“Come In! And Know Me Better, Man!" | Seymour Hicks (1935)

In Henry Edwards' Scrooge, Seymour Hicks' Ebenezer wakes up in his bed before the strike of One and even predicts the tolling of the bell before it comes. I haven't been impressed with this version so far, but it does this part of the scene nicely, having Scrooge look around the room as if he expects something and then pulling the bedsheets over his head when nothing happens right away. 

He peeks out again just in time to see the lighting change and flicker wildly. So he gets up and goes to the other room where he sees the new ghost.

I'm not as excited about the actual Ghost in this version, but that's not a surprise considering the invisible Marley and the blurry Ghost of Christmas Past. At least this one is corporeal, but Edwards has taken big liberties with its appearance.

The room is impressive though with a blazing fire in the fireplace, stockings hung on the hearth, and greenery and food everywhere. The Ghost is sitting on a raised surface above the feast and appears quite large in more ways that one. At least he does until Scrooge walks over and stands next to him to provide some perspective. Scrooge is as tall standing up as the Ghost is sitting down. He's fat, but he's no giant.

He doesn't have room for a torch of any shape because he's got two fistfuls of food that he gnaws on throughout the scene, pausing to smack between lines of dialogue, then tossing his meat on the floor to pick up a goblet. He's probably shirtless under his robe (white-furred and presumably green, but it's a black-and-white film and that's impossible to tell). The robe is pulled tight around his neck though, so no broad, bare chest here. And his hair is all wrong from his short haircut to his beardless face.

I don't think we ever get a good enough look at the Ghost when he's standing to tell if he's barefoot or carries a sheath, but this version finally puts icicles on the holly crown. They're big ones that poke out in all directions like spikes.

This Scrooge has been a passive, defeated character almost from the beginning of the ghosts' visits. He's been one of the quickest to change and it's natural that he gets to say the line about having learned a lesson which is still working on him. In fact, he says this with hands together as if he's praying, so he's quite penitent.

The Ghost then invites Scrooge to touch the Ghost's robe and explains that he's about to show Scrooge how his poor clerk keeps Christmas. Scrooge already looks ashamed and hesitant about this, so the Ghost commands again, "Touch my robe." 

Scrooge lifts his hand dramatically and lays it on the Ghost's sleeve. Smash cut to the next scene.

“Another Idol Has Displaced Me” | Seymour Hicks (1935)

In Henry Edwards' Scrooge, Belle walks into Scrooge's office just as he's sending a couple to the workhouse for not paying their debt. The couple pleads, but Scrooge is resolute and Belle hears the whole thing. 

Once the couple leaves, Belle confronts Scrooge. "So it is true." She's been hearing rumors about Scrooge's ruthlessness, but has apparently resisted believing it. Rather than any recent bereavement of her own, this Belle is facing sudden, hard truth about the man she's engaged to. She's ticked off in the early part of the scene and can't even look at him for a good, long while.

He tries to explain himself and he's very logical about it. This is just the way he does business and he insists on leaving sentiment out of it. Belle points out the harshness of his refusal to offer the couple even "a little breathing space," but Scrooge puts his own foot down. He sees her compassion as feminine weakness and asks that she leave his business concerns alone. He says that he'll be even more insistent about it once they're married, but by this point she's already removed her engagement ring and set it on his fireplace mantle. Scrooge can't believe what's happening, but he still talks to her formally and with what he believes is authority. Belle softens, no longer angry, but she's resigned and sad.

She never mentions fear in the scene, but I think that element comes through in other parts of the dialogue and in Hicks' performance. He's struggling hard to conduct business in what he thinks is the smartest way while resisting the influence of Belle's merciful attitude. While he never lets up or changes his demeanor, he's clearly shaken by her and I believed frightened by the effect she could potentially have on him.

Looking on, Old Scrooge continues to be passive and weak. He doesn't argue with the Spirit or demand anything, he just looks defeated. But the Ghost isn't done with him and we do get to see the scene of Belle and her family.

