Holiday Viewing: “Scrooge,” 1951

Of all the many film versions of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, this one, in my opinion, is the best. Produced and directed in 1951 in Britain by Brian Desmond Hurst, the film was originally released under the title, Scrooge. When it was distributed in the United States, United Artists preferred to use the name, A Christmas Carol.

Alastair Sim plays the title character—perfectly. His Scrooge is crusty, but charmingly so, slightly mad and shows us just a little vulnerability beneath his initially hard exterior. Joining Mr. Sim is Kathleen Harrison as Scrooge’s charwoman, Hermione Baddeley and Mervyn Johns as Mrs. And Mr. Cratchit, Michael Hordern as Marley’s ghost, Patrick MacNee as young Marley and Ernest Thesiger as the undertaker. The rest of the cast is also exceptional—each giving performances which seem to have been directed by Dickens himself.

The film differs from the original text a bit. The name of Ebenezer’s fiancée is changed from Belle to Alice and we learn more about her than we do in the book. We get more of a back story into the business relationship of Scrooge and Marley. Scrooge’s charwoman adopts the name Mrs. Dilber when she’s nameless in the book and Mrs. Dilber is actually the laundress. The most notable difference is the inclusion of an explanation for Scrooge’s sour disposition—having apparently been the cause of his mother’s death during his birth. This addition is meant to balance Scrooge’s distaste for his nephew since his beloved sister died during childbirth as well.

These minor changes notwithstanding, the film follows the book relatively well and includes much dialogue straight from the pages of Dickens. What I like most about this film is that it’s so very English. It’s an English film about an English book made in England and actually shot in and around London. This is something that just can’t be replicated. No special effects, no amount of dialogue coaching, nor any scenic trickery will ever be able to match that.

Another enjoyable aspect of the film is the soundtrack. The music was composed by Richard Addinsell who added traditional English music to his dramatic score. Included in this assortment is “The Ballad of Barbara Allen”—a song which I’ve always loved (as you already know).

If you’ve not seen it, you must watch this film sometime this Christmas season. If you have seen it, watch it again. It’s available on DVD and, surprisingly, on Blu Ray. Many of the DVD copies come with the 1989 colorized version of the film. To that, I say, “Humbug!”

Here's the whole film...

Object of the Day: Razzleberry Dressing

Click image to enlarge.

There’s something about this chromolithograph which puts me in mind of “Mr. Magoo’s Christmas Carol.” While the illustrator seems to have relied on mid-Twentieth Century style, it simply can’t be. The card—likely a giveaway for Christmas—dates to at least the 1890s.

This serves as an interesting reminder that the artistic styles of the late 1950s and early 1960s were heavily influenced by Victorian designs. Think about it. Popular art from the 1950s often involves retellings of patterns and proportions which were found in Nineteenth Century popular art. Even the fashionable colors were similar—just combined in different ways.

We could take this back even further and look at the ways in which Victorian popular arts were influenced by the Rococo, and, by Mannerism, etc. But, we don’t need to do that. After all, we’ll have the brightest Christmas, the very lightest Christmas, a Christmas that’s more glorious than grand. 

Oh, Magoo, you’ve done it again. 

Mastery of Design: The Falize Cloisonné Necklace, 1867

Enamel Necklace
In the Japanese Style
Alexis Falize
France, 1867
The Victoria & Albert Museum

In the 1860’s, Parisian jewelers became enamored of the Japanese style and tried to replicate Asian enamels. Prior to the 1850s, and since the 1820’s, Japanese style was barely recognized in Paris. However, the Japanese Court at the London Exhibition of 1862 and similar displays at the Paris Universal Exhibition of 1867 caused quite a stir amongst the artistic community. Designers of all types were inspired by what they had seen.

This is a great example of the intricate technique of costly cloisonné enamel wherein the precise outlines of the design are the result of the tiny 'cloisons' or cells that hold the enamel and which have to be individually shaped from thin gold strips. The flower and bird motifs that we see in this 1867 example by Alexis Falize (1811-1898) are taken from Japanese prints, although the vibrant shades show the influence of Chinese work. The necklace of cloisonné enamel and gold shows Alexis Falize’s expert eye as well as the skill of Falize’s chief enameller, Antoine Tard. The circlet is made up of ten long panels of enameled gold which are punctuated with gold rosettes. Five circular pendants hang from the lower edge of the piece. 

