Corydon Melgoza, Audrey Moore, Matt Takahashi, Grace Jenkins, and Jack Thomas Aitken (Photo by Doug Catiller)
Reviewed by Joel Beers
Chance Theater
Through Dec.21
RECOMMENDED
All you need to know about where Scrooge! The Musical lands on the vast spectrum of media treatments of Charles Dickens’s 1843 novella, comes down to one omission and one addition. Missing is the darkest element of Dickens’ original — the two emaciated children cloaked in rags — Want and Ignorance — revealed cowering behind the robes of the otherwise garrulous Ghost of Christmas Present. Added is the titular character, Ebenezer Scrooge, newly reformed after his long dark night of the soul, dressed as Santa Claus and handing out presents to the family of his long-suffering clerk, Bob Cratchit.
The show, which premiered in 1992 as a stage musical adaptation of Leslie Bricusse’s 1970 musical film, replaces Dickens’s (admittedly heavy-handed) symbols of the consequences of ignoring poverty — the Ghost explicitly tells Scrooge that this spells doom — with the embodiment of seasonal cheer (and rampant consumerism) This doesn’t alter the story’s arc, since so many elements remain the same: Scrooge still reforms; he still reconciles with his nephew; Cratchit still gets a raise; Tiny Tim still gets the best doctors; and the Cratchit family’s scrawny goose is still swapped for a giant turkey fresh off the farm of Christmas Too Much.
But subbing Want and Ignorance with Mall Santa does more than soften the edges — it lets the audience off the hook. Dickens meant those children to stare straight at the reader, a reminder that Scrooge’s failings weren’t his alone but society’s. Without them, the tale shifts from a broader indictment of societal neglect and structural poverty into one of personal morality: less moral reckoning, more comforting fable. The problem isn’t systemic; it’s just one cranky old man who needs a ghostly wake-up call and a bigger bird.
Then again, this wasn’t the first or last time that these grim harbingers didn’t survive the cutting room floor. There are a number of possible reasons why: the disturbing tone, a desire for a simpler redemption story (centered on the individual rather than society), or, perhaps most germane in a musical adaptation, the need to compress or streamline the plot to fit time constraints. Whatever the reason, many adaptations have stripped these allegorical elements in pursuit of a more family-friendly ambience.
And as far as feel-good adaptations go, there’s nothing wrong with this James Michael McHale-directed production. Yet, one is forced to surmise whether it works because of Bricusse’s score — a blend of vaudeville-style patter songs, sentimental ballads and chorus/ensemble pieces that attempt to give Victorian London street life a musical theatre flourish — or in spite of them.
None of the songs are particularly distinctive, but their execution by the 14-person cast is brilliant, their vocals augmented by music director Lex Leigh’s piano accompaniment and Nico Montelibano’s excellent choreography.
Still, any adaptation of this timeless tale rests on the portrayal of the archetypical Scrooge. And in Bruce Goodrich, this production has a ringer. He is tall and angular, so he looks the part, but he is also sarcastic and funny, teasing and taunting; we all know where Scrooge’s journey ultimately lands him, and liking a character who is so thoroughly unlikable at the play’s beginning is critical. Goodrich’s performance makes that effortless — even if another of Bricusse’s additions, Scrooge sipping from an enormous cup filled with the literal milk of human kindness offered by the Ghost of Christmas Present (an ebullient Winston Peacock) can easily be read as Scrooge’s ultimate conversion stemming less from a spiritual spring than a pharmaceutical one.
Given the unquestionable talent of the ensemble, singling out any one individual does seem unfair to the collective. Be that as it may, Kaley Stallings’s Ghost of Christmas Past and Matt Takahashi’s Bob Cratchit stand out.
This is a production in which every part works, from Gwen Sloan’s pitch-perfect costume design to Nick Santiago’s evocative projection design. And though it may lack the spookiness, solemnity and admonition of Dickens’ seasonal chestnut, it’s entertaining and infectious — notwithstanding that it’s not the truest adaptation of a story with far more urgent undertones.
Chance Theater, 5522 E. La Palma Ave., Anaheim. Wed.-Thurs., 7:30 pm, Fri., 8 pm, Sat., 3 pm & 8 pm, Sun., 3 pm; thru Dec. 21. www.chancetheater.com Running time: two hours and 15 minutes with an intermission.