It's a pretty great version of this scene. I tried to add up the number of children running around the parlor and counted almost 20. They're a big enough group to have formed two circles for running and singing "Here We Go Gathering Nuts in May." Belle leads seven kids around the Christmas tree and her oldest daughter leads five more near a table where another five kids are banging and playing musical instruments. It's the definition of large and boisterous, if slightly more organized than what Dickens described.

Dad comes in and he's alone in this version, instead of accompanied by a porter. That's because his presents for the kids are small and tucked into his coat pockets, but the children know what's what and rush him anyway to collect their gifts.

After that, Belle and her husband have their conversation as Dickens wrote it, but rather than cut immediately to Scrooge, the camera lingers on the couple long enough for Belle to kiss her husband and hug her children appreciatively. Dickens doesn't really say what her reaction is to the news that Scrooge is alone and about to lose his remaining friend, but I love seeing that it makes her even more grateful for the people in her own life.

Still passive, Old Scrooge looks exhausted as he asks the Ghost to haunt him no more. But when the Spirit declares that these visions are Scrooge's own fault, Scrooge is angry enough to raise a fist and shout something. I'd like to know what he shouts, but in my print of the film, it's cut off and the scene immediately cuts to Scrooge asleep in his bed. This Ghost carried no extinguisher cap, so we wouldn't have had that part of it at any rate. I bet the intention was always to smash cut from the vision to Scrooge's room. But I'd like to know what Scrooge was yelling and if it suggested that he was finally getting a backbone about what's happening to him. I want to put a pin in this and see if he's more engaged with the next Spirit.

“Why, It’s Old Fezziwig!” | Seymour Hicks (1935)

As I mentioned last year, Henry Edwards' Scrooge skips both the schoolhouse scene and Fezziwig's warehouse and goes straight to breaking up with Belle. We'll catch up to it next year.

“I Was a Boy Here!” | Seymour Hicks (1935)

Henry Edwards' Scrooge skips this scene completely. There's not even a transition sequence. The Spirit addresses Scrooge in his room and then instantly they're in another. But it's not the school or even Fezziwig's warehouse. We won't have much to say about this version for another couple of years when we catch up to it again.

“Your Reclamation, Then” | Seymour Hicks (1935)

Index of other entries in The Christmas Carol Project

After Scrooge goes to bed in director Henry Edwards' Scrooge, the film cuts to outside where a lamplighter is actually snuffing out street lamps. Back inside, Scrooge sleepily tries to snuff out his own bedside candle, but he's too tired and drifts off with it still lit. It would be nice if all this snuffing of lights was foreshadowing of the Spirit and its cap, but it's not, because this version of the Spirit won't even have a cap. It could be a metaphor though, as Scrooge tries to respond to the darkening world by putting out his own light, but fails.

If that's the case, then it's interesting that he fails because he's too weak. Seymour Hicks' Scrooge has been very weak so far, so it's easy to imagine why he's failed to resist despair and has basically just given up on life. But now that forces of light are rallying around him, he appears too weak to resist them either. He was frightened and childlike around Marley and he's going to act similarly with the first spirit. Which raises a concerning question about whether or not Scrooge's transformation is going to stick. Is he just a piece of grass, blown by the wind in whatever direction it decides to push him? Or is he going to be able to find something within himself during these three visits that will make him a stronger person?

After Scrooge drifts off, a town crier appears in the street below to announce the hour of midnight (the time of the first ghostly visit, according to Marley, earlier). The crier's assertion that "all's well" is humorous since we know what's about to happen upstairs in Scrooge's room.

Scrooge wakes up and the music gives us some spooky strings as warning that something's about to happen. The old man sits up in bed as a ghostly aura forms near his foot. It never forms into anything solid; it's just a vaguely humanoid figure of light. It's voice is masculine though when it announces that it's the Spirit of Christmas Past.

Scrooge never says a word to it. He just looks sort of awestruck. The Spirit does all the talking, revealing that it's "here to show you the things that have been," and then commanding Scrooge to "look back beyond the gulf of banished years." Scrooge doesn't question or argue. He's completely passive.

