Towards the middle of December, just before my annual Christmas Show at Old Town Coffee & Chocolates in Eureka, CA (which, I'm delighted to say, was an unqualified success again this year), I noticed the following message left on the Facebook Page for the Horror Host Underground, the loose affiliation of Horror Hosts across the country (and outside as well.) It was from The Mod Ghoul, a relatively new host (or one I'd been previously unaware of). He posed a question that was dear to my ectoplasmic heart: 


MOD GHOUL: The song The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year mentions "scary ghost stories". Plural. I only know of one Xmas ghost story and it isn't scary at all. Opinions?


I took a few moments to respond:


Hmmm. Well, I believe I'm qualified to speak on this subject...

In actuality, Mr. Mod, Christmas has always been the traditional time for telling ghostly tales. It's only been relatively recently, and mainly in America , that the ghost story has been transplanted to Halloween; in Europe the tradition is still very much alive and well.

Several authors wrote collections of ghost stories to be read specifically at Christmas time, particularly Mr. Dickens and M. R. James. Probably Mr. Dickens most famous Christmas ghost story after "A Christmas Carol" is his short story "The Story of the Goblins who Stole a Sexton."

Bear in mind that the ghost stories needn't be set at Christmastime; any good ghost story will fit the bill. However, some of my favorite actual Christmas ghost stories include Donald Westlake's "Nackles," about the anti-Santa, Ramsey Campbell's "Christmas Eve," and of course severa l of Rod Serling's efforts take place at Christmas. Even Lovecraft penned a Christmas tale, "The Festival," which is as dark as anything that slithered out from underneath and evergreen...

I suppose it also depends on how you define 'scary'. I think the George C. Scott version of "A Christmas Carol" works so well because the writer and director treat it as a ghost story first and foremost, and I find it extremely dark and macabre.


Well, Mr. Ghoul appreciated my enlightening him, and agreed about the George C. Scott film. And several of the HorrorHosts I've performed with (including the legendary A. Ghastlee Ghoul...no relation, I believe, to Mod) liked my comment. I'm always eager to discuss the tradition of Christmas ghost stories; it is near and dear to me, and I enjoy helping it gain a stronger foothold in society.

Then, just a few days before Christmas, I read a short essay on The Huffington Post about a new, illustrated edition of "A Christmas Carol" that will be making its way into bookstores, if it hasn't already. Now, "A Christmas Carol" is one of my favorite books; beautifully written, heartfelt, and honest in its portrayal of a man forced by circumstances to reexamine his existence and beliefs. Being a Christmas story and a ghost story, perhaps the most famous of all ghost stories, I am doubly enthused with any forthcoming new edition.

(I should warn you now that I am not pleased with and do not endorse it whatsoever, as I'll soon make clear, along with my reasons.)

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Indulge me as I make the first of many digressions:

I've gone on at length in these essays on the unnecessary remakes of perfectly good films. I am firmly at odds with those who look forward to them, and decry their waste of money and time that would be better spent.

One who has disagreed with me in the past is legendary HorrorHost (and webmaster of my online crypt) Count Gore De Vol. He's written that he finds remakes perfectly acceptable; each generation must discover their own icons and set their own standards for what is a classic film, and he doesn't mind the reinterpretations released for new generations to embrace. (I should note in fairness that this was his opinion some years ago; I haven't spoken to him recently on the subject and don't know what he makes of the current crop of releases.)

I disagree strongly with him on that argument; I'll explain why shortly. But for now, let me say that Count Gore does have a good point. No one becomes upset when another theatrical company performs their version of HAMLET or ROMEO & JULIET. And yes, I have no problem with new adaptations of written material; else we'd have had no Hammer films based on the classic novels "Frankenstein" and "Dracula" after Misters Karloff and Lugosi had interpreted them.

Please understand, though, that plays are naturally fluid, being performed live, and I don't think anyone would begrudge another whack at the Dark Prince of Denmark even after Lord Olivier, Mr. Gibson and Mr. Branaugh did exemplary work. And books are always welcome to be translated into dramatic works to reflect the time; though I quibble with the final results to a greater or lesser degree, I have no problem with Misters Langella, Kinski, Palance, Jordan or Oldman stepping into the not inconsiderably shoes of Misters Lugosi and Lee to portray the legendary Count.

 (There's really nothing wrong with a new version of MOBY DICK or GONE WITH THE WIND, let alone PSYCHO or STRAW DOGS or THE BIRDS or any other story previously adapted into film. But rather than go back to the original works to create something new, most remakes are content to be carbon copies - in the case of Gus Van Sant's PSYCHO, literally as well as figuratively - simply repeating what was done before, and I have a huge difficulty with that.)

