Beyond the Burrow

I venture out with the Coypette & friends to watch Disney's A Christmas Carol.

Despite its sheer beauty – there's extraordinary art in the detailed rendering of faces & 19th century London scenes, & the kookiness of casting Gary Oldman as the voice of Tiny Tim – it leaves me colder than Bob Cratchit's fingers.

First, a confession. I don't like Dickens that much*. Yep, he is, undoubtedly, one of the greatest storytellers ever. But the moral & philosophical signposting is too directive & I can't bear being told what to think & feel.

So, not a good start for a film that – scriptwise – is faithful to the original. But it's the velocity of the piece – & the focus on speed & distances covered that irritates most. Too much Scrooge dragged sweeping round the London streets & over the skyline by spirits behaving like the Snowman on speed… Or running through drainpipes miniaturised and pursued by the Reaperish Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come & his team of red-eyed shadow-horses.

With all that going on, when & how can Scrooge have time to catch his breath, let alone manage a change of heart?

2.5 biscuits out of 5.



* OK, I've only read Oliver Twist, Martin Chuzzlewit, Nicholas Nickleby & A Christmas Carol…