“More of Gravy than of Grave” | Seymour Hicks (1935)

Index of other entries in The Christmas Carol Project

Director Henry Edwards' Scrooge does something similar to Zemeckis' when it comes to the door knocker. Scrooge doesn't drop his keys in this version, but he does stand and fumble for them for a second. As he approached the door, there was a clear view of the ordinary (and rather plain) knocker, but when Scrooge has found his keys and looks up to put them in the lock, he's startled by Marley's face superimposed over an otherwise featureless knocker. It fades away before Scrooge's eyes.

Inside, Scrooge looks kind of suspiciously at the back side of the door, something that Dickens mentions, but most adaptations don't care about. He lights his candle and heads upstairs. There's nothing remarkable about the stairs. They're not wide and nothing happens on them. Scrooge is definitely frightened though. He checks out his rooms with his cane held in front of him like a weapon. He rattles it under a table to make sure no one is hiding there. He pokes it into his bed and uses it to pull back the curtains. And in a great moment, he's spooked by his dressing gown that's hanging by the window and that certainly does look like someone's standing there. Even when he realizes what it is, he pokes it a couple of times to be sure.

Satisfied, he checks out a last, little room that I first thought might be the lumber-room Dickens mentioned, because I hadn't done my research and assumed that a lumber-room was likely used for storing firewood. But a lumber-room was actually used in large, old houses to store furniture that wasn't being used. The extra room in Zemeckis' version is full of covered up furniture, so that's a proper lumber-room. I suppose this tiny closet off of Scrooge's bedroom in Edwards' film could also be a lumber-room, but it's a very humble one if so.

He finally settles in to eat some gruel and the servant bell rings. It's just the one for a while and it starts timidly before picking up energy and eventually being joined by others. None of them are exactly clanging though; in fact, it's a rather pleasant chorus for the most part. Oddly, Scrooge gets up and goes to the window where he can look down at his front steps. It's weird, because none of the bells are door bells, but of course there's no one there and this makes Scrooge even more uncomfortable.

The chimes slowly settle down, but with the last one is the sound of a door slamming shut somewhere else in the house. I like the quiet terror portrayed by Seymour Hicks. He's not visibly shaking and his face is composed, but there's worry in his eyes and he clenches his hands as if he's very cold.

The closing door must have come from down the hall, because we only hear a couple of steps worth of dragging chains before Scrooge's door opens. Surprisingly - for those who know the story - there's no one there, but a voice says, "Look well, Ebenezer Scrooge, for only you can see me." It's a ridiculous thing for Marley to say when Scrooge is alone in the house, but of course he's referring to the viewers. And sadly, the entire scene is played with Scrooge's addressing an invisible Marley. I don't understand why we got Marley's face downstairs and this penny-pinching effect in Scrooge's room.

Hicks' Scrooge has been characterized so far as a weak, miserable, old complainer and that continues in this scene. Confronted with Marley, he's trembling now and even his voice quavers as he begs for an explanation. He wasn't even that strong with Cratchit; he's completely at Marley's mercy. There's no argument about whether Scrooge is hallucinating and Marley never even has to raise his voice. Marley talks to Scrooge like a teacher instructing a disobedient student.

Marley explains that Scrooge will be visited by three ghosts and even explains that they're the "visions of a Christmas Past, a Christmas Present, and a Christmas Yet to Come." He says that the first will arrive that night at midnight (different from Dickens' 1:00 am), but doesn't mention the schedule for the other two.

His message complete, Marley apparently goes into Scrooge's bedroom, because Scrooge cries Marley's name a couple of times and follows the ghost there. The way Scrooge cries, "Marley!" is pitiful, like a child calling for a parent. That may be a better metaphor than the teacher/student one I used before. This Scrooge is so weak and Marley's voice is strong and commanding. Marley had to have been the dominant partner in their relationship and even though Scrooge is terrified, he doesn't want Marley to go. He probably wants Marley to stay and protect him through the coming visits.

