Is there a more jubilant conclusion to any version of Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol?” Oh my! Thank you very much, indeed!
Albert Finney’s make-up as “Scrooge” (1970) is a bit of a distraction (he was only 33 at the time, in this, his first big-screen “character role”) and Leslie Bricusse’s hit-and-miss score makes “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang” seem like Noel Coward, but the choreography and energetic commitment to the enterprise make it a satisfying entry in the unlikely craze for Dickens musicals, unleashed by Lionel Bart’s “Oliver!”
This characterization of the Humbug-spouting miser isn’t as straightforward as some. Finney and director Ronald Neame (“The Horse’s Mouth,” “The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie,” “The Poseidon Adventure”) offer us premature glimpses of Scrooge’s nascent goodness and almost childlike humor, stirred by metaphoric spiritual visitations and the “milk of human kindness,” but willfully tamped down by obstinate backslidings. Until, of course, his redemption inspires the usual eruption of joy.
I have to confess, I was a little cranky when I sat down to watch it late last night, but the film succeeded in instilling a little holiday spirit and made me miss what movies used to be able to accomplish.
The discussion will be generous when Roy and I dive headlong into this Christmas pudding, on a special holiday edition of Roy’s Tie-Dye Sci-Fi Corner. All the punch will be in the comments section, when we livestream on Facebook, YouTube, etc., at a special time, THIS THURSDAY EVENING AT 7:00 EST!
If you’ve ever had a house guest that just wouldn’t leave, I’m sure you can sympathize with poor Charles Dickens. Although perhaps you wouldn’t be as snide about it to your friends.
So what happened when Hans Christian Andersen, author of the most depressing Christmas story ever, “The Fir Tree,” met the author of “A Christmas Carol?”
For all he understood about the human heart, Andersen, bless his sensitive soul, seemed totally oblivious to social cues. At the very least, as a Dickens superfan, he had no concept of personal space. Perhaps in Denmark, in those days, they were unfamiliar with the maxim: always leave them wanting more.
You can learn more about it – but be ready to wince – here:
J.K. Simmons earned an Oscar for his portrayal of ruthless bandmaster Terence Fletcher in Damien Chazelle’s breakout film. It’s no secret that Chazelle modeled Simmons’ sociopath on his real-life band instructor at Princeton High School.
Classical music has had more than its share of Terence Fletchers, but few burned as ferociously as Fritz Reiner. From a musician’s standpoint, Reiner was one of the most dreaded conductors, in an era when tyrants of the podium still very much roamed the earth. With a glower that could make Bela Lugosi quake – and sporting quite the similar hairline – Reiner was forged in Hungary at the twilight of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Hungary at the time had quite the reputation for churning out great conductors. George Szell, Eugene Ormandy, Antal Doráti, Ferenc Fricsay, Sir Georg Solti, and István Kertész all achieved considerable international success.
Among Reiner’s own teachers was Béla Bartók, with whom he studied piano. Reiner would later repay the favor with what many consider to be the benchmark recording of Bartók’s “Concerto for Orchestra.” He also worked closely with Richard Strauss in Dresden, and his recordings of Strauss’ works are equally revered. All in all, the Chicago Symphony under Fritz Reiner was a surefire choice to give the ol’ hi-fi a good workout in the early days of stereo.
In 1928, Reiner became a naturalized American citizen. He began to teach conducting at the Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia, where among his pupils was Leonard Bernstein. His first American post was as principal conductor of the Cincinnati Symphony. He took over the Pittsburgh Symphony for a decade, beginning in 1938. Then he spent several years at the Met. But it was as music director of the Chicago Symphony that he attained legendary status.
For a master interpreter of some of the largest and most challenging works in the repertoire, his baton technique was notable for its precision and economy. Much of what he achieved, unfortunately, was through the brutality he exuded in rehearsals. Reiner emerged from an Old World steeped in aristocratic privilege. At the top of their profession, conductors then were regarded as gods-on-earth. When drive and ego were bolstered by absolute power, working conditions could become downright perilous. Before strong musicians’ unions, conductors exercised the authority to fire anyone on a whim. So when musicians played for Reiner, they played as if their lives depended on it – or at the very least their livelihoods.
Did it make for better musicmaking? You can’t argue with the excellence of Reiner’s Chicago Symphony.
Hanukkah begins at sunset. This Sunday night on “The Lost Chord,” kick off the Festival of Lights with a little musical sustenance.
We’ll hear David Ludwig’s “Hanukkah Cantata.” Ludwig, who studied with Richard Danielpour, Jennifer Higdon, and Ned Rorem at the Curtis Institute of Music and John Corigliano at Juilliard, is also the nephew of pianist Peter Serkin, the grandson of Rudolf Serkin, and the great-grandson of Adolf Busch. The text of his cantata, compiled by Cantor Dan Sklar, is sung in English and Hebrew. The work falls into eight movements, wholly befitting for this eight-day celebration.
We’ll follow that with Ludwig Altman’s “Theme and Variations on ‘Ma’oz Tzur,’” the Hanukkah melody also known as “Rock of Ages.” Altman was born in what was once Breslau, Germany (now Wroclaw, Poland). He studied at the University of Breslau, and then at Berlin’s State Academy for Sacred Music. With the rise of the Nazis, he was restricted to employment in Jewish organizations.
In 1936, he emigrated to the United States, settling in San Francisco, where he became organist and choral director at Congregation Emanu-El. For over three decades, he was also organist of the San Francisco Symphony. Altman’s variations on a Hanukkah theme will be performed with another composer of note, Barbara Harbach, at the console.
Then we’ll round out the hour with “A Klezmer Nutcracker” – with apologies to Peter Ilych Tchaikovsky – in a lively recording made by the Boston-based ensemble Shirim. Kazatsky ‘til you dropsky!
We’ll do our best to lay a sound foundation for eight days of fried food, sugar, and cheese. Join me for “Latke Tonic,” music of substance for Hanukkah. We’ve got oil to burn, this Sunday night at 10:00 EST, on WWFM – The Classical Network and wwfm.org.
David Serkin Ludwig, Composer
Milken Archive of Jewish Music
Shirim Klezmer Orchestra
This week on “Picture Perfect,” we’ll have a Dickens of a time with a garland of music from movies inspired by his writings. Tune in for selections from “Nicholas Nickleby” (1947) by Lord Berners, “Oliver Twist” (1948) by Sir Arnold Bax, “David Copperfield” (1969) by Sir Malcolm Arnold, and “A Christmas Carol” (1951) by Richard Addinsell.
Blame it on an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. There will be more of gravy than of grave about it. Take your pick of Dickens on “Picture Perfect,” music for the movies, this Saturday evening at 6:00 EST, on WWFM – The Classical Network and wwfm.org.
