Scrooged
What's the opposite of "Bah humbug"?

I used to be irascible. Ah, those were the days. I was cranky, and surly, and full of spite. I sneered. Fluently. I knew the universal language of the disparaging snort better than any other practitioner within a four-state radius. I spat in eyes, rained on parades, burst bubbles and stole candy from babies. (Plus grown-ups, too. What? I like candy.)

But that was then. That was before I saw the proverbial light. Before Scrooged.

Of course, I knew the immortal tale of A Christmas Carol before I saw this life-changing movie. I did grow up in... well, the world, after all. I knew about the miserly Ebenezer and his unnatural love of coal. Of the nephew, and the lackey, and the twelve-step-style redemption from the path of evil through the patented scaring-the-bejesus-out-of-the-bastard method. (Funny how that always works.)

But I am a child of the now. Or, at least, of the eighties. And as such, I really didn't grasp the full impact of this Victorian fable until I saw it enacted as a modern allegory, with the part of Ebenezer being played by Bill Murray. Yes, this movie is all about Bill Murray. I love that about it.

Murray plays Frank Cross (Get it? He's cross!), a high-powered TV executive who fires people for disagreeing with him, gives his only brother a towel for Christmas, and routinely yells at his poor, beleaguered secretary Grace (Alfre Woodard) for nothing in particular. He is delighted when a disturbing commercial he masterminds, advertising the forthcoming Very Special Christmas Eve Schlock-fest that is Scrooge -- based, if you please, on the Dickens novel of the same name -- gives an old woman a heart attack. He asks his boss if he's been working out, he lies shamelessly, and he is no stranger to sexual harassment. In short, he's a role-model for us all.

But what happens is, it's Christmas time, and in an amazing confluence of circumstance that can only be attributed to fate, pre-destination, or vast quantities of tainted alcohol, mean ol' Frank is visited by the ghost of his first employer. He warns that Frank is going to end up just like him -- dead, which is pretty much a gimme, one would have thought -- and acts in altogether too much of a Marleyish manner for anyone to miss the subtlety. Frank Cross is about to be royally Scrooged.

So freaked out is he by this not-too-startling plot development that he calls his old flame Claire, the girl he loved way back in his salad days (whatever the hell a salad day is -- I prefer dessert days myself). Soon she shows up, and she proves to be sweet, and smart, and lovely... but sadly, also Karen Allen, possibly the blandest actress in the history of ever. Let's forget about her; like Frank did for fifteen, one assumes, glorious years.

Anyway, there's Frank, not-so-quietly wigging out due to his close encounter of the disgusting kind (the boss-ghost had a mouse living inside his head), and he gets so het up about the whole thing that he ends up in a cab being driven by... well, duh. The Ghost of Christmas Past, naturally. And Frank is taken back, back to his lackluster childhood, thence to his awkward adult years, and thence to his relationship with dishwater-dull Claire. When TGoCP leaves the scene, it is a humbler, more reflective Frank Cross that remains.

And, also, a weirder Frank Cross. He's all loopy and disorientated and, frankly, insane. (Heh. Frankly.) While his professional life is falling apart, and his televised Scrooge -- starring Klinger! -- is wrested from his control by the sleaziest sleazoid ever to come out of Sleazeville, he is visited by the... why, who could that be? Not the Ghost of Christmas Present, surely? Why, yes, it is, you perceptive thing, you. Carol Kane plays the kind of little-girl-voiced hard-ass she always does (Julie Benz, this is your life), who shows Frank the fun that other people who are not currently being haunted by ghosts are having.

Then, of course, comes the scary bit of the movie. The bit where Frank is questing for answers, in dire need of comfort and succor and reassurance. Which means seeing more of that damn Claire. Oh, and the Ghost of Christmas Future (nee Christmas Yet to Come). You don't even wanna know what he's all about, but can I just say that they shouldn't be allowed to do that with muppets.

You know the deal with TGoGF. He shows Frank a surreal hell-world where he's dead and he's made people miserable and he gets cremated alive. Oooh, oooh, I know what comes next! He's all converted to the side of righteousness and virtue and starts preaching the word of the Lord and the prophets and Santa Claus, and God bless us everyone. (Give me a gold star!) Of course, Claire comes back, in the midst of this whole big dramatic, slightly embarrassing Hallmark moment in front of a live audience of millions, in which Frank exhorts everyone to be better people, not just at Christmas, but all the year 'round. He yells it, and gets just a little too evangelical. There's nothing worse than a reformed Scrooge. However, as that "Put a Little Love in Your Heart" song starts playing, it's actually pretty nice and holiday-spirit-y. But much as I continue to enjoy this movie, I just don't get what the big deal is about being a bastard at Christmas. I mean, that's when it's the most fun.

Uh. I've heard.

DROOL FACTOR: I'm not ashamed to admit that I have a little crush on Bill Murray. Oh, it's not like I wanna see him naked or anything ('cause... no), but the man is a comic genius. I love him. So there.

GROSS-OUT FACTOR: Dead guy with a mouse coming out of his head, and, like, bits of his rotting arm torn off. There's other creepy stuff, but that is the pinnacle of ew. Though, cremated alive. It's a contender.

STRONG CHICK FACTOR: Claire is an outreach worker of passion and spirit, and a woman of great conviction. But how can anyone take Karen Allen seriously? The woman looks like a spaniel -- a pretty spaniel, granted, but still. Alfre Woodard, however, is inherently cool. But only 'cause she was in Star Trek: First Contact.

-- Rachel Hyland

Scrooged is currently available on video and DVD. Gub muhhab.

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