Carface Remembers He Has a Heart in An All Dogs Christmas Carol

I was browsing around Netflix yesterday when I discovered that there was an All Dogs Go to Heaven Christmas movie – and that, even better, it was available to watch online. While I raised an eyebrow over the existence of this second sequel to the animated Don Bluth film about a rough-and-tumble dog with a heart of gold, I loved the original, so I figured it would be worth a shot. As I expected, An All Dogs Christmas Carol is a cute enough, if wholly unnecessary, adaptation of the Charles Dickens classic.

After the second (rather abysmal) All Dogs Go to Heaven movie, there was evidently a television series starring these characters, and I get the sense that this movie is in line with that series. It doesn’t seem to pick right up from where the movie left off; I tried not to remember too much about that shoddy sequel, but there seemed to be some continuity issues that maybe could have been ironed out through the TV series. I’ll give it the benefit of the doubt there. Still, this movie, at a scant hour and fifteen minutes in length, basically screams “quick moneymaker” to me. It’s nothing but a retelling of A Christmas Carol, and considering the fact that the original movie was a fairly powerful story of redemption itself, giving us another redemption story here that is such an obvious rip-off doesn’t feel nearly as compelling. I mean, you could take any number of shows or movies and make the resident grouchiest / meanest character into Scrooge and use side characters as the ghosts who help him or her recover the Christmas spirit. It’s been done over and over again. One of my all-time favorite television episodes, M*A*S*H’s Dear Sis, has an element of A Christmas Carol about it. But it isn’t just a straightforward rehash, which this is.

The villainous canine gangster Carface (Ernest Borgnine) is up to his old tricks. This time, he’s got a magical gizmo that hypnotizes any dog within hearing range, allowing him to make out like a bandit when they march up to him in a daze and give him all their stuff. He and his faithful assistant, Killer (Charles Nelson Reilly), have had it with these little gigs, though. They want to pull off something truly impressive, so Carface makes a deal with the devil, or at least a truly demonic canine named Belladonna (Bebe Neuwirth). If he holds up his end of the bargain, Christmas will be ruined forever. But Charlie (Steven Weber, the third actor to voice the character), his ladylove Sasha (Sheena Easton) and his best friend Itchy (Dom DeLuise) have a plan to stop Carface. With some help from another magical gizmo, this one provided by goody-two-shoes angel Annabelle (Neuwirth), they will take a page out of Dickens’ book and try to show Carface the error of his ways.

Charlie literally hits upon the idea of essentially reenacting A Christmas Carol, so the plot is derivative even within the world of the movie. And for as vile as Carface is – much worse, really, than Scrooge, who was cranky and cold but didn’t go around trying to kill people – it sure doesn’t take long for his heart to start melting. It happens a little too quickly. Then again, I got whiplash from him going back and forth between feeling really emotional over what he was seeing and closing himself off and flying into a violent rage.

I did rather like the first two segments, though. The Christmas Past part features the only decent song in the movie, in which he sadly remembers the little boy he loved who always made excuses for his bad behavior until, one fateful Christmas, he didn’t. Which, he realizes, is why he hates Christmas so much, not to mention why he would rather use others than get attached to them. In the Christmas Present section, I love the fact that Sasha guides Carface while dressed as Santa Lucia – especially since I happened to watch it on Santa Lucia Day. The Christmas Future part, usually so terrifying and desolate, is the weakest of the three, with an annoying centerpiece of Charlie singing a gospel-tinged song about how Carface has to mend his ways.

As with A Christmas Carol - as well as All Dogs Go to Heaven - it’s a youngster in trouble who is really the deciding factor in bringing about the change in heart. In this case, it’s a puppy with a bum leg who reminds Carface of his younger self. That element is sweet enough, though one wonders why Anne Marie, the little girl he abused in the first movie, didn’t have the same sort of effect on him. Additionally, it’s not enough for Carface to awake on Christmas morning wanting to be a better dog. No, he has to decide whether or not to participate in the nefarious plan that seemed so appealing to him hours before, and this aspect of the movie is pretty goofy, since he keeps changing his mind as to whether or not to throw the all-important switch that will hypnotize every dog in San Francisco.

A Christmas Carol is a powerful story, so even though this is nowhere near the best version I have seen, it’s still reasonably touching from time to time. And it’s certainly not the worst version out there. But this is one edition of A Christmas Carol I don’t expect to turn into a Christmas tradition.

The Grumpy Shepherd Changes His Tune

Ever since Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, a frequent theme in Christmas stories has been the transformation of an irritable, antisocial character into one who is joyous and fulfilled. In Paddie Devon’s The Grumpy Shepherd, that person is Joram, a burly, surly shepherd who roams the hills outside of Bethlehem, looking after sheep he can’t stand. His fellow shepherds, Obed and Josiah, are happy enough with their lives, but Joram grumbles at every turn. Then, when an angel visitation leads his friends and him to the manger at the inn in town, Joram begins to have a change of heart...

Devon writes in prose, with a paragraph or two on most pages, though those without illustrations have more text than that. The first letter on most of the pages is extra-large and offset in a box with a simple illustration behind it. For instance, one page features a star in this box; another shows a jeweled crown. There are 15 of these, though the images repeat, so there are only half a dozen different pictures, including the top of a shepherd’s staff - which I at first thought was a snake, and I was trying to figure out how that fit in - and a piece of pottery.

The writing is fine, albeit a little simplified. I find it a little strange that the Biblical quotes are rewritten to sound slightly more contemporary and down-to-earth. The effect for me is that the announcement of the angels doesn’t sound nearly as majestic as it should. Additionally, the book specifically has Gabriel introduce himself as the leader of the contingent of angels appearing to the shepherds. While I don‘t think that this is the first book to incorporate Gabriel into this scene, the Bible never identifies him as playing a part in it, making him seem slightly out of place. I do love the choice of names for the shepherds, though.

Devon’s illustrations have an appealing warmth to them. They feel cozy with all that bright light pouring down out of the sky and the shepherds all bundled in layers of warm robes, their faces protected by thick beards. The sheep all look drowsy, while the shepherds have more animated expressions on their faces, generally cheerful for Josiah and Obed and cantankerous for Joram, whose arched eyebrows make him look especially menacing.

The climax of the book could have been written a little more smoothly for maximum effect. Seeing Jesus in the manger has an immediate effect upon Joram, and he returns to his sheep full of purpose and zest for life, but it all happens so instantaneously that it doesn’t have the strength that it could. A similar transformation is handled better in The Last Straw, which focuses on Hoshmakaka, an ornery, haughty camel who journeys to Bethlehem with the wise men. I’d recommend that first, but The Grumpy Shepherd is still a cute Christmas book with a worthwhile message.

Versions of A Christmas Carol

A Christmas Carol is so popular, it just keeps finding its way into movies...

Number 2500: Read Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol, No Matter How Many Adaptations You've Seen

When I realized that I would be reaching my 2500th post on Epinions this month, I tried to think of something I hadn’t reviewed yet that would be a good choice for a landmark review. Since December and 25 go together so well, I decided it should be a Christmas review. And then it occurred to me that I had never reviewed A Christmas Carol, the actual book as penned by Charles Dickens. Oh, I’ve reviewed film adaptations, but never the classic itself. And just after this revelation came the more startling realization that I’d never actually read it.

I felt like I had, since most productions lift large portions of dialogue directly from the book, and some - including my favorite, A Muppet Christmas Carol - incorporate bits of narration as well. Nonetheless, it only took me a couple of paragraphs, as the iconic “Marley was dead: to begin with” gives way to an amusing tangent about the dubious quality of the simile “dead as a doornail”, to be certain that I hadn’t read it before. It was around this time that it suddenly occurred to me how wickedly funny Dickens was. I suspect the skewered stylings of Lemony Snicket may owe a bit to this literary giant; I thought of him often as I burst into laughter again and again at Dickens’ amusingly intrusive narrative style.

As everyone reading this review likely knows, A Christmas Carol is the story of Ebenezer Scrooge, a reclusive miser with nary a kind word to say to anyone. Though he is a rich man, he is a stranger to generosity, and in general, those around him have learned not to expect it. His hardworking clerk, Bob Cratchit, knows better than to ask for a bit of coal with which to warm himself, and when Scrooge makes the brief journey to his austere home in the evening, young and old alike steer clear.

One man who will not be deterred is Scrooge’s eternally good-willed nephew Fred, who, upon issuing an invitation for Christmas dinner, prompts his uncle to make his most famous declaration: “Bah! Humbug!” And just in case there could be any question as to the meaning of this grumpy outburst, Scrooge spells out his feelings toward Christmas in the most ghoulish of language: “If I could work my will, every idiot who goes about with ‘Merry Christmas’ on his lips, should be boiled in his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart.”

How does a man go from this to someone of whom “it was always said... that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge”? Otherworldly intervention. For right there on the title page, Dickens indicates that this is “A Ghost Story of Christmas.” The words don’t sound right together; I always raise an eyebrow when the “scary ghost stories” line comes up in It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year. But a ghost story this certainly is, even if only the first of the four is the traditional spirit of a deceased person. The other three seem a different order of being altogether, created for a specific purpose and never having been human themselves. Sympathetic Christmas Past, jovial Christmas Present and terrifying Christmas Future serve as our guides through a story that is all about character development. A Christmas Carol may be a good deal shorter than the typical Dickens novel, but Scrooge is a richly drawn, fully realized character.

The trailers for Disney’s new edition of A Christmas Carol have been proclaiming the tale “the greatest Christmas story ever told.” An audacious claim, but not far off the mark. I would venture a guess that few books have made their way onto the screen so many different times, to say nothing of the number of theatrical productions that spring up this time every year. What’s more, some of the most enduring of Christmas classics in this past century bear the indelible mark of Dickens’ influence.

I’m thinking in particular of It’s a Wonderful Life, in which a heavenly messenger escorts a distraught George Bailey through a world in which he was never born. In a way, this is the opposite story; a man who has spent his life doing good for others must be shown, via his absence, what a positive impact he has made. And instead of going forth and bestowing blessings on everyone in sight, the many friends he has accumulated over a lifetime shower blessings upon him. I’m also strongly reminded of How the Grinch Stole Christmas, in which an ornery creature who despises Christmas is so touched by the happiness of the simple Whos despite his evil deeds that he makes a complete turn-around.

As an enormous fan of the show LOST, I can’t help crediting Dickens a bit there too. A Christmas Carol is one of the first tales that introduced me to the importance of backstory in truly understanding a character. From the beginning, flashbacks have been a hugely important element of LOST, allowing us to gain insight into these characters who gained a clean slate the moment they emerged alive from the smoldering wreckage of Flight 815. Meanwhile, starting in season three, viewers have caught glimpses of the future, prompting us to demand, “Are these the shadows of things that Will be, or are they shadows of things that May be, only?” It’s one of the crucial questions of the series, and it has yet to be answered definitively. Then, of course, there is the redemptive journey. If a bitter old curmudgeon can become a beloved benefactor, why can’t a hardened conman become a respected leader? Why can’t a drunken coward become a sacrificial hero? Why, if Scrooge can reform, perhaps there’s even hope for a homicidal sociopath like Ben Linus.

I know this story backward and forward. Nonetheless, while reading the book, I was often caught by surprise by little nuances that don’t generally make the transition from book to screen or stage. For instance, the book made me much more aware of the depth of Marley’s remorse. While he always seemed mournful to me, and even sympathetic to Scrooge’s plight, what really struck me in the book was his distress at no longer being able to directly intervene when he sees those in need. It isn’t just that he wishes he wasn’t loaded down with chains; he truly wants to help the disenfranchised now and aches to think of all he might have done in life. For just a moment, the book shows us dozens of others like him, a harrowing spectacle indeed.

In the Christmas Past section, certain details amplify the effect of the visitation. Most notably, Scrooge, on three different occasions, is moved by a moment in his distant past to wish he had treated a particular person more kindly in his much more recent past. Witnessing his own childhood loneliness, he feels for the lone caroler who came to his door. Whisked away to the merriment of a ball thrown by his magnanimous employer Fezziwig, he realizes that he has been a brutal boss. And remembering the warmth of his little sister, he regrets his refusal to get to know her orphaned son. Perhaps catching me most by surprise was Scrooge’s reaction to the teenage daughter of his former fiancee. As he sees this young woman, he suddenly longs for fatherhood himself, realizing that it could have been his. I always understood him to be deeply distressed over the loss of his one true love, but I never gave much thought to their potential children or had any inkling that he himself did.

In Christmas Present, the first thing I noticed was an overabundance of food, and this quite prevailed throughout the chapter. I always contend that one mustn’t read Brian Jacques’ Redwall series on an empty stomach, owing to the inevitable detailed descriptions of sumptuous feasts. I’d repeat that warning here. I’d almost go as far as to say that Dickens momentarily loses himself in list upon list of mouth-watering delicacies.