In this vein, I've no trouble with anyone adapting Dickens' classic tale, and have, again to a greater or lesser degree, enjoyed many, from Reginald Owen and Alistair Sims to Albert Finney in the musical SCROOGE to Mr. Magoo and the various animated versions (my favorite being the Chuck Jones produced short that used the original first edition illustrations as the model for the animation) to modern interpretations such as Bill Murray's SCROOGED. I enjoyed Henry Winkler in the version set in America , and even find  a place in my heart for the myriad television shows that use the story as a basis for their Christmas episodes, from THE ODD COUPLE to WKRP IN CINCINATTI. I have no trouble at all, provided the creators have a clear vision and reason for adapting the tale, and treat it with respect.

Let me repeat that last: I have no trouble at all, provided the creators have a clear vision and reason for adapting the tale, and treat it with respect.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

In perusing the Huffington Post about this new edition, I was first struck by what seems to be a startling discovery that the author believed unique with himself. To quote:


"We've come to think of "A Christmas Carol" as a heartwarming story, but that's because of the image we want to take away from it. You know, the final image in the movie and theater versions. A happy ending --- Scrooge reunited with his family, Tiny Tim saved, "God bless us, every one." But "A Christmas Carol" is, right until the ending, more like a horror movie. Consider everything that happens before Scrooge's redemption. He turns away requests for charity. He complains about his clerk's one-day-a-year-off-with-pay. He wishes the poor dead. He hates everyone who crosses his path. And then he pays for his miserliness and misanthropy. Ghosts appear. They take him on a tour of his miserable life: his lonely childhood, lost opportunities for friendship and love, the terrible fate that awaits Tiny Tim, the eternal damnation in store for him.

These are terrifying images. I knew that parents would be reading this story to their kids --- and older kids would be reading it by themselves --- --- but as I set out to create the illustrations for Jesse Kornbluth's e-book of “A Christmas Carol,” there was no way around it.

I had to go for scary."

Lord help us all...

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Forgive me; another digression…

I mentioned this before, and I've shared this thought with many of my human friends. Those who admire and follow the genre of Horror and Dark Fantasy are often thought to be wallowing in darkness. I believe the opposite is true - we celebrate the light by acknowledging the shadows. We recognize both go hand in hand, and there cannot be one without the other. I believe wholeheartedly in the concept of catharsis , facing the darkness and leeching some of its power away, mollifying the mortal fears and dreads of daily existence with parable and allegory.

You'll find this in works as diverse as "Great Expectations" (with Miss Haversham's wretched existence alone nursing vengeance for a broken heart and life), "'Salem's Lot" (watching the Norman Rockwell All-American town reveal it's dark underbelly of secrets, shame and literal vampirism feasting on its soul) and DAWN OF THE DEAD (society literally turned on its ear and humanity prisoners of the capitalistic monoliths they haunted in other times).

We don't embrace the dark, as so many critics of the field believe. We face it head on, unflinchingly, and observe the lessons it teaches. And fear is a great teacher; many life lessons of trial and error are learned with the additional motivation of terror behind the exercise. My human companion Bob, a writer, once coined the phrase: "Fear is the mainspring on the watch of life; it keeps the hands turning and the clock ticking." I always liked that, and I believe it's true. Another way to phrase it is from authors Craig Spector and John Skipp: "Fear is the engine that drives the car of most literature and film."

Think on it. IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE's heartwarming moments and life-affirming conclusion would not be half so effective if we hadn't watched George Bailey's frantic nightmare of non-existence not less than twenty minutes before. The expression on James Stewart's face as he flees his mother's house, staring into the camera in tight close-up, is the stuff of nightmares.

Fairy tales are often criticized (by those who really don't know what they're talking about) as being "dark" and "too frightening" for children, but the children themselves understand the nature of things: life is scary, especially when your worldview is only two to three feet off the ground, surrounded by a world of loud giants, painfully bright colors and ominous sounds. Fairy tales help them cope with their day-to-day dramas, just as Horror tales helps adults face their worst fears of death, disease and despair.

So when some novice suddenly announces their wonderful "new" discovery - "Hey! 'A Christmas Carol' is really a Horror story! It's frightening! The images are scary, not all cheery and syrupy!" - well, I have to shake my head and wonder why they hadn't been paying attention before, and why they were telling us what aficionados of the Dark Fantastic knew for some time. I look forward to the next pronouncement that "ghosts are often metaphors," "Ray Bradbury's stories are allegories for childhood fears and wonders," and "Hey! That lion character in the Narnia books is actually Jesus!"

(Sorry, that was quite snide of me...)

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Back to this new edition and the final lap before I draw my narrative strands together...

