Alert readers may recall that, while I'm posting the reviews of the Screengrab's 12 Days of Christmas Marathon movies in dribs and drabs over the days leading up to Christmas, I actually watched them all in sequence over the space of two days in a bleary haze of rum-soaked egg nog and seasonal affective disorder.  I had a highly formalized plan for which movie to watch in which particular order, but I drunkenly knocked over my stack of DVDs after the fifth movie, and then I just watched them in the order in which they fell on the living room floor.  I was hoping that it would be late in the day by the time I had to get around to watching some variation of A Christmas Carol -- I find the irascible-old-bastard Scrooge largely preferable to the lover-of-all-humanity Scrooge -- but here's where it turned up, so you're going to have to read about it.

My own misanthropy aside, it's not surprising that Charles Dickens' 1843 novella A Christmas Carol in Prose, Being a Ghost Story of Christmas has become one of the most beloved holiday stories of all time.  It's got a little bit of something for everyone:  a sincere, adorable crippled boy, for treacle fans; a handful of truly memorable characters; abundant humor, some of it rather more mordant than one might expect; a creepy ghost story; and, best of all, a central plot that appeals to lovers of Christmas everywhere:  a cranky old jerk who hates Christmas has, after a series of flashbacks and flash-forwards, a legendary change of heart and embraces the holiday in full, becoming the very embodiment of the spirit of giving and showering those poor souls he previously spurned with largesse.

Dickens write A Christmas Carol for the same reason he wrote a lot of his most famous work:  for a paycheck.  But it ended up having a much more vast impact on our entire culture than its author possibly imagined.  One of the most widely-read stories of the English canon, its familiar story and infinitely flexible formal structