Has there ever been a more frequently adapted story than Charles Dickens' novella A Christmas Carol? From Reginald Owen and Alastair Sim down to George C. Scott, Albert Finney, Patrick Stewart and Bill Murray, it seems every few years, someone else gets their chance to portray that uber-miser Ebenezer Scrooge. Even Mr. Magoo and Donald Duck's famous rich uncle have got in on the act.
The reasons behind the story's frequent productions are no mystery: at its core, A Christmas Carol is a classic tale of the transformative power of the human spirit tailor-made for holiday audiences. Hence its eternal popularity... on film, TV and stage (where, here in town, it occupies the Goodman Theatre's main stage every December). But beneath this cheery holiday chestnut, there's a darker story, with ample opportunity for reinterpretation and reinvention.
And that's where Manual Cinema's current production comes in. Now running at the Fine Arts Building's Studebaker Theater, this show brings a fresh—and often troubling—perspective to the familiar story.
First developed in the midst of the pandemic as an online production, the show was devised by several artists in the Chicago-based collective: Drew Dir, Sarah Furnace, Ben Kauffman, Julia Miller, and Kyle Vegler. Based on the vision of playwright Nate Marshall, and still under the direction of the initial "devisors," the show uses the full arsenal of Manual Cinema's theatrical approach: an innovative blend of puppetry, film techniques and live music and actors. The result is on often chilling but—yes—ultimately heartwarming take on Dickens' old tale that nevertheless strips away the layers of saccharine holiday cheer that have obscured the story's radical message over time.
The story centers on LaKecia Harris' "bah-humbuggie" Aunt Trudy, a grieving widow of her common-law husband Joe, packing up her house before an impending down-sizing while taking stock of her life and performing—for one last time, she swears, and this time via pandemic-era Zoom—Joe's elaborate Christmas Carol puppet show. Trudy's not happy with the show, or with her past relationship with Joe and his family, or with herself, really—and she wants to make sure that everyone knows it.
Well, you can guess the story: a winter storm, a power failure, and the visits of three ghosts in the wee hours do more than a little to readjust Trudy's thoughts and feelings. All this Dickensian magic is summoned via the stagecraft of ingenious puppetry and shadowplay, until near the very end, when Harris is joined on stage by Jeffrey Paschal as a surprised restaurant deliveryman, who gamely steps in to help Trudy deliver the story's final, joyful message.
But before we get there, Manual Cinema takes us through a dark re-examination of Dickens' Yuletide cautionary tale: the chains we forge in this life will burden us in the next. The power of that message is immensely helped by the talents of three onstage musicians performing an original score: Nora Barton, Lucy Little, and Alicia Walter add an additional layer to the show's depth.
A further striking moment occurs when the Spirit of Christmas Future makes its menacing appearance amidst the audience, a chilling sight more evocative of J.K. Rowling's dementors than a cozy Victorian Christmas. The specter’s looming presence, with its flowing dark robes and eerie silence, casts a shiver through the theater, warning everyone of the reckoning that awaits.
This powerful theatrical moment is starkly juxtaposed with the real-world scene just outside the theater doors, where dozens of homeless people huddle together under the eaves of the nearby Auditorium Theatre, seeking refuge from the cold wind off Lake Michigan—and, frankly, an even colder political wind blowing through this country.
As we sit comfortably inside, absorbing Dickens' timeless tale of redemption and social conscience, the reality of those less fortunate is unavoidable. Manual Cinema’s reimagined production of A Christmas Carol confronts this head-on, and urges us to consider the true essence of Dickens’ message: the moral obligation to care for others and break the chains of indifference toward those who need our help.
Manual Cinema's A Christmas Carol runs through January 5 at the Studebaker Theater in the Fine Arts Building (410 S. Michigan). Tickets are available at tickets.fineartsbuilding.com. Each performance lasts approximately 75 minutes, without intermission.
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