The story I will not repeat for you. The ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future will not come as news. I’d rather dwell on the look of the picture, which is true to the spirit of Dickens (in some moods) as he cheerfully exaggerates. He usually starts with plucky young heroes or heroines and surrounds them with a gallery of characters and caricatures. Here his protagonist is the caricature: Ebenezer Scrooge, never thinner, never more stooped, never more bitter.
Jim Carrey is in there somewhere beneath the performance-capture animation; you can recognize his expressive mouth, but in general the Zemeckis characters don’t resemble their originals overmuch. In his Polar Express, you were sure that was Tom Hanks, but here you’re not equally sure of Gary Oldman, Robin Wright Penn, and Bob Hoskins.
Zemeckis places these characters in a London that twists and stretches its setting to reflect the macabre mood. Consider Scrooge’s living room, so narrow and tall just as he is. The home of his nephew, Fred, by contrast, is as wide and warm as Fred’s personality.
Animation provides the freedom to show just about anything, and Zemeckis uses it. Occasionally, he even seems to be evoking the ghost of Salvador Dali, as in a striking sequence where all the furniture disappears and a towering grandfather clock looms over Scrooge, a floor slanting into distant perspective.
The three starring ghosts are also spectacular grotesques. I like the first, a little elfin figure with a head constantly afire and a hat shaped like a candlesnuffer. Sometimes he playfully shakes his flames like a kid tossing the hair out of his eyes. After another (ahem) ghost flies out through the window, Scrooge runs over to see the whole street filled with floating spectral figures, each one chained to a heavy block, like so many Chicago mobsters sleeping with the fishes.
Can you talk about performances in characters so much assembled by committee? You can discuss the voices, and Carrey works overtime as not only Scrooge but all three of the Christmas ghosts. Gary Oldman voices Bob Cratchit, Marley, and Tiny Tim.
I remain unconvinced that 3-D represents the future of the movies, but it tells you something that Zemeckis’s three 3-D features (also including Beowulf) have wrestled from me eleven of a possible twelve stars. I like the way he does it. He seems to have a more sure touch than many other directors, using 3-D instead of being used by it. If the foreground is occupied by close objects, they’re usually looming inward, not out over our heads. Note the foreground wall-mounted bells we look past when Scrooge, far below, enters his home; as one and then another slowly starts to move, it’s a nice little touch.
Another one: The score by Alan Silvestri sneaks in some traditional Christmas carols, but you have to listen for such as “God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen” when its distinctive cadences turn sinister during a perilous flight through London.
So should you take the kiddies? Hmmm. I’m not so sure. When I was small, this movie would have scared the living ectoplasm out of me. Today’s kids have seen more and are tougher. Anyway, A Christmas Carol has the one quality parents hope for in a family movie: It’s entertaining for adults.
Elf
PG, 95 m., 2003
Will Ferrell (Buddy), James Caan (Walter), Zooey Deschanel (Jovie), Mary Steenburgen (Emily), Edward Asner (Santa Claus), Bob Newhart (Papa Elf), Daniel Tay (Michael), Faizon Love (Elf Manager). Directed by Jon Favreau and produced by Jon Berg, Todd Komarnicki, and Shauna Weinberg. Screenplay by David Berenbaum.
If I were to tell you Elf stars Will Ferrell as a human named Buddy who thinks he is an elf and Ed Asner as Santa Claus, would you feel an urgent desire to see this film? Neither did I. I thought it would be clunky, stupid, and obvious, like The Santa Clause or How the Grinch Stole Christmas. It would have grotesque special effects and lumber about in the wreckage of holiday cheer, foisting upon us a chaste romance involving the only girl in America who doesn’t know that a man who thinks he is an elf is by definition a pervert.
That’s what I thought it would be. It took me about ten seconds of seeing Will Ferrell in the elf costume to realize how very wrong I was. This is one of those rare Christmas comedies that has a heart, a brain, and a wicked sense of humor, and it charms the socks right off the mantelpiece.
Even the unexpected casting is on the money. James Caan as the elf’s biological father. Yes! Bob Newhart as his adoptive elf father. Yes! Mary Steenburgen as Caan’s wife, who welcomes an adult son into her family. Yes! Zooey Deschanel as the girl who works in a department store and falls for his elfin charm. Yes! Faizon Love as Santa’s elf manager—does it get any better than this? Yes, it does. Peter Dinklage, who played the dwarf in The Station Agent, has a brief but sublime scene in which he cuts right to the bottom line of elfhood.
Elf, directed by Jon Favreau and written by David Berenbaum, begins with a tragic misunderstanding on a Christmas long ago. As Santa is making his rounds, a human orphan crawls into his sack and accidentally hitches a ride to the North Pole. Raised as an elf by Papa Elf (Newhart), he knows he’s at least four feet taller than most of the other elves, and eventually he decides to go to New York and seek out his birth father.
This is Walter (Caan), a hard-bitten publisher whose heart does not instantly melt at the prospect of a six-foot man in a green tunic and yellow stretch tights who says he is his son. But when Buddy drops the name of Walter’s long-lost girlfriend, a faraway look appears in the old man’s eyes, and soon Buddy is invited home, where Mary Steenburgen proves she is the only actress in America who could welcome her husband’s out-of-wedlock elf into her family and make us believe she means it.
The plot is pretty standard stuff, involving a crisis at the old man’s publishing company and a need for a best-selling children’s book, but there are sweet subplots involving Buddy’s new little brother, Michael (Daniel Tay), and Buddy’s awkward but heartfelt little romance with the department store girl (Deschanel). Plus heart-tugging unfinished business at the North Pole.
Of course there’s a big scene involving Buddy’s confrontation with the department store Santa Claus, who (clever elf that he is) Buddy instantly spots as an imposter. “You sit on a throne of lies!” he tells this Santa. Indeed, the whole world has grown too cynical, which is why Santa is facing an energy crisis this year. His sleigh is powered by faith, and if enough people don’t believe in Santa Claus, it can’t fly. That leads to one of those scenes where a flying machine (in this case, oddly enough, the very sleigh we were just discussing) tries to fly and doesn’t seem to be able to achieve takeoff velocity, and . . . well, it would be a terrible thing if Santa were to go down in flames, so let’s hope Buddy convinces enough people to believe. It should be easy. He convinced me this was a good movie, and that’s a miracle on 34th Street right there.
Fanny and Alexander
R, 188 m., 1983
Gunn Wallgren (Helena Ekdahl), Ewa Froling (Emile Ekdahl), Jarl Kulle (Gustav Adolf Ekdahl), Mona Malm (Alma Ekdahl). Jan Malmsjo (Bishop Edvard Vergérus). Directed by Ingmar Bergman. Produced by Jörn Donner. Screenplay by Ingmar Bergman.
Ingmar Bergman’s Fanny and Alexander (1982) was intended to be his last film, and in it, he tends to the business of being young, of being middle-aged, of being old, of being a man, woman, Christian, Jew, sane, crazy, rich, poor, religious, profane. He creates a world in which the utmost certainty exists side by side with ghosts and magic, and a gallery of characters who are unforgettable in their peculiarities. Small wonder one of his inspirations was Dickens.