Another observation: more characters. Martha, the eldest of the Cratchit daughters, is already employed and living her own life. Her presence among the family is akin to Sondra’s Thanksgiving return from college in season one of The Cosby Show. Topper, a friend of Fred’s, spends the majority of his time at the Christmas party attempting to seduce one of the sisters of Fred’s wife. This is a silly subplot, but considering the lighthearted tone of much of the novel, it doesn’t feel intrusive, especially as Fred’s party is such a small part of the overall narrative. In this original version, Fred and his guests still jest a bit at Scrooge’s expense, but it doesn’t seem to bother him as it does in many adaptations.

The only aspect of Christmas Future that struck me as very different was Scrooge’s constant search for himself in this future. He is anxious to see just what has become of him, though it never occurs to him that the deceased man of whom so many speak in such derisive tones could be him. The finale, too, is rendered faithfully in most adaptations, without any significant omissions, though some versions have Scrooge paying a visit to Bob on Christmas instead of delivering his gift anonymously and then messing with his clerk’s head at work the next day.

Aside from small details like these, what interested me most was the narration. While the physical descriptions often translate to the screen beautifully, and of course Scrooge’s biting dialogue is used as liberally as possible, much of Dickens’ sly commentary gets left by the wayside. For instance, he takes a long time in explaining to us that Marley is definitely dead when the book begins, taking a brief side trip to reference Hamlet and the ghost whose appearance precipitates the rest of the story. Occasionally, he has reason to trot out an aphorism such as this: "It is always the person not in the predicament who knows what ought to have been done in it, and would unquestionably have done it too." At the same time, we get a sense of deep reverence for the holiday at hand. Fred’s festivities prompt the observation: "It is good to be children sometimes, and never better than at Christmas, when its mighty Founder was a child himself."

I could go on, but I’ll leave the rest to be discovered by others like me who know the contours of the story by heart but haven’t picked up the book, thinking they will find little within its pages to surprise them. Trust me when I say that you haven’t fully experienced this classic until you have read it in the original Dickens. Of Christmas, Fred tells Scrooge, at the conclusion of a most flowery speech, “though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!” The same might be said of A Christmas Carol.

SpongeBob and Patrick Spread Holiday Cheer in A Very Krusty Christmas

I recently reviewed A Merry Mermaid Christmas, declaring it the first Christmas story I’d read that takes place underwater. Hot on its heels, I’ve found a second: A Very Krusty Christmas, set in Bikini Bottom rather than Atlantica and starring the always-lovable SpongeBob SquarePants, the bright yellow sponge who “lives in a pineapple under the sea“ with his pet snail and looks at the world with wide-eyed wonder.

Given SpongeBob’s enthusiastic nature, it’s no surprise that he is a fan of Christmas. In this book, written by David Lewman and illustrated by Robert Dress, we see right off the bat just how eager SpongeBob is as he’s decorated with oodles of brightly colored lights. Now, considering the fact that he is thousands of leagues under the sea, I have no idea how these lights are able to turn on, let alone how he can flip the switch without getting electrocuted. But this is a show on which starfish eat burgers and snails meow, so I long ago learned not to expect too much logic from the sponge and the gang.

There’s a touch of A Christmas Carol to this cheerful story. Decent, hardworking SpongeBob is like Bob Cratchit, while ornery neighbor Squidward takes a “bah humbug” attitude toward the holiday. For the most part, though, this is an original tale that involves Mr. Krabs, the cantankerous owner of the Krusty Krab, where both SpongeBob and Squidward work, coming to appreciate the economic value of presenting a Christmassy restaurant.

SpongeBob’s excess of Christmas spirit irritates both Squidward and Mr. Krabs, but once the nefarious Plankton decks out his own eatery, the Chum Bucket, as festively as possible and the customers flock in, the sponge and his faithful pal Patrick have a chance to give the Crab Shack a Christmas make-over. Will that solve everyone’s seasonal woes?

This is a silly story that is nonetheless rather charming, since SpongeBob is such a sincere sponge and Patrick is his stalwart shadow. Fans of the series will find in this book plenty of familiar characters and lively illustrations, along with a unique spin on some Christmas traditions. So pull up your boatmobile and celebrate A Very Krusty Christmas with SpongeBob SquarePants.

