Category: show tune

Spirited is the Netflix low concept (‘A Christmas Carol’ sequel for the ghosts!) that shoots the moon for musical numbers. Each pulls out all the stops despite how short they are, so that you’re exhausted only part-way through. “That Christmas Mornin’ Feeling” stomps. “Bringing Back Christmas” razzle dazzles. “Unredeemable” overreaches. Near the finale the songs calm down, yet “Do a Little Good” is a folk showstopper that evolves into gospel rafter raising. I do admit “Good Afternoon” is one of the few oh-so-original concepts that winds me up. Yeah, this C- movie was one of those muffed opportunities that drew in the mob, only to leave us unfulfilled. Let’s not dwell….

It’s a Wonderful Life – The Musical (didn’t see that coming, did you?) features some nice age-appropriate swing (“Would You Like to Dance With Me?“), though the occasional misstep (the Bossa nova romance “If You Want the Moon“) keeps this mediocre. The title song is a bit too wink-wink, rather than character or plot building. “Bless You, George Bailey” also unnerves as persistent opera. The tango-adjacent temptation from Old Man Potter “Tell Me What You Want,” however, is a nice callback and almost a showstopper.

But, then there’s the Janis Dunson Wilson approach. It starts with the children missing their wayward father, who’s praying for hope (“Is There Anybody Up There?”). Pretty terrifying. The angel, a female Clarence, raps–then leads us in a spiritual (with scat). The story’s in spotty flashback (Zoom) from the ending. But “Do You Want the Moon?” is a better character piece here. Potter’s threatening “Pity” comes off just Snidley Whiplash enough. And Clarence’s “Guardian Angel Second Class” oddly works as calypso. “Anyone Will Do” is the brilliant burlesque number in the Potterville bar. It’s all better storytelling, if only amateurish music.

Perhaps never staged, Searching for the Spirit of Christmas is a youthful journey to find parents (the Grinch might be one) with the help of magic (“Once a Little Snowflake“), but not a witch’s (“The Witch’s Spell“). I think. Can’t find much about this. The plot seems encapsulated in the setting out song: “Christmas Spirit, I’ll Find You.” It’s adorable. Then gender fluidity is addressed in the talky “The Pronoun Song.” The overall tenor of the show seems to resist the Holidays (“You Won’t find Me“), but it’s really about battling close-mindedness (“Perspective“). The finale is the woke/Xian thing to do: “Keep a Little Christmas Spirit.” Broaden, bro.

Not every ‘A Christmas Carol’ musical will grace us on the blog, but we can’t help but point out the odd AND big-budgeted.

Sprightly folk decorates GreenMatthews’s A Christmas Carol: A Folk Opera. This feels like a reading of the novelette set to popular folk dance reels. Different.

Q Brothers Christmas Carol is the present day mockup rap of the old Scroogery. And, boy, is Scrooge crotchety. Aggro! as in “Stave 1” (his sack of money and his home security system are treated as characters). Marley is, wait for it, Rastafarian. I get it! In “Stave 2” the past revisits OTHER Dickens characters Pip and Martin Chuzzlewit as the Scrooge posse. And Fezzywig is Fezzy’s Wigs Shoppe. Funny stuff. In “Stave 3” the Cratchits have rabies, tinnitus, and are on the transplant list (hacking solo). “Stave 4” is the Future, but it’s oddly electronic. Then it gets sympathetically sentimental. I bought it: the wit, the energy, the meaning.

2015’s A Christmas Carol: The New Musical has a childish, carnival feeling. Perhaps that makes it more comic. “Mister Scrooge” is an early song about the charitable reps begging off the miser. Awkward-funny. The Marley bit “Look at These Chains” is melodramatically spooky. The songs get old fashioned with a wide range that smacks of opera. The gravitas of the text doesn’t support it, so my eyes kept rolling. “Forever,” for example, is the Present musing what time is really all about. What on earth? “We Build Ourselves Up” is the fun plunderers’ bit. The whole thing winds up as a religious experience with soaring soundtrack. You’ve been preached at.

Iconoclasm washes better. A Don’t Hug Me Christmas Carol is a Midwest Scandihoovian musical about farting (“Grandma Cut The Christmas Cheese [The Christmas Cheese Polka]“), rejected sexual overtures (“It’s Christmas So Give Me Some More“), and near death experiences (“Gunner Fell Into an Ice Hole“). The comeuppance seems more ‘It’s a Wonderful’ than Scrooge, but what a ride. The pastiche “What Would Barbra Streisand Do?” lands. The white rap “Yo Yo Yo” doesn’t. But white doo wop for “Another Piece of Pie” takes the cake. Ethnic kidding.

The good ‘A Christmas Carol’s out there build on the textual Dickens. For example, StarKid’s “VHS Christmas Carol” is a bizarre multimedia synth fest from the ’80s. The original songs, sly anachronisms, and cabaret casualness make the serious-as-a-heart-attack moral seem more timeless. I’ve tagged “I’m the Ghost” before, but this historian’s lesson is disco-lite fun. Then the present ghost’s “Christmas Electricity” is disco-hard fun (with dance tutorial). Next, “The Final Ghost” showcases the Scrooge character’s comedy as he nearly raps to an unspeaking motivator. A moving operetta with a killer backbeat.

The 1992 “A Muppet Christmas Carol” wins the musicals award for best Dickens, though. Schmaltzy (“When Love is Gone“), but Paul Williams (“One More Sleep ’til Christmas“), so the songs are occasionally catchy (“Christmas Scat“) and the wordplay is precious (“Scrooge“). “Marley and Marley” is one of the better dance numbers–and it’s adapted so The Muppet Show duo elder hecklers fit the single role of Dante’s Virgil. But i’ve marked that song before. Let’s go with all the attributes in one song: “It Feels Like Christmas,” the ghost of Present making the case for love.

I may not be able to account for all the ‘A Christmas Carol’ musicals. Let’s bring on the Dickens.

We’ve already made obeisance to perhaps the best of these musicals, ‘Mr. Magoo’s A Christmas Carol.’

Most pregnant with expectation, may have been the 1970 musical ‘Scrooge.’ Nipping at the heels of the Best Picture ‘Oliver,’ this Grand Guignol movie earned critical raves of ‘unobtrusive’ and ‘innocuous’ and ‘forgettable.’ Albert Finney was noted as not really singing. The short-ish songs aren’t too bad though. “Father Christmas” is a marching merry jape urchins make over Scrooge in the street. Fezziwig’s party in the past is a fine reel for “December the 25th.” From the present, the spirit teaches affirmations to Scrooge with “I Like Life,” a fine stumble into positivism. The most memorable number is from the plunderers of the neglected estate in the future “Thank You Very Much“–another grand tramp through town. I’m welcome.

Overfeeding the cash cow, ‘A Christmas Story, The Musical‘ in 2009 enlarged slightly upon the middle class time capsule of the ’83 movie. The 1940s Hoosier setting seems to have nothing to do with the war years, but all to do with bourgeois religion of greed (“Counting Down to Christmas“). Granted, “Red Ryder Carbine Action BB Gun” makes a showstopping appearance, but the emergence of existential angst (“Somewhere Hovering Over Indiana“) sticks out like a polio outbreak. When humanity rears “What a Mother Does” or “When You’re a Wimp,” it embarrasses us with the previously undiagnosed ingredients that have led America to mass murder and gender warfare. Most untainted and innocent must be “A Kid at Christmas.”

Also in the nobody asked for it category, ‘Elf The Musical‘ was the 2010 adapt of the 2003 film. Overearnest (“A Christmas Song“), overorchestrated (“Finale“), over the top stylings (“Never Fall in Love with an Elf“) smother the silly comedy of a hyperactive man-child who doesn’t fit in the world of fantasy (“Christmastown“) nor the world of fiscality (“Just Like Him“). Then again, the burlesque number about department store imposters “Nobody Cares About Santa” stands out.

‘Jingle Jangle‘ is the ’20 Netflix musical about dueling toymakers goaded on by their sentient toys, but neglectful of their families. Hardly a Christmas miracle, this whirligig of a spectacle is rife with gospel (“Make It Work“) and guilt (“Over and Over“), while allowing for growth (“Square Root of Possible“). [Ed.: ‘The Games Maker‘ was a better movie about the same thing.] “Borrow Indefinitely” is the surprising tango number from one of the toys. It deserves a minute of your time.

Also beset with potential, ‘Anna and the Apocalypse‘ was a ’17 British curiosity: zombie-fighting teen musical. Cool concept, meh production. The songs are indistinct navel gazers about who-am-I and who’ll-love-me. But, it’s set during the holidays and has a whole single song about Christmas (“Christmas Means Nothing Without You“–the same old pop). I mention this in passing, as the one song that stands out is when the school bully takes center stage about how much he wants to kick zombie ass in “Soldier at War.” Nearly entertaining.

A “Flahooley” was a doll manufactured by B.G. Bigelow, Incorporated, the world’s largest (fictional) toy manufacturer. Toymaker Sylvester created the laughing doll as part of the company’s potential Christmas line. But then–an Arabian delegation wants its genie lamp fixed by the toy company (???) so it can continue to pump oil(???). Hijinx ensue with capitalism (“Jump Li’l Chillun” is the strange gospel song about it–yes, it’s racist) and magic (“The Springtime Cometh” is cute doggerel lacquering on a silver lining) competing for the hearts and minds of all doll buyers.

This 1951 musical closed after 40 shows, a failure by most standards. The McCarthyism of the time was blamed (the writer E.Y. Harburg had been blacklisted as a sympathizer) and his slanted humor and musicality seemed too bitter a pill to swallow for most. (See: “Najala’s Song of Joy,” a mishegas of nonsense that’s meant to honor Middle Eastern culture.)

The doll itself gets a forced laugh in the “Flahooley!” marketing song. Boisterous anthem that spits in your face.

The love song “He’s Only Wonderful” is overproduced shouting.

“Who Says There Ain’t No Santa Claus?” (from Sylvester) interrupts the plot early on for a jaunty symphonic rhetorical quandry meant to cement an awkward couple. Some fun. Though not much.