The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015. Remaining movies: 194 Days to go: 137
Movie #244: Scrooged
Scrooged is my very favorite Christmas movie. I love it more than every other Christmas movie combined, and considering how many Christmas movies I love enough to own, that’s a lot of love for Scrooged. Truthfully, I can (and will) watch any incarnation of A Christmas Carol. It’s my favorite holiday story in general, mostly because it’s about redemption and how your choices impact your life (and only really relevant as a holiday story because the holidays are a natural time to reflect on these things), but Scrooged, as far as I’m concerned, does it the best.
Everyone from Mickey Mouse to Tori Spelling to crotchety old British guys who probably knew Dickens personally has done a version of A Christmas Carol, because it’s such a great story to tell. We’re not all Ebenezer Scrooge, of course, but we all take paths in our lives that change the course of things and we make sacrifices as a result of our choices that maybe we regret from time to time. It’s human nature. So we can all relate to the idea of revisiting those times (in memory, not with ghosts). We are all capable, even after decades of living a certain way, of having a change of heart, or reprioritizing our lives or maybe just experiencing an epiphany about mistakes we have made. That’s within all of us. So, in a way, we are all Ebenezer Scrooge.
In Scrooged, Ebenezer is embodied by Frank Cross (Bill Murray), the president of TV network IBC, who has scheduled and promoted (with much more gore and terror than your average Christmas special promotion tends to feature) a live Christmas Eve presentation of Scrooge, starring everyone from Buddy Hackett to John Houseman to Mary Lou Retton. And then some. It’s insane. (It is not, however, The Manson Family Christmas, though I do think people would watch that, particularly since that psycho got engaged. Maybe a reality show on TLC.) Frank is a cold and ungenerous man who drinks too much and thinks only of work. He fires Eliot Loudermilk (Bobcat Goldthwait) on Christmas Eve for giving a dissenting opinion. He overworks and underpays his widowed assistant Grace (Alfre Woodard). He gives people company bath towels for Christmas. Like, a single bath towel per person. The man was overdue for some Scrooging, to be perfectly honest.
So the general format follows. He’s visited by a Jacob Marley type in the form of his old boss Lew Hayward (John Forsythe), who scared me to bits with his mouse infested skull and bones like dry rot and by hanging Frank out of a skyscraper window. He warns Frank of the three ghosts to come, who turn out to be David Johansen as a hard-drinking, cigar smoking, obnoxious Ghost of Christmas Past, Carol Kane as a sadistic fairy version of the Ghost of Christmas Present, and some grim reaper type as the Ghost of Christmas Future. He’s reminded of how he used to love Christmas, but more importantly he’s reminded of how he used to love Claire (Karen Allen), who calls him Lumpy, which is equal parts embarrassing and adorable to a perfect degree. And he’s reminded of how he sacrificed his relationship with her for a shot at career advancement. He sees how Claire is going now, how she’s helping people, and he sees the consequences of him being so disdainful for it. He also gets a glimpse at Grace’s life and the hardships she endures with no relief from him. He’s particularly drawn to Grace’s young son Calvin (Nicholas Phillips) who hasn’t spoken a word since his father’s death some years ago. And he’s shown a future in which Calvin never overcomes the psychological wall holding him back. On top of that, too, he’s shown how even though he is dismissive toward the family and love offered him by his brother James (John Murray), James still loves him unconditionally and will forever. Even if no one else does.
Bill Murray is perfect in this. (He’s almost always at his best when given the chance to be smug and condescending to people.) Carol Kane is spectacular in this. Karen Allen is goofy and sweet and earnest in a way that makes it perfectly obvious how Frank could be so smitten with her. Bobcat Goldthwait is amazing as poor Eliot falls further and further from grace. And Alfre Woodard manages to pull off long-suffering without seeming pathetic or like a pushover, which is why Alfre Woodard is the best at what she does.
I love everyone in this movie, and I love the joyful silliness it infuses everything with. It’s simply the best movie of its kind, and I will brook no argument on that matter. The best best best part, though, is at the end when Calvin tugs Frank’s pants and says, mute no longer, “And God bless us, every one.” I break into elated tears every time. Every. Single. Time. There is not one viewing of Scrooged that has not made me cry with joy and relief of Calvin’s recovery. I am that much of a sap. And the little clap Grace does afterward, like she’s captured a firefly, like she’s caught his words out of the air, is just one of my favorite things.
The movie itself, as a whole, is one of my favorite things. The love and the passion with which Murray delivers Frank’s final monologue fills my heart to overflowing. It gives words to everything I really love about Christmas, how you can embrace the spirit of community and giving and reach out to people on the street or to those you haven’t seen in forever. It’s about how you can always turn that corner. You can always make that change. You can always live the life you want to live. “It’s Christmas Eve; it’s not too late.”
It’s not too late. Not too late to live a better life. Not too late to watch a Christmas movie. Not too late to enjoy a good sing-along. Go watch Scrooged. You’ll thank me.
Viable Option 