Movie Review: Disney's A Christmas Carol

In modern times, Charles Dickens' novella "A Christmas Carol" has been turned into a holiday perennial aimed at evoking the Christmas spirit of giving, played out for comic and serious effect by everyone from George C. Scott and Bill Murray to Mr. Magoo and George Jetson. You might not have read the original work, but you know about the stingy man and the ghostly visitations.

But Dickens had something greater in mind for the work; it wasn't just about the holidays but about what he saw as a societal shift in issues of poverty and humanity during 1840s Britain. It was a work with serious intent.

With "Disney's A Christmas Carol" in 3D, director Robert Zemeckis aims to take the film back to those roots, and he succeeds. This "Christmas Carol" goes darker and deeper; it's a gorgeously rendered piece of art. Unfortunately, it's more art than entertainment.

Dickens' work starts with the line, "Marley was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that," and that's where Zemeckis begins grimly. We see clearly Marley in the casket with coins on his eyes. Standing over him is Ebenezer Scrooge (voiced by Jim Carrey), sinewy, hunched over, bad teeth and so cheap he takes Marley's coins because that would be throwing away good money.

It's definitely made clear that this Scrooge is not lacking only in Christmas spirit, he's lacking in the human spirit. His lined, drawn face and body prove he deprives even himself.

As he sits in his mansion hunched over a bowl of gruel, Scrooge gets a visit from the anguished ghost of Marley (also voiced by Carrey, who provides voices for all the ghosts), weighed down by iron chains and condemned to a restless afterlife because of the selfish way he lived his life. Scrooge faces the same fate, Marley tells him, but has a chance at redemption through the spirits that will visit him.

Those visits from the spirits of Christmas present, past and future give the film a mix of gothic drama, whimsy and cartoonishly jarring violence. It's sort of the problem Carrey always has when he makes a serious film: Directors tap into that darkness that lies beneath his surface, but they don't want to give up the wackiness, either. So, in his various forms, Carrey gets slammed and banged around ruthlessly and has moments of tenderness and pockets full of wry.

Carrey is fine doing the voices; he doesn't knock it out of the park, but as I watched I thought about how folks like him and Eddie Murphy often get overlooked for doing multiple roles like this, and they shouldn't be.

As I said, the images in the film are gorgeous (and the 3D further enhances the quality). It really looks like one of those classically illustrated books come to life. It's authentic, too. There's spittle and grime, ruddiness and sallowness, dark alleys, rats, mustiness.

But it's like a counterfeit of a great painting - all the strokes are there, but the artist's passion isn't. At the end of the screening I attended, there was polite applause. It seemed folks could appreciate the artistry, but they weren't worked up about it.

The film also can be difficult to understand because it uses Dickens' 1840 English. "My spirit never walked beyond our counting-house - mark me! - in life my spirit never roved beyond the narrow limits of our money-changing hole; and weary journeys lie before me!" That makes the movie definitely not for the younger kids, and some of the scenes might be too disturbing for them anyway.

And one warning: The film opens with a swooping-from-above view of the town that for the first time gave me motion sickness at the movies. Zemeckis uses the tactic again later.