The window to Scrooge's bedroom opens by itself and Scrooge rushes to it, still calling for Marley. There are no other phantoms outside (that we can see, anyway), but there's an awful snowstorm going and the music gets quite loud and boisterous. Scrooge tries to rally with a "Bah, Hum--" but the window closes by itself and cuts him off. (Unfortunately, the effect is ruined by some lag between Scrooge's "Hum" and the slamming of the window, but it's obvious what the movie is trying to do there.)

Scrooge goes back to look outside again, but the storm is gone now and the city looks peaceful. It feels like another money-saving effort that the movie cuts out the mourning spirits, but it's not the only adaptation to do that, so I can't be too upset. And the suddenly calmed snowstorm is a nice bit of spookiness to help Scrooge accept that he's not just imaging things. He certainly looks tired and defeated as he turns back towards bed.

His Usual Melancholy Tavern | Seymour Hicks (1935)

Index of other entries in The Christmas Carol Project

Director Henry Edwards' Scrooge does a lot with our scene this year and it's one of the reasons I wanted to keep it separate instead of rolling into another one. The movie picks up a lot of things that Dickens had earlier in the story and presents them in the time between Scrooge's leaving the office and arriving home. There's Cratchit's joining the neighborhood boys for a slide on the ice, but we also check in on other Christmas celebrants. Fred comes home with loads of packages while Cratchit makes it safely to his place with the holiday bird and sprig of greenery. The music is cheery and all the dreariness of the earlier outdoor scene is gone. Christmas is finally in full force.

There's an especially lovely bit at the Lord Mayor's house, making this one of the few versions to adapt that part of Dickens' text. It's not exactly as written, but we get to see all the preparations for a luxurious feast as guests arrive and the wine-tasters, bakers, and various chefs go about their business. In a beautiful representation of Dickens' primary theme, we also see a crowd of street people looking hungrily in through the window at the bustling kitchen. And it's gratifying when one of the chefs brings over a plate of unusable food to distribute to them. Later, when the Lord Mayor leads his guests in a toast and a chorus of "God Save the Queen," those outside the mansion sing just as faithfully and loudly. Politics aside, it's a touching example of camaraderie and national pride.

All this joy is contrasted with Scrooge as he "Humbugs" his way past well-wishers and enters his tavern. It is quite melancholy, since he's the only patron. The landlord is actually sleeping at a table until Scrooge enters and wakes him up with a rap of his cane on another piece of furniture. After a solitary meal, Scrooge makes his lonely walk home and we get this version's account of the blind man's dog that doesn't like the old miser.

It's tough to figure at what point Scrooge arrives at his house. The scene has him walking through a couple of sets to get there and when he goes through a large gate just before a cut to his front door, I can't tell if that's the gate to his house or just another part of London. If it's his house though, it's impressive. Either way, by having Scrooge go through so many empty sets, the movie does a nice job of expressing how isolated and out of the way his place is.

It also finds a clever way to reveal that Scrooge isn't the original owner of the place. On the front door is a sign with Marley and Scrooge's names on it and - just like the one at the office - Marley's is scratched out. I guess that implies that Marley and Scrooge were housemates, rather than Scrooge's inheriting it from his partner, but it's cool that the sign is right under the infamous knocker that's about to call Marley's existential status into question.

“If Quite Convenient, Sir" | Seymour Hicks (1935)

Index of other entries in The Christmas Carol Project

After Scrooge's nephew leaves, the '35 Scrooge has a quick cut from the interior of the office to the exterior, looking in through a window. That could indicate some passage of time, but it doesn't necessarily. As we look in on Scrooge, some small silhouettes block part of the window and begin singing.

Their tune is "Good King Wenceslas" instead of Dickens' "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen," but Scrooge's reaction is the same. He picks up a heavy-looking object that could be a ruler, but is more rod-shaped, and heads to the door with it. The boys run off, but we get a good look at one of them as they're singing and there's no joy in his performance. He looks tired. This is a job for him and it fits the mood introduced in the movie's opening scene. It's the holidays, but not many people are all that fired up about it. Fred seems to be in the minority.

