down in sunny Florida and gets his sleigh stuck in the sand. Using his powers of telepathy(!), Ol’ Saint Nick summons the help of some local kids including, for reasons unexplained, Mark Twain’s literary Tom and Huck. The kids employe an assortment of animals, gorilla included, to shift the sleigh to no avail, until the appearance of the titular rabbit who, despite co-star billing, doesn’t appear until the final moments of the movie. When he does finally make an entrance he is inexplicably driving a fire truck, not an ice cream van as you might expect. Really this Santa and Bunny business is just a framing device as Santa settles down to tell the kids the tale of Jack and the Beanstalk, which takes up the bulk of the movie’s runtime. 

Portions of a movie’s musical score being played on kazoo is generally a good indicator that it was made on a low budget. Actually there are many indicators that Santa and the Ice Cream Bunny was made on a low budget: amateurish performances and camerawork, shoddy sets and witless songs are just a few. 

With a disjointed and often nonsensical narrative the movie has a hazy, dreamlike quality that may leave you wondering if you actually watched it or imagined it. Yet, for all that, it does have a certain slapdash charm. 

I seriously doubt if Santa and the Ice Cream Bunny ever appealed to kids, even back in ‘72. It is difficult to see it appealing to young’uns today, unless they have a particular penchant for kitsch movies. 

In the public domain and easy to access via streaming, by all means give it a watch, as there is little else like it around. I wouldn’t say I enjoyed it as much as endured it. But it was weirdly watchable and cheaper than drugs. 

Christmas Carol The Movie (2001)

Christmas Carol The Movie (Dir: Jimmy T Murakami, 2001). 

A UK production from Jimmy T Murakami, the talented supervising director of The Snowman (Dianne Jackson, 1982) and director of When the Wind Blows (J T Murakami, 1986); an all star cast and a story seemingly ideally suited to feature length animation treatment. What could possibly go wrong? Plenty. 

The clunky title Christmas Carol The Movie should be some indication that the feature film to follow is not the Christmas Carol with which you are familiar. In fact this take on Charles Dickens’ literary classic is so wildly irreverent it makes you wonder why the filmmakers bothered making a movie based on such a reverential text. The basics are here as miserly Ebenezer Scrooge is visited by various spirits on his road to Christmas redemption. Yet changes to the tale, such as a reconciliation with lost love Belle, are certainly not an improvement, while the decision to show the story through the eyes of a pair of friendly rodents is frankly weird. 

I would be slightly more forgiving of Christmas Carol The Movie if the accompanying animation was anything other than flat and lifeless, lacking style and of Saturday morning cartoon quality. Yet, while the film can only be regarded as a disappointment, it is not entirely without merit. The Ghost of Christmas Present sequence, in which the oversized spectre distributes Christmas spirit via cornucopia, is rather lovely and adopts a unique visual style far more appealing than the rest of the movie. 

Then there is the stellar cast. In live action bookends Simon Callow impresses as Charles Dickens, narrating the action and giving a marvellous vocal performance as Scrooge. Kate Winslet contributes a particularly tender reading as Belle and makes a lovely job of singing end title song ‘What If’. A surprising satisfying casting choice is Nicholas Cage as an understated Marley’s Ghost. 

Yet none of the considerable talent manages to save a movie whose real problems stem from the unnecessary changes it makes to the source material. 

Suitable for younger viewers, but not an ideal introduction to Dickens, this is a sadly missed opportunity to create a definitive animated Scrooge; it is difficult to recommend  Christmas Carol The Movie when there are so many superior versions of the story out there. Check out Murakami and Dianne Jackson’s  masterful adaptation of Raymond Briggs’ The Snowman for some genuine Christmas cheer. 

A Christmas Carol (1999)

A Christmas Carol (Dir: David Jones, 1999). 

So numerous are the adaptations of Charles Dickens’ evergreen A Christmas Carol that it is difficult for any new retelling to bring anything original to the tale. This Hallmark produced made for TV movie features decent production values, some neat visual effects and a somewhat more sombre tone than expected but doesn’t really stand out from the Christmas Carol crowd. 

It does feature a commendable performance from Patrick Stewart in the lead. Stewart had previously played Ebenezer on Broadway and on London’s West End. He isn’t the most imposing of screen Scrooges, but he does bring a subtleness to the role which is often lacking in other interpretations. 

While the star cast assembled here is pretty impressive, not everyone is especially suited to their roles. Richard E Grant, for example, is not ideally cast as the downtrodden Bob Cratchit, while Dominic West makes for an unusually rugged Nephew Fred. Better served is legendary Joel Grey as an eerie Ghost of Christmas Past. Adding a real touch of class are the excellent Liz Smith and Elizabeth Spriggs; both superb in their small yet significant roles as, respectively, Mrs Dilber and Mrs Riggs.