Ebenezer Bunny Gets a New Shot at Easter in Springtime With Roo

I recently reinstated my Netflix account, taking it off hold in anticipation of renting a plethora of Christmas movies to help get me in the holiday spirit. But I haven’t gotten around to updating my queue, so the first few movies have been surprises to me. I had to laugh at the seasonally inappropriate nature of my latest selection when I spotted the title Springtime With Roo. However, while the movie, with its array of Technicolor flowers and its emphasis on Easter, is thoroughly rooted in spring, except for the puzzling appearance of a wheelbarrow full of pumpkins, I discovered that it wasn’t such an oddball choice for the Christmas season after all.

Springtime With Roo, like most Winnie-the-Pooh movies, is on the short side. Clocking in at just about an hour, this direct-to-video release begins with a hyper Roo (Jimmy Bennett) disturbing the tranquil opening narration of David Ogden Stiers, who explains that the young joey will be the subject of this particular tale. To some extent that’s true, though the movie is just as much about Rabbit (Ken Sansom), who sets the main conflict in motion when he shatters his friends’ anticipation over the annual Easter egg hunt by declaring it Spring Cleaning Day instead. It soon becomes clear that Rabbit no longer considers Easter an acceptable holiday, and while Roo is disappointed to be missing out on so much fun, his biggest concern is his friend’s unhappiness.

It took me a while to cotton on to this, but Springtime With Roo, much like Veggie Tales’ An Easter Carol, is an adaptation of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. Persnickety Rabbit is an ideal choice to play the role of curmudgeonly old codger; he’s as much a neat freak as Scrooge is a miser, and at his worst, he can be quite the misanthrope. Owl might have been a good choice too, but he doesn’t make an appearance in this video, nor does Christopher Robin. Gopher isn’t in the main feature but does turn up, in typical pyro mode, in the New Adventures of Winnie the Pooh episode Trap as Trap Can, which follows Hunny for a Bunny in the Special Features.

Though the nods to the original story are not as plenteous as they could be, Roo is an excellent stand-in for Tiny Tim, while Tigger (Jim Cummings) exudes a Fred-like joie de vivre. Meanwhile, the narrator, with some help from the storybook and Tigger, provides the proper ghostly framework. The tale’s inspiration is most obvious toward the end, when Rabbit repents, first distraught over his friendless future, then “giddy as a school bunny” that he’s been given a second chance. At this point, if anyone still hasn’t gotten the reference, Tigger, with a broad wink at the viewers, demands, “What the Dickens - and I do mean Dickens - is going on here?”

Tigger gets all the best lines in this flick, with energetic bursts of jibberish that lead to him uttering one of my favorite words: onomatopoeia! Equally random: at one point, while showing Roo all of his Easter gear, Tigger accidentally unearths a dreidel. “Whoops, wrong holiday!” he amends. He also gets to sing a couple of short songs, as do most of the main characters. Eeyore (Peter Cullen) doesn’t have any songs to himself, but his fondness for a pair of fluffy bunny ears is good for a lot of laughs. While none of the musical numbers are still rattling around in my head, they’re fun in context.

Among the Special Features, the First Look at The Magical World of Winnie the Pooh is most worth perusing. What it amounts to is two episodes of the aforementioned series; Magical World was evidently the name of a set of DVDs containing episodes from the show. The first, in which Rabbit decides to give away his beloved bunny bookend because he believes he will never find its mate, fits particularly well with the movie, while the second is a fun romp involving a scrawny heffalump and his burly, heavily allergic father.

Sounds of Spring features three clickable scenes; click on the arrow pointing to an object and hear a corresponding noise. This activity is rather fun, but Decorate Rabbit’s House is annoying, since it is constantly correcting the improper placement of decorations. After a movie in which Rabbit’s fastidiousness proves to be problematic, it seems to go against message to insist decorations go in one particular spot when they would look just as good someplace else. Another feature includes step-by-step instructions for making a sort of butterfly puppet that looks neat but seems like it would fall apart easily. The rest of the features are DVD registration and a preview for Pooh’s Heffalump Movie.

Even though Springtime for Roo is an Easter story, its Dickensian nature renders it a suitable choice for this time of year, since it’s fun to compare it to the oodles of other versions of A Christmas Carol floating around. I’m still waiting for Eeyore to get a centric Pooh movie, but I have no complaints about this outing with Rabbit and Roo.

A Christmas Carol

It's hard to beat George C. Scott as Ebenezer Scrooge and David Warner as Bob Cratchit in my dad's favorite version of A Christmas Carol.  (It's a close second for me; the Muppets still have to top my list.)