As Scrooge turns back to the office after running off the carollers, the clock chimes and Cratchit starts shutting down his work. Scrooge barks at him, accuses him of being lazy, and declares that the office clock is fast. Cratchit defends himself though, politely. He doesn't appear to be afraid of Scrooge or of losing his job so much as he simply wants to avoid conflict. Sir Seymour Hicks' Scrooge is a weak, miserable, old man who complains a lot, but Cratchit seems to realize that there aren't any real teeth in his threats.

Scrooge brings up the day off, again throwing Cratchit into defensive mode about it's being only once a year. When Scrooge says that it isn't fair, it's just another complaint, so he doesn't create any sympathy. Cratchit's main challenge in his job is to endure Scrooge's griping and deflect as much of it as he can. That's a smart tactic, because apparently Scrooge likes to complain just to complain. Though he rumbles about Cratchit's leaving time, Scrooge immediately starts getting ready, too.

Scrooge and Cratchit walk out together and when Scrooge hands over the key to Cratchit, he does it at the same time that he instructs Cratchit to be there all the earlier the next day. I thought that maybe he's telling Cratchit that he has to open the office the day after Christmas, which would've been a nice touch, but when they get outside, it looks like Cratchit locks up and gives the key back to Scrooge. My print of the film is dark in that shot and it's hard to tell exactly what Cratchit hands his boss, but I think it's the key.

Which doesn't make a lot of sense, but Hicks' Scrooge doesn't always make sense. I wouldn't put it past him to display his power by making Cratchit turn the lock, but then take the key back as a sign of distrust. I feel bad for this Cratchit. He seems like a nice, capable man, but Scrooge sure keeps him on his toes.

'You Wish to Be Anonymous?' | Seymour Hicks (1935)

1935's Scrooge omits the charitable solicitors altogether, which calls into question the usefulness of the scene. Some adaptations make in interchangeable with Fred's visit and now we have a version that simply leaves it out.

As I argued when we looked at Dickens' version, I do think the solicitors' scene is doing something different from Fred's, but the significance of that difference could be up for debate and I acknowledge that simply leaving out the solicitors is a valid option (though not, in my opinion, the preferable one).

Frankly, I'd be surprised that it isn't deleted from more versions except that the "surplus population" line is such a classic.

'Merry Christmas, Uncle!' | Seymour Hicks (1935)

After a dismal first scene in which Scrooge threatens his clerk's job over the shovel-full of coal ("It is very evident to me, sir, you know, that my interest is not your interest, nor my welfare your welfare."), we cut to the street outside where a gentleman carrying Christmas bundles is walking along to a merry little marching tune. He stops to buy something from a street vendor and then goes inside to Scrooge's office.

It's the nephew, of course. He barges in and surprises Scrooge who looks shaken by the abrupt interruption. As the conversation begins, he lays his packages right on Scrooge's desk, though he doesn't seem to disrupt the papers that Scrooge is working with.

The dialogue is all right out of Dickens, slightly abridged (especially during the nephew's speech at the end) and with a few improvisations ("not a penny richer" instead of "not an hour richer," for instance). The nephew isn't overly jolly - he seems to know he's in for a battle and is prepared for it - but he's cheerful and even keeps his sense of humor when Scrooge intentionally knocks one of his packages off the desk (to punctuate his comment about paying bills without money).

The camera stays on Scrooge most of the time, allowing Hicks to seem genuinely bewildered and frustrated by the merry-making. When he says, "Keep Christmas in your own way, and let me keep it in mine," he looks almost hurt that he's being so imposed upon. Hicks humanizes his Scrooge, breaking eye contact after lines like burying celebrants with a stake of holly through their hearts, as if he's realized he's gone too far, but isn't willing to take it back and weaken his position. It's really a lovely performance.

After the nephew's final speech, Cratchit "applauds" by tapping on his candlestick and proclaiming, "Hear! Hear!" a couple of times. Unfortunately, the adaptation leaves out the bit about his quickly correcting himself and accidentally extinguishing his fire.

