Donner: Scrooged (1988)

One of the darkest Christmas films of the 80s, Scrooged stars Bill Murray as Frank Cross, a misanthropic TV executive who won’t make any concessions to his staff for Christmas, forcing them to all stay back for a live telecast of A Christmas Carol instead of using prerecorded material. As the night passes, and Frank is visited by his own versions of the ghosts of Christmas past, present and future, it becomes clear that the film’s anxious to dissociate Christmas from television, especially live television – yet, when Frank finally has his epiphany, he’s only able to share it with the world through the same live broadcast that conjured up the ghosts in the first place. Given that bind, the film searches for a new model of live television that’s true to the spirit of Christmas and, like Network a decade before, settles upon televangelism; it’s no coincidence that Frank’s final address devolves into a slightly crazed sermon. In many ways, then, it’s a film that’s quite conscious of its remediation, on television, as a Christmas movie, as well as the competition it’s likely to face from the kind of live broadcasts that Frank promulgates. By concluding with his televangelical conversion, then, it seeks to pre-empt and contain the visceral power of live broadcasts – for all its emphasis on the Christmas spirit, it’s competitive despite itself. And that makes it the perfect vehicle for Murray, who shines as misanthropes who don’t quite redeem themselves, or allow themselves to be tamed – Frank’s final sermon never quite rids itself of the manic excesses of his take on Scrooge, just as you can’t quite rid yourself of the suspicion that, despite his sincerity, he’s still sharing that sincerity in the best possible way to attract ratings. Conversely, Murray plays the whole film like it’s a live broadcast, in one of his twitchiest and most self-conscious roles: whether he flattens the camera with sheer energy, or deflates it with a knowing look or wink, he’s more anxious to be there, in your living room, than in nearly any of his other performances. In a strange way, that makes him the most immediate, insinuating Christmas hero since George Bailey – and it’s not a stretch to say that it’s as much an adaptation of It’s A Wonderful Life as A Christmas Carol; of all the ghosts, the ghost of Christmas future is the most chilling and memorable, if only because he feels like a natural extension of the film’s austere, cybernoir set design, harbinger of a dystopian Christmas future that’s almost already here.