With the systematic gutting of Twitter by billionaire Elon Musk, the 2022 holiday season is surging with Scrooge-like spirit in a way that might make even residents of Dickensian England do a double take. Add to that the ever-widening gap between extreme poverty and extreme wealth — seen in Atlanta through rising rental prices stacked upon a $7.25/hour minimum wage — and, well, this tale of generosity, community and the omnipresent opportunity for transformation and second chances feels as relevant as ever.
Though it has been seen and done in thousands of ways across more than 175 years and with too many adaptations to count (for the record, the Muppets did the best film version), there are still — somehow — treasures to be mined from the 1843 novel’s depths. The Alliance Theatre’s production, on stage through December 24, has been a city tradition for more than three decades, yet the creative team continues to find new and fresh ways to bring it to life.
It helps that last year, the Alliance’s show was overhauled entirely with a re-adaptation by David H. Bell, who plumbed the source material for new angles. What’s striking in watching the new interpretation is how many of the so-called peripheral plot lines — and the characters supporting the supporting characters — have their own fully realized arcs and detailed backstories. It’s as if Bell knew that the audience, with so many repeated viewings, would naturally gravitate toward watching what’s happening on the sidelines and how our protagonists impact those sideline stories.
Take, for instance, the rich side plot of a family peddling food on the streets after they have fallen behind on their payments to Scrooge. Despite pleas for mercy, Scrooge has the father carted away to jail until his family can settle the debt — a cruel and unsettling act that fortunately gets rectified by the end of the play (though arguably the trauma is still there). Throughout the play, details emerge about how the family is coping. At one point, we learn that the jails are full, so the father has been moved to a “prison barge” offshore to deal with the overflow. Gosh, if that isn’t a story with a connection to our current prison crisis, what is?
Andrew Benator reprises his rendition of Ebenezer Scrooge and fills it with practiced cynicism as he utters some of the immortal character’s most ruefully funny (and reprehensible) lines. “I could see my breath in the cold,” Bob Cratchit (the likable and understated Christopher Hampton) says of the chill in their unheated office. “Then breathe less,” Scrooge retorts.
As the scenes play on, we can watch his stance on life and humanity soften. Scrooge reverts to childlike wonder in the flashback scenes to his school days and conveys the immense sorrow of realizing in real time the tragedy of his past mistakes, which he cannot change nor take back but only helplessly relive. In too many Christmas Carol stagings, the transformation from callous, miserly misanthrope to generous, open-hearted benefactor is immediate and abrupt — which can be fun and moving in its way — but Benator’s performance is gradual, pulled off through micro expressions and growing pathos as he stands in the wings of his own history. It helps make the final transformation seem earned.
Another standout performance of this production is Thomas Neal Antwon Ghant as the compulsive and generous Fezziwig. He devours each scene with an irrepressible zest for life and employs some of the play’s funniest moments, messing around with a newfangled camera to capture the Christmas merriment. It’s a different Fezziwig than we’re used to — not merely jolly but also dynamic and touching, especially as things take a disastrous turn for his family.
This makes one long for the spinoff about just Fezziwig and his wife. What happens after they exit the narrative, their meager possessions stuffed into two humble boxes, having lost their fortune and their honorary son in one fell swoop? Can you imagine if this got the Better Call Saul treatment?
The MVP of the show, though, is probably the stunning scenic design by Todd Rosenthal, which unfurls like one magic trick after another: The big, ominous fireplace with blue-lit smoke that produces a raggedy visage of the forever-tormented spirit of Jacob Marley. The doorknob that becomes an imploring, spectral hand, glowing and sinister. The rotating set with the dexterity to plausibly show off different times, locations and states of mind. And that giant ominous puppet of the bleak ghost of Christmas Future — wow.
A couple of qualms: First, right before the show starts, there is a prominent shout-out to all the Alliance’s corporate sponsors, including the notoriously anti-LGBTQ+ Chick-fil-A, which is frankly pretty jarring just before settling into a tale that concentrates on how ignorance is the source of our misery.
Second, maybe it’s time to dispense with the attempt at British accents, given the extreme variation in vocal inflection that was taking place across the stage. The actors are all doing stellar work embodying their characters without that distracting element.
And third, this is a London that feels very sterile, very Disney-fied. Still in mourning for the late Angela Lansbury, I found myself longing for the scuzzy streets of Sweeney Todd. As it stands, the streets all sparkle, the snow is lovely and fluffy, and even the lamplighters scampering on the rooftops have a twinkle in their eyes. Like, really, the Cratchit family is described as raggedy but full of love, but they look like the Von Trapp family singers.
Yes, this all makes everything charming and whimsical, which is what I know people came for, but given the exciting new dimensions of the current adaptation, couldn’t we see more of the mess contained within the prose reflected on the stage itself?
Nonetheless, this beloved show, as directed by Leora Morris, still feels like a genuine and heartfelt effort after all this time. And it packs enough vitality and joy from the strong ensemble cast to push even the most seasoned, humbuggiest of theater-goers like yours truly, who have seen this dang show (conservatively) a bajillion times, into a state of warmth, optimism and appreciation for those stories that will prevail through even the darkest of winters.
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Alexis Hauk is a member of the American Theatre Critics Association. She has written and edited for numerous newspapers, alt-weeklies, trade publications and national magazines including Time, The Atlantic, Mental Floss, Uproxx and Washingtonian. An Atlanta native, Alexis has also lived in Boston, Washington D.C., New York City and Los Angeles. By day, she works in health communications. By night, she enjoys covering the arts and being Batman.