As Scrooge turns to threaten Cratchit's job again, his nephew takes the opportunity to gather his packages. He's got them all organized and is leisurely making his way towards the door by the time Scrooge returns his attention to him and "compliments" him on the power of his speech.

We never see Cratchit's reaction to being threatened again, so there's no help from this scene in determining how seriously Cratchit takes Scrooge's threats. In the previous one, he seemed surprised when Scrooge suggested they part company, and he looked at the floor as Scrooge launched into a rant about it. When it became apparent that Scrooge wasn't really going to fire him, Cratchit still looked pained, but it could have been "Not this again" as easily as "I really dodged that bullet."

When the nephew invites Scrooge to dinner, Scrooge replies, "I'll see you -- " and is quickly interrupted by the nephew's asking him why not. Was mentioning Hell a no-no in 1935 the way it was in Dickens' day?

We get no help from this scene in determining why Scrooge dislikes his nephew so much. He offers the marriage as an excuse, but they keep the line about Scrooge's attitude's predating the marriage, so it's still a mystery for now.

In the novel, Scrooge sticks to "Good afternoon" as his comment to the nephew's continued good wishes. In this film, Scrooge adds a final, "You're a noisy devil! That's what you are, sir!" It's almost affectionate if Scrooge didn't sound so sincere.

The movie of course fills in the nephew's good-byes with Cratchit. They're pretty generic, but we do learn the nephew's name through Cratchit's inclusion of "Mrs. Fred" in his greetings. Fred throws a couple of more "Merry Christmas"es at Scrooge - which go ignored - before he leaves.

Old Sinner: Seymour Hicks (1935)

1935's Scrooge starring Sir Seymour Hicks opens with Dickens’ Preface to the story. Except for removing a couple of commas and spelling out Dickens' name (he signs the Preface with his initials in the book), it's exactly as Dickens wrote it. Here's the movie version:

I have endeavoured in this Ghostly little book to raise the Ghost of an Idea which shall not put my readers out of humour with themselves, with each other, with the season, or with me. May it haunt their houses pleasantly, and no one wish to lay it.

Their faithful Friend and Servant, Charles Dickens

December, 1843

I’m not sure why the movie opens with that other than to call Dickens to mind and maybe put the viewer in the proper mood, though it doesn't mention Christmas at all. On the other hand, the movie's already playing "Hark, the Herald Angels Sing" (the unofficial Christmas Carol theme song for most of the early films) over the credits and Preface anyway, so it doesn't need text to accomplish that goal. I’m thinking that the Preface is just flavor.

After the Preface we get a scene of snow-covered London as a sad, Salvation Army-style band plays “The First Noel.” You can tell it’s London by the dome of St. Paul’s cathedral in the skyline. That’s the landmark that most of these movies use in their opening shots. So there’s your setting: London at Christmas time and things are fairly gloomy.

We don’t learn about Marley just yet in this version either. Instead, like in 1910, we go straight into Scrooge’s office where the clerk is patting himself and trying to warm his hands over a single candle. When he finally decides to try and sneak some coal, Scrooge fusses at him and forbids it, making vague threats about firing the poor clerk. The clerk humbly puts on a scarf instead.

We don't learn the clerk's name yet, but we do find out that he's got a half-dozen kids to support: three boys and three girls.

Hicks’ Scrooge is hunched over at his desk when we meet him. Instead of imposing, he’s a small, pathetic-looking character with untidy hair. He’s only threatening because he controls the wallet. It’s not really fair to compare him to McDermott’s Scrooge, whom we’ve seen so little of so far, but Hicks doesn’t just look mean for its own sake. He’s convincingly miserable and I fully believe that he wants to share that misery with everyone around him.

It's interesting that though the literary Scrooge conjures up images like Hicks, the most memorable movie performances (Alastair Sim and Greorge C Scott, for example) portray Scrooge not as small and pathetic, but the way Mark McDermott did in 1910: a tall, powerful man. Not right away though. Our next Scrooge - 1938's Reginald Owen - will also be of the hunched variety.