The plot: After three prior flops, and a mountain of debt
threatening to swallow him whole, Charles Dickens (Dan Stevens) is struggling
to come up with his latest novel. However, inspiration soon strikes and he
begins work on a story about ghosts, misers and the holiday of Christmas. As he
tries to navigate the hurdles in his own life, he begins to converse with the
characters he is creating to flesh out the story, in particular the character
who would go on to change Christmas as we know it forever: Ebenezer Scrooge
(Christopher Plummer).
Dan Stevens is absolutely amazing in this thing, I really
have no other way to put it. The sheer energy he puts into this more youthful
Dickens than we’re used to seeing on-screen makes him look like a creative with
an intense fire raging in his head, a fitting setup for the twists and turns
his character undergoes throughout the story. The way he articulates Dickens’
words, doing all the voices and character movements as he goes, he also does a
damn good job of portraying the man that Dickens would go on to become, that
being a theatre performer who would recite his best-known works for the masses.
Plummer has never portrayed Scrooge on screen before, and yet you would never
have guessed that with how well he wears the character’s skin, channelling a
very morose and cynical view of the world while bringing a lot of drama to the
proceedings.
Jonathan Pryce as Charles’ father, apart from looking like how
Dickens is usually portrayed in media, does very well with a rather fiddly
role. Justin Edwards as Charles’ friend John Forster fits nicely into his
scenes opposite Stevens, Anna Murphy as one of Charles’ maids Tara gives a very
definite emotional thread to the overall picture, Ger Ryan as Charles’ wife is
quite good, and Miles Jupp gives us a very scene-stealing presence as the
critic Thackeray, basically coming across like I probably do to most people in
how eager he is to tell people how much a certain work sucks.
Any form of writing, be it narrative, poetry or
even critique, ostensibly feels like the most insane thing a person can do.
Think about it: You are given a blank page (or screen, in the modern context) on
which you can create literally anything out of thin air. That process sounds
really intense, until you get a good look at someone in the middle of that
process and all of the paper scrunching and rage-half-quitting it involves.
This film’s approach to depicting the creative process shows both the literal
and the metaphysical. The literal is shown through the logistics involved in
that process, namely the funding needed to keep a roof over the artist’s head.
The metaphysical is shown through Dickens having figurative conversations with
his characters, all of whom act as if they have a will of their own beyond his
machinations.
That’s pretty accurate to how the process feels to those who
partake in it: When inspiration strikes, and you’re lucky enough to be in
proximity to something to put the ideas down on, it feels like an external
force is speaking through you, using your hands to carry out its will. That’s
what makes the frustration we see in Dickens as he tries to put the pieces of
the narrative puzzle together work as well as it does, as well as the elation
when we finally see him slot those pieces into place. We get quite a few shots
of Dickens staring with abject horror at his writing desk, and as the film
carries on, you get a clear understand of why that is.
When it comes to stories about the people who write stories,
particularly in the realms of cinema, a vital part of the equation is the
ability to contextualise that story. It isn’t just a piece of fiction being
created; it’s a narrative that the creator has
to tell to gain some kind of personal closure. Saving Mr. Banks went with
this approach, Goodbye Christopher Robin did to a lesser extent, and this film
follows suit. This is where the idea of having his characters come to life and
directly interact with him bears some rather interesting results, as we see his
work become an extension of his own mindset. While the same can be said for any
form of creative media, this film takes a more direct interest in showing what
the story said about the man himself. And the answers we get are both
illuminating and rather harrowing. As we see more of Dickens’ personal past and
his present interactions with others, framed against the story of A Christmas
Carol, we get a clear picture of a person who is unable to create a happy
ending because he can’t imagine himself forgiving the person he created. Or, rather,
who that person represents, and there’s more than one answer as to who that is.
Have to admit, even after digging into this film in my usual
fashion, one thought still keeps running through my mind. It is the same
thought that struck when I first learned of this film’s existence: Wow, that
title alone is bound to piss people off! I mean, “The Man Who Invented
Christmas”? We live in an era where there is supposedly a War On Christmas going
on between the Christians and the non-Christians; surely, this would stoke the
fire for that a bit, given how the people who even care to comment on it are
usually just looking for an excuse to whine and moan. Well, that would be
ignoring what Dickens’ work would end up doing for the holiday, and one of the
main conceits of this film.
As is mentioned a few times in the dialogue, Christmas in
Dickens’ time was a relatively small holiday. This will sound weird to those
who are bombarded with Yuletide imagery a scant day after Halloween every year,
but that’s the effect that this had. Dickens re-contextualised the religious
holiday and made it more humanist, focusing more on the sense of goodwill and
cheer that people associate with the time of year. Some of the faithful might
scoff at this for missing the point entirely, but as we see Charles rejoicing
in the holiday spirit, you can’t help but think that the man did a good thing,
however unintentionally. My family is rather secular and yet, for as long as I
can remember, we have always celebrated Christmas. I’ve always associated it
with feelings of togetherness and good cheer because of that, and it’s one of
the reasons why I put in the extra effort around the holiday season. Writing a
legendary novella in the space of six weeks, writing at least sixty-two reviews
in the space of four weeks; it gives us joy and, hopefully, gives joy to the audience so why wouldn’t
we?
All in all, this is about as solid as a Christmas film can
get. The acting is incredible, with Dan Stevens all but wiping any memories of
his turn in Beauty And The Missed Point from earlier this year, the visuals are
straight-up Dickens in how they portray Victorian-era London, and the writing
juggles metatextual analysis, biopic musings and Yuletide revisionism so
effortlessly as to make me jealous that I can’t write as well as this myself.
And as a bonus, this is one of the breeziest sits I’ve had all year; the pacing
is that damn good that this film in no way feels like it actually took 104
minutes to get through. If you’re looking for a film to watch to get you in the
Christmas spirit or holiday spirit or whatever-tradition-you-may-or-may-not-have-for-this-time-of-year
spirit, this is where you’ll find it.
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