Needless to say, I wasn't becoming terribly enthused with this, and my dismay soon turned to disbelief and extreme annoyance when I read the following paragraphs:

"How does one convey the feeling of the past in the language of the present? This was the challenge Jesse Kornbluth and Paige Peterson took on when revamping the Christmas classic ‘A Christmas Carol' to bring children suspense, heartbreak and joy instead of... well, boredom..."

Boredom!?! I continued reading...

"To deliver Dickens' story to a modern day audience, Kornbluth did a little bit of trimming, shedding the story's excess weight and brushing off its outdated dust. The result delivers the same Christmas magic as the classic original, but in a manner today's youth can sit through..."

Enough.

To be completely fair, these were not the words of the author of this revision; they were those of the nameless (for good reason) journalist promoting the book. Nevertheless, I believe that in light of some of the author's comments justifying his work, he would agree with the assessment. (And quite probably the illustrator too.)

By this time I was enraged, and dashed off a few thoughts of my own to the author, illustrator and journalist, as follows:


I see no one had the nerve to put their name on this little essay; probably because they knew that they were simply shilling for this edition instead of offering a critical assessment.

"..revamping the Christmas classic 'A Christmas Carol' to bring children suspense, heartbreak and joy instead of... well, boredom." Really? Can you site which parts bored you, chapter and verse? 'A Christmas Carol' is an extremely short book; even the slowest reader should be able to finish it in one sitting of no more than, say, three hours. If your attention span is that limited, you should probably stay with Huffington Post articles.

"To deliver Dickens' story to a modern day audience, Kornbluth did a little bit of trimming, shedding the story's excess weight and brushing off its outdated dust. The result delivers the same Christmas magic as the classic original, but in a manner today's youth can sit through." Again, see above for your attention span. Outdated dust? Dickens describes a world where the poor and homeless flock the streets and receive scorn from the wealthy, who would rather they be put in prison or die to "decrease the surplus population." That sounds fairly contemporary to me. Timeless, in fact.

In short, another article from the hipper-than-thou who pander to the latest trendy product. No thank you. Dickens' classic and his talents have survived almost 100 years without an update; I'll take that over some new "improvement." However, I feel that the talents of this essayist may have found their niche on the Internet; come 100 years they won't even be bothered with "whatever happened to..."


( All right, forgive me. I was angry. It certainly wasn't polite to disparage the journalist in that manner, even though I still feel my judgment accurate.)

I never did send this rebuttal; for one, after some thought I did regret my rudeness. For another, I was unable to post the response because I was not a subscriber to the Huffington Post. (And trust me, they are in no danger of that happening any time soon, for which I'm certain they are cheering even as we speak...) I did decide to comment further here in my crypt, and am seriously considering sending this to both the author and illustrator to at least impart some of the reasons for my annoyance. Whether they take them to heart or not is beyond me, but I choose not to say something behind someone's back I'm not prepared to say to their face.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Now...you ask, quite rationally, "Carpathian, why did something like this upset you when there are so many other things in the world to be enraged by?" An honest question, certainly. I can only answer that it always seems to be the minor irritants that affect us the most; like mild athlete's foot, a rash or a cough that simply won't go away.

First, there have been several edited editions of the book, from Gold Key Classics to Classics Illustrated Comics that have already simplified the story enough for the very young. (I don't truly approve of these either; they've bowdlerized stories and authors from Jules Verne to H G Wells, from Sherlock Holmes to the Count of Monte Cristo. I'd much rather youngsters struggle through the actual books if they choose to tackle them, and at least the Classic Illustrated Comics use the genuine language and texts...)

(And it seems annoyingly obvious to point this out, but “A Christmas Carol” is not a children's book, although I'm pleased if they enjoy it. It's for adults; a tale of compassion and redemption and facing some harsh facts of life and the world at large, pushing through the bleak catharsis to discover the light within. As I state above in my rebuttal, in many ways it's a very contemporary novel with its comments on the poor, the homeless that walk the uncaring streets of the city, and the wealthy and affluent's reactions to them. More's the pity…)

You can find constant examples on the Internet of adults complaining about childhood behavior: how they act in stores and restaurants, whether they're too loud or rambunctious, or simply undisciplined. Many find this behavior intolerable (I don't necessarily, but that's a discussion for another time) and they lament putting these children in 'grownup' situations before the children are ready to behave like grownups.

What I find odd is that we demand children be disciplined in every other aspect of life except their introduction to and relationship with the arts. And this is what it comes down to: how do we introduce youngsters to the fine arts? Do we ask them to take them on their own terms, or try and dumb them down for mass consumption?