Building of the Week: Villa Mantin, Moulins, France

BBC News

When wealthy art collector and gentleman of leisure Louis Mantin passed away in 1905, his last will and testament stated his desire to leave his elegantly appointed mansion to the City of Moulins so that the public could be admitted to view his impressive and unusual collection of artifacts and art. The only stipulation, it seemed, was that the spacious townhouse would have to remain sealed and untouched for one hundred years. In reality, there was some misinterpretation of the terms of his will. He had stated only that after one hundred years, the house was to become a museum. He didn’t specifically state what should happen in the interim. At the time, officials believed his desire was that the house should remain unopened. And, so it was. Largely forgotten and unnoticed for a century, when city officials entered the house, they were unsure of what to do with it. Soon, the spirit of the place overtook them, and the answer was clear. Mantin’s wishes had to be carried out.

BBC News

Mantin spent most of his adult life working in civil service. He never married, and preferred to keep to himself. In his forty-second year, he inherited a substantial fortune which he immediately put to good use. Purchasing a sizeable plot of land in the center of Moulins—land upon which a palace of the Dukes of Bourbon once stood—Matin set about having a beautiful mansion constructed. From that moment onward, Matin’s life was devoted to his passions—the pursuit of pleasure, supporting the arts and his keen interest in science.

BBC News

The townhouse was a marvel of turrets and stained glass. Filled with the finest fabrics, tapestries, paintings and sculptures, the house was not just a museum. It was also a technological masterpiece which represented the triumphs of the day—electricity, hot and cold running water and even a towel warmer. Magnificent crystal chandeliers glittered in the reception rooms and shone brilliantly against the ornate woodwork, carvings and antiquities from the around the world.

An unsullied treasure chest filled with art and glorious architecture, the house sat abandoned in the center of Moulins for a century. People walked by it and didn’t think much of it. It had always been there. It had always been untouched. After seeing it every day, it just began to blend into the scenery. Meanwhile, the structure was beginning to crumble. Who would know? It’s not as if anyone was really keeping an eye on it.

BBC News

Well, sort of. One person was paying attention-- Isabelle de Chavagnac, Mantin’s last remaining descendant. Technically, the house and its contents would have legally reverted to her after the passage of one hundred years. However, she was not tempted by the possibility of inheriting the mansion and its priceless inventory. Instead, she wanted to see that her ancestor’s last wishes were carried out. De Chavagnac pressed the city of Moulins to take action. Soon, money was raised to restore the mansion which had long since fallen into disrepair. The restoration of the property took five years. However, thanks to Matin’s detailed notes and careful lists of the placement of each item, the house was reassembled to the condition it was in when Matin died in 1905. Opening its doors in 2010 (five years later than Matin would have liked), the Villa Matin is, indeed, the museum that its owner had envisioned. A veritable time capsule in the middle of the city, Villa Matin will enchant visitors for centuries to come.

Gifts of Grandeur: A Sapphire Cloak Clasp, 1914

Cloak Clasp
Henry Wilson, 1914
The Victoria & Albert Museum

A beautiful combination of gold with cloisonné enamel, cabachon sapphires, emeralds, pearls and seed pearls, this cloak clasp is by Henry Wilson whose jewelry is celebrated for its rich color combinations in stones and enamel, and applauded for its sculptural qualities.

Wilson’s work is considered the apex of Arts and Crafts design. Like C.R. Ashbee, Wilson originally trained as an architect, but became interested in metals and precious stones in the early 1890s. After learning his craft, he went on to teach at the Royal College of Art where he published a practical manual called, “Silverwork and Jewellery” in 1903.

Like many Arts and Crafts designers, Wilson was influenced by nature. This is evidenced in the leaf motif of the clasp.

Unusual Artifacts: Devonshire Villas, 1900

Devonshire Villas No. 3
England, 1900
This and all related images from:
The Victoria & Albert Museum

This isn’t a dollhouse. It’s actually a replica of an actual house that stood in Kilburn, North London in the Devonshire Villas. The house, No. 3—now long gone—was once the home of Mr. Samuel Loebl who commissioned this model as a gift for his daughter, Cecy, so that she would have a record of her childhood home. The model was made in 1900 and it passed from Cecy to her own daughter who donated it to the V&A in 1972.

The model, like the real house on High Road in Northwest London had been, is decorated in the height of early Twentieth Century fashion—much in the Art Nouveau style--and includes a host of “modern” amenities, including a fitted bathroom with a double sink in the kitchen. The bathroom walls are outfitted with "sanitary" wallpaper—paper coated with a special material which allowed it to be washed, a new concept at the time. The nursery, almost an exact replica of the real thing, was filled with miniature toys and a colorful frieze.