While not top of my Christmas watch list, this A Christmas Carol is by no means a bad movie, just one with a subject that has been better told elsewhere. However, the atmosphere is refreshingly downbeat, never losing sight of the important message its story conveys. This may put off younger family members but is a welcome tonic to the sticky sentiment present in most Hallmark outings. 

Ultimately, the movie gets more right than wrong and while by no means essential, it is worth a look for the talented cast, especially so for fans of Stewart and Grey.

A Christmas Carol (1984)

A Christmas Carol (Dir: Clive Donner, 1984).

Be they traditional retellings or radical reworkings, new adaptations of Charles Dickens’ ever popular 1843 novella are as common as a cock’er’ny street urchin. Less numerous, but still pretty plentiful, were they back in December 1984 when this prestigious US/UK coproduction premiered on CBS prime time, while simultaneously released to cinemas internationally. 

George C Scott here stars as the original grinch, who is persuaded to change his ways after overindulging in Christmas spirits. 

With its story familiar to virtually every living soul, it can be difficult for any new telling to distinguish itself from the all the others. Let’s be honest, no other version can top the masterpiece Scrooge (Brian Desmond Hurst, 1951) with its magnificent central performance from Alastair Sim as, arguably, the definitive Ebenezer. Yet George C Scott makes the character his own, at least for the duration of the movie. 

An interpretation of Scrooge that is somewhat softened; Scott’s portrayal is more disillusioned businessman than the gleeful miser of other adaptations. While this does mean Scott is not one of the screens more powerful Scrooges, it does add a little more shade to a character who can easily become one dimensional in the hands of a lesser actor. 

In a supporting cast peppered with faces familiar from 80s television, the standout, for me, is Edward Woodward. Soon to be seen in popular TV drama The Equaliser (1985- 89), Woodward is cast against type as the Ghost of Christmas Present. With the requisite mix of jollity and foreboding, his success in the part makes you wish he had stepped out of his action comfort zone a little more often. 

A nice moody atmosphere permeates A Christmas Carol. Its impressive production values offer few indications of the movie’s made for TV origins. While it may not rank among the very best versions of the story, it is still a decent movie, well worth including in any annual Scrooge-athon. 

A Christmas Carol (1938)

A Christmas Carol (Dir: Edwin L Marin, 1938).

Produced by MGM at the height of Hollywood’s golden age, A Christmas Carol is a lively, albeit scrubbed up, adaptation of Charles Dickens ever popular 1843 novella. The familiar story is more or less faithful to Dickens' text, as miserly old Ebenezer Scrooge accepts a ghostly hand in relocating his Christmas spirit, much to the relief of his put-upon employee Bob Cratchit, as well as the half of London who are indebted to him.  

Encouraged by the success of David Copperfield (George Cukor, 1935) MGM embarked on this Dickens adaptation, originally intended as a vehicle for character star Lionel Barrymore. Due to sickness, Barrymore had to pull out and was replaced by Reginald Owen, a lesser known but accomplished performer, now best remembered for his role as Admiral Boom in Mary Poppins (Robert Stevenson, 1964). It does seem a bit of a missed opportunity for Barrymore, who would have made an excellent Scrooge. He would later play Christmas curmudgeon Potter in his most famous movie It’s a Wonderful Life (Frank Capra, 1946), giving a glimpse of what he may have brought to the role. But don't be too disappointed, as Owen makes for a wonderfully charismatic Scrooge, in what is arguably one of the standout readings of the character. 

An impressive supporting cast were assembled to bring the characters off of the page and into the movie theatre. Notably the great character actor Leo G Carroll as an eerie Marley's Ghost and an appealingly goofy turn from Barry Mackay as Nephew Fred. Gene Lockhart looks a little too well fed but brings an immense likability to his role as Bob Cratchit while Terry Kilburn is a suitably winsome Tiny Tim. A standout for all the wrong reasons is John O'Day as elder Cratchit son Peter whose broad American accent is jarring to say the least! 

The default movie version of the tale until surpassed by British production Scrooge (Brian Desmond Hurst, 1951), this particular Christmas Carol omits all the darker aspects of the story in favour of family friendly festive frivolity. Boasting lavish production values, the characters here seem to have experienced little of the poverty described in the original text in an altogether rather jolly affair which is decidedly more Hollywood than Dickens. While it may seem odd to scrub the story of its more sombre moments, it is worth remembering the state of events when the movie was released; with the US only just beginning to pull itself out of The Great Depression and the prospect of World War II imminent, audiences were looking to the movies for escapism, and A Christmas Carol offers this abundance.

A slightly antiseptic take on the story it may be, but it is warmhearted, festive and highly entertaining. If you watch one Christmas Carol this year, make it the masterful 1951 adaptation Scrooge, with Alastair Sim's definitive take on the character. But if, like me, you head into four or five plus territory, then this good-natured version is well worth seeking out.