Too often adults underestimate a child's attention span and reaction to situations. But spend any length of time with a child and you find them incredibly interested in the world around them, particular the artistic. Watch a group of children walking through a museum, and they stare intently at the art, absorbing it even if they don't completely understand. Bring youngsters to a concert, and they may fidget (adults too have difficulty sitting still for an extended amount of time, especially if the seats are uncomfortable) but they'll want to stay to the very end. I've witnessed it personally, when I've given a performance that ran late into the night. I've seen young fans sitting, bowed head and droopy-eyed at tables and in their parents' laps, fighting sleep. But when the parents ask if they want to leave, they shake their heads in an adamant no!

I suppose we could adapt all difficult books or plays into modern language to make them more accessible to simple minds. We could edit Shakespeare and Dickens and Bronte and Dumas and Felding to attract a larger audience. We could also repaint the Mona Lisa and make it a hologram, put contemporary fashions on the Sistine Chapel, or have Lady Gaga rewrite "The Magic Flute."

(OK, I'm being sarcastic and rude again...and I do like Lady Gaga...)

But at some point someone has to say, "enough." At some point someone has to stand up and defend the originals for the special language and images they proffer, and the riches that are derived because of this. Dickens works so well because of the language, as does Shakespeare and Twain and any other author. And frankly, sometimes you have to train yourself to appreciate something in a different idiom; too many meals of McRibs can convince you that this is the ultimate treat, and you lose your feeling for Porter Street (one of the finest barbecue places on the Lost Coast , and the world!) Tastes can be bastardized by constant exposure to dreck; not unlike waterboarding.

This is my problem with remaking films and television shows that, for whatever faults they may possess with age and improved technology, were pretty damned good in the first place. Lon Chaney's anguish in the face of lycanthropy's curse was ably presented in the original THE WOLF MAN, even without Rick Baker's wonderful makeup effects. The shadowy threat of transformation was captured exquisitely in Val Lewton's CAT PEOPLE even without the Technicolor bloodshed and trained panthers of Paul Schrader's monstrosity. Robert Wise didn't need CGI effects to make THE HAUNTING a harrowing experience, and those effects certainly didn't help the remake.

Even the remakes I've enjoyed, that have shown respect to the original material, that were made with love and care - Peter Jackson's KING KONG, Phillip Kaufman's INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS, William Friedkin's SORCERER - didn't really need to be redone. And certainly we didn't need the remakes of NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET, HALLOWEEN, FRIDAY THE THIRTEENTH, THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE, THE HILLS HAVE EYES, STRAW DOGS, and on and on... 

And here is the crux of my argument with Count Gore's view: if they cannot appreciate the originals, under their own artistic merits and standards, then it's their loss. Why redo something just to say it's the product of the new generation? They don't like the originals? Too bad. Create something more memorable yourself. And stay out of the way of those rest of us who enjoy them.

I had a young companion who refused to watch black & white films; she thought she simply wouldn't like them. And though I tried to persuade her that there were some wonderful movies that she was missing, she turned a deaf ear. No, she only liked color films. I think it would be a huge disservice to the young lady to say, "All right, we'll just remake the movies in color so you can enjoy them." Shouldn't there at least be an effort made to persuade her to try the originals, even if she has to wait a few years to appreciate them?

Doesn't such pandering cheapen the experience? How many people saw the remake of THE HAUNTING or PSYCHO and wondered what all the shouting was about? Do the youngsters who went to see the remake of TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE truly understand why the first knocked the breath out of people when it was released? If not, don't we at least owe it to them as Art to explain?

Count Gore once said that the fans who like the remakes don't care about why the originals were classics; they don't work for them. My argument is, why should we tailor Art to people just so they 'get it?' If they don't like the originals, isn't it better to shrug and say "Oh well; pearls before swine" than try and capture an audience with less-than-discriminating taste?

I understand completely that people are moved by different things, which is why I enjoyed THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT and PARANORMAL ACTIVITY and disliked intensely FROM DUSK 'TIL DAWN and the remake of DAWN OF THE DEAD. Others disagree, and good for them. But I'm able to recognize what it is that makes a classic film (or book, or play, or painting, or concerto) even if I'm unable to appreciate the work itself.

Failing to completely comprehend or appreciate a work of Art at first glance is no reason to modify or abandon it, any more than carpenters should stop working on houses when the work becomes difficult or authors should stop writing when the book reaches 500 pages. Sometimes the difficulty itself provides the final rewards for the effort, just as the special language is the reward of "Othello" or "Ulysses" or “A Christmas Carol.” Taking these works and ‘adjusting' them to the perceived sensibilities of the audience does a disservice to both the Art and the audience that's meant to appreciate it.

But perhaps I worry needlessly. At the end of the article announcing this edition, there is a long comment section, and almost unanimously everyone who commented was appalled by the idea of a simplified edition. The wanted to read the unexpurgated book, with its ‘outdated dust' intact, and didn't accept the defense put forth by the author.

And for that, I say, “God bless you, everyone!”