The Muppet Christmas Carol
(1992)
Reworking a classic of literature to accommodate a popular
star or franchise is sometimes the first sign of desperate measures, an attempt
to artificially inflate their waning status. Sometimes it’s purely about the
easy cash grab. What studio doesn’t want the pay-off of a Christmas perennial?
That this (fourth) big screen Muppets outing was also the first significant
incarnation of the characters following the death of their creator might have
been a portend of woe (albeit, the idea was Jim Henson’s, in the wake of
Disney’s purchase). Yet The Muppet
Christmas Carol might be the best. It is
undeniably the one with the longest afterlife; the movie wasn’t even a big hit
on first release.
Jim’s son Brian Henson called the shots on this return to Muppetdom,
ably accompanied by many of the series’ regulars. Jerry Juhl, who had written
for The Muppet Show and co-scripted
several of the earlier movies, adapted Charles Dickens’ novella. He did so with
a fair degree of fidelity, referencing many of the original lines (not just the
de rigueur “Bah! Humbug!”). The major alteration, aside from enabling various
Muppets to take supporting roles, is the inclusion of Charles Dickens (played
by the Great Gonzo himself) as narrator, ably supported by Rizzo the Rat. It’s
the metatextual element that lends the movie its personality and tone. This
knowing quality, inviting the audience in on the joke and providing humorous
commentary to developments, is intrinsic to the success of the Muppets. Without
them, Christmas Carol would be a
little too respectful.
Also noteworthy is that this is a musical (previously
attempted in the 1970 Albert Finney adaptation). The songs were penned by Paul Williams (who
also contributed to the first Muppet
Movie, in which he cameoed). They aren’t a bad selection, as these things
go, and include several that lodge in the memory after the show is over (When Love is Gone, Marley and Marley and It
Feels Like Christmas). More arresting is the sight (and sound) of Michael
Caine, revealing his previously untapped potential as a singer. Tellingly, we
haven’t heard much of his musicality since (his rendition of My Way in Little Voice is fantastic, however). Put it this way; Caine’s no previously
undiscovered great, but he isn’t tone deaf either.
The former Maurice Micklewhite’s appearance here is rightly
regarded as one of the few bright spots of quality during his ‘90s drought. He
had a long established rep of signing up to star in any old dross (The Swarm, Jaws: The Revenge), but the
truth is he was rarely a couple of pictures away from something decent. Aside
from A Shock to the System (1990) and
Blood and Wine (1996), there’s barely
anything worth mentioning on his CV until Little
Voice saw him rediscovering his mojo in ’98. This was a period where he was
willing to be directed by Michael Winner (in dual roles, with Roger Moore!),
play the villain in Steven Seagal’s eco-themed directorial debut and sullying
the memory of Harry Palmer in a couple of cheap direct-to-video belated sequels.
But he’s great as Scrooge; reliably menacing and venomous as his initial
incarnation (this is the man who played Jack Carter, after all) and subsequently
infused with warm-hearted brio. Needless to say, Caine is such a pro he plays
the whole thing very straight. He leaves it to his felt co-stars to (not always
successfully) attempt to upstage him with their hijinks.
There are a few other human cast members, most notably
Steven Mackintosh as Scrooge’s nephew Fred, but this is really about special
guest star Michael Caine. Except that Caine is the actual star. In this respect, the picture takes a different path
from previous Muppet ventures, where the humans were the game straight men
supporting players.
The Ghosts we meet might be the least successful element of
the production. Marley and Marley (now brothers to accommodate… ) are amusingly
incarnated as Statler and Waldorf. The Ghost of Christmas Past is an
ineffectually ethereal girl puppet, Christmas Present is a portly bearded type
(apparently modelled on the 1951 Scrooge)
while Christmas Yet to Come is your standard faceless cowled figure with a
beckoning hand. With the latter at least, they can’t go wrong. While it is
admirable to allow the story to speak for itself (“You’re on your own folks. We’ll meet you at the finale” exclaims
Gonzo, as he and Rizzo fearfully retreat upon the arrival of Christmas Yet to
Come), it’s a disappointment that the Creature Shop was unable to design more
distinctive spirits.
Dickens/Gonzo: Once again, I must ask you to remember that
the Marleys were dead, and decaying in their graves.
Rizzo: Yeuchh.
Nevertheless, the on-going commentary is frequently very
funny. From Rizzo questioning how Dickens is able to explain what is happening
before we see it (“I keep telling you,
storytellers are omniscient. I know everything”) to concerns over whether
the kids will be scared (“No, it’s all
right. This is culture”). Rizzo, who first appeared at the tail end of The Muppet Show, is a constant delight,
such that Gonzo must assume an unlikely dependability (“I knew you weren’t suited to literature” he tells the Rat). Statler
and Waldorf still manage to get in a few choice heckles (“Leave comedy to the bears, Ebenezer”, they tell Scrooge, who has just quoted Dickens' original "more gravy than the grave"; the
original character of Fezziwig, Scrooge’s first employer, is now embodied as
Fozziewig). On Gonzo’s suggestion, Sam the Eagle (as younger Scrooge’s Headmaster),
restates “You will love business. It is
the American way” as “It is the
British way”.
Of course, Kermit and Miss Piggy are essential ingredients.
They dutifully appear as Bob and Emily Cratchit, and their male and female offspring
are frogs and pigs respectively (which seems entirely appropriate). The Muppet Christmas Carol might not be
the most essential version of the tale but it’s definitely one of the most
likeable.