The most interesting thing, perhaps, is that the model contains a small telephone. The six room replica also depicts the house’s conservatory (separated from the drawing room by a beaded curtain). The hallway of the model also replicates the handsome stained glass window of the original house.

Cecy Loebl even had a hand in the decorating of the model. She made the carpets, lampshades and furniture upholstery to match those of the real house’s bedroom and drawing room.

The replica was exhibited at a 1925 Toy Fair in Frankfurt where it was wholly praised for the fine replication of the original house.

A Recipe for Punch, Chapter 31

Chapter 31
Morgana



This wasn't the first time Morgana had been free in the house.  Once before she'd gotten away from her cell in the attics and wandered the passages of Fallbridge Hall.  The first time, she had only been there a few days.  That pointy-nosed man--Quick--had been speaking to her, telling her about God and salvation and how fortunate she was to be in a "good" home and how blessed she was to have been given a chance by such "kindly" people.  She didn't care for that man, that Mr. Quick.  He wasn't as bad as Mr. Jackson, but he was still a terrible bother.

As Morgana hobbled about Fallbridge Hall, she recalled that first night of freedom.  She knew that they wondered if she could understand them.  The spoke to her as if she was a child or a deaf-mute.  She could understand them.  She knew quite well what Mr. Quick and Mr. Jackson were talking about when they spoke in hushed voices about their impending voyage to America, and she also knew they'd not been paying close enough attention when they secured her chains.

That had been the first time she'd gotten out.  Yes, she remembered it fondly.  Well--almost.    She recalled the sense of liberty fondly.  It was one of the only times in her life she'd been free.  

Morgana whimpered. 

How could she have known that the old housekeeper was going to react so badly?  Morgana just wanted the woman to be quiet.  How could she have known that holding someone's neck so tightly would kill them?  What had been her name?  Mrs Foster, that was it.  

And, then, when the man came at her, she had to defend herself.  He had been called William.  Morgana didn't want to kill him either, but she had to.

Morgana paused for a moment.  They had a new William now.  A different William.  The new one was nicer.  Why didn't they ever let him come to see her?  She only heard his voice through the door.

Why, Morgana wondered, did she only get to see Jackson, Ivy and that horrid Gregory?  Ivy was the best of the lot, and that wasn't saying much.  At least Ivy was gentle--sometimes.

She sniffed the air.  Who were all these new people?  The house was filled with new people.  What had they brought with them?  Food?  Pretty things?  Disease and fever?

Fever.

Morgana snorted.  She recalled how Jackson told Ivy that they'd say Mrs. Foster and the first William had died of fever.

Did these new people bring fever?

It had been a fever that had been responsible for making her this way.  Partly.

She sniffed again.  No, they smelled clean, good and clean.

Despite her screaming, the lady in the bed seemed very nice.  She was clean, and pretty, and she had on such a lovely sleeping gown.  Morgana had just wanted to touch her soft hair and skin.

The two men were pretty two.  The one with the dark brown hair had fine, broad shoulders and a sturdy torso.  His eyes were blue like she remembered the sky to be.  But, still, he was a doctor.  Doctors had to be watched out for.

What of the other man?  The one with the dark auburn hair?  His face was very kind and his eyes were warm.  He had a bit of a wild look to him, too.  He also looked strong, but not like he'd hurt a person.  And, he spoke so gently.  Could he be trusted?  The other two seemed to rely on his judgment.  They looked at him so fondly.

Maybe those three weren't bad.

But, there were others.

Morgana looked up.  She felt as though someone was watching her, looking at her, seeing her.

It was not a good feeling.  She tried to cover her face with her pincers.

She wanted to hide.

Who was looking at her?

She couldn't see anyone.

Where could she hide?

Looking around, Morgana realized she'd gotten to a part of the house in which she'd never been before.

A door.

She grasped the handle firmly between her pincers.

Oh...there was another girl.  Two girls.

Young, they were.  One younger than the other.

They were sleeping.  

One had light brown hair.  She was the younger one.  Freckles on her face.

The other was blonde.  Her hair reached only to her shoulders.  She was so beautiful.  The blankets had slipped off of her a little and Morgana could see her hands.  Such sweet hands--delicate, long fingers.  Pretty hands.

Morgana trembled.

She wanted hands like those.

Glancing over at the brown-haired girl, Morgana crept as quietly as she could toward the blonde.

Pity that the blonde started screaming as Morgana scooped her up.


Did you miss Chapters 1-30 of A Recipe for Punch?  If so, you can read them here.  Come back tomorrow for Chapter 32.