Most people don't realize what a multifaceted story A Christmas Carol actually is, which is probably what makes it such a difficult story to adapt correctly.

There have been some phenomenally inventive reimaginings of it - Bill Murray's Scrooged is far and away my favorite, for reasons I might elaborate on later - but in terms of relatively faithful translations of Charles Dickens' novel, I can't think of any that I like better than the 1984 made-for-TV movie of A Christmas Carol, starring George C. Scott as Ebeneezer Scrooge, that AMC started playing last December and have brought back this year.

First off, its casting alone makes it quite possibly the nerdiest version ever to appear on film:

• As young Ebeneezer Scrooge, we have Mark Strickson, a.k.a. Vislor Turlough, companion to the Fifth Doctor on Doctor Who.
  
  
• As Mrs. Cratchit, we have Susannah York, a.k.a. Superman's mom from the Christopher Reeve films.
  
  
• As one of the charitable solicitors, we have Michael Gough, a.k.a. Alfred from the Tim Burton Batman films (and the Celestial Toymaker from Doctor Who).
  
  
• And as Bob Cratchit, we have DAVID MOTHERFUCKING WARNER, a.k.a. Sark from TRON, Evil from Time Bandits, and the man who has been cast in roughly sleventy baskrillion separate roles in the Star Trek franchise (I believe the entire cast of at least one of the Star Trek films actually consisted solely of Warner in different costumes and makeup for each part).

If you could somehow retroactively recast Patrick Stewart as Scrooge in this adaptation, I'm pretty sure the sheer density of its nerdity would cause it to collapse in upon itself.

More importantly, though, is the fact that this movie recognizes that its story's success is the sum of all of its parts. Family-values conservatives look at A Christmas Carol and see an unapologetic defense of one of their favorite religious holidays. Social reformer liberals look at the same story and see a scathing critique of greedy, selfish capitalists who refuse to spread the wealth. Both sides are right, and to varying degrees, both have been acknowledged in other adaptations of Dickens' novel, but what a lot of them overlook is that Dickens, like Shakespeare, also wrote for the masses, and in A Christmas Carol, he did that by writing a creepy-ass GHOST STORY.

How is it possible that so many people can be oblivious to this? Yes, the Ghost of Christmas Future is almost always rendered to resemble the Grim Reaper, and he foretells the potential deaths of both Tiny Tim and Scrooge himself, but the 1984 movie version of A Christmas Carol is one of the few to remind the audience that the Ghosts of Christmas Past and Present should be seen as no less scary. Casting Angela Pleasence and Edward Woodward in those roles, respectively, goes a hell of a long way toward restoring those characters' properly disturbing personae. Whereas lesser adaptations reduce these two spirits to the level of Wispy Fairy Lady and Bellowing Sanguine Buffoon, Pleasence and Woodward play them as Skeevy Grinning Glowing Bitch and Hot-Tempered Pantsless Pedo With Hungry Waifs Hidden Under His Robe.

Indeed, one of the best moments comes right after the Ghost of Christmas Present has shown Scrooge a homeless family's Christmas evening, and Woodward, as the spirit in question, informs Scrooge with muted but cheerful vindictiveness that he'll just be leaving him there, alone, in an unfamiliar part of the city, in the middle of the night. Woodward's casual cruelty in the role really reinforces the sense that this spiritual visitation is meant to be a "Scared Straight" session for Scrooge.

And what of Scrooge himself? As a character, he's even easier to adapt incorrectly than the story in which he stars, because his character arc goes through more gear-shifts than all of the vehicles in the Fast & Furious franchise. You need someone who can be a massive ham actor in the role, because Scrooge begins and ends the story at two opposite extremes - he starts out as the world's stingiest asshole, and turns into such a humanitarian and philanthropist that he becomes universally beloved for it. One of the reasons why grade school classes used to stage precis performances of A Christmas Carol was because Scrooge's exuberance after his spiritual enlightenment lends itself to precisely the sort of overblown theatrics that fifth-graders who emote in bright primary colors can do quite well (and yes, in fifth grade, I played Scrooge myself).

At the same time, though, far too many adaptations carry that same style of SPEAKING IN ALL CAPS acting into the middle part of Scrooge's arc, which results in the dual failures of making Scrooge seem like a whimpering coward AND making his eventual transformation come across as less than convincing. When Scrooge is dealing with the spirits, this is when his character arc should be on a gradual ramp, slowly but surely building toward his awakening, and whatever emotions he displays should, with the exceptions of a few notable outbursts, be subtly underplayed.

George C. Scott not only reins himself in well, between his appropriately overplayed polar opposites as a miser and an altruist, but he also plays perhaps the most ballsy and openly confrontational Scrooge I've ever seen. Yes, he has his moments of begging the spirits for mercy, but what's remarkable is how often his pleas come across much more as demands. And really, if you look at the character of Scrooge, this fits. This is a guy who came from a childhood of emotional neglect, and sacrificed love to claw his way to the top. Because Scrooge is an old man whose home is being invaded by powerful spirits, the temptation is to portray him as simpering in fear, but that ascribes a weakness to his character that's not really in keeping with the life he's led. Scrooge is a hard-hearted bastard, but part of that necessarily means that he's ill-inclined to back down from anyone.

And really, THAT'S the tug-of-war in Scrooge's spiritual revelation, is in getting a strong-willed guy who's built his life around standing his ground to admit that he's been wrong all along.

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