A Word In Edgewise: A Splendid Carol For Our Times

Appalled by what he’d learned about the lives of poor children, Charles Dickens thought to write a pamphlet, “An appeal to the People of England on behalf of the Poor Man’s Child.” Fortunately, he soon realized a more intimate narrative would have greater impact. Within two months, A Christmas Carol was conceived, gestated and birthed to the public in December, 1843.

The novella was hugely popular then, and remains a holiday staple to this day, in print, in films, on stage. Guthrie’s “A Christmas Carol” debuted at the old venue in 1975, and has been an annual sell-out ever since. For many years, the narrative was interspersed with elaborate, Busby-Berkeley-esque, song and dance numbers with leashed faux Fidos and turkeys, scampering urchins, general “business.”

Not just a fancy of modern directors, if one thinks about it. Many Victorian illustrators’ conceptions reveal teeming Fezziwig fests, giant spirit images, clanking, spectral Marleys. “Victorian” itself conjures overstuffed furniture, multi-coursed, gargantuan feasts, freely flowing wine and ale… “The groaning board” was no exaggeration. Contemporary artist John Leech would have approved a Christmas Spirit descending from upper-up-stage in harness and wires. It was an era that doted on the supernatural and ghost stories: Carol fulfilled.

There had been changes and variations  through the years, but Lavinia Jadhwani’s 2021 adaptation brought a sea change that considerably pared back the hoop-la and focused on Dickens’s text, while this year’s direction by Addie Gorlin-Han, based on the original direction by Joseph Haj has worked a wonder; even less of the distracting action–and a tightening of costuming and staging–and the scene became more a neighborhood with residents interacting than dancers coming into a neighborhood to perform.

Tightening doesn’t imply a lack of style in costume or lack of humor. Much humor/wit is expressed through internal action and expression, more than applied externally, and so becomes more intimate. The fiction of daughter Martha Cratchit missing Christmas dinner was mercifully shortened. Dickens knew a Martha would have worked 16-hour days, six days a week and roomed above the factory. Drawing out, beyond a moment or two, the deceit of her missing Christmas, would, for Bob Cratchit, have been a torment, not a tease. 

Actors Charity Jones, John Catron, Greta Ogelsby, Nathaniel Fuller and others, have joined the cast several times, through many moods. Matthew Saldivar played his third Scrooge, and this time radiated a guileless, childlike glee at his transformation; not that of a miser buying his way out, but of a kid’s transparent wonder at an unexpected gift. “I don’t understand it!”

Music was used effectively not just for partying, but to accentuate and enhance, while the townspeople themselves, by costume and grouping, were more a Greek chorus, actively commenting, waiting, knowing Scrooge’s decisions will affect them as well as the Cratchits; everyone, not just Tiny Tim, has a stake in the game.

A pamphlet turned novella touching millions; a play turned from showbiz-opulent to the almost-pamphlet’s heart: the plight of poor children. Dickens distilled them into Ignorance and Want: that plight not yet addressed.

At the Guthrie’s Wurtle Thrust Stage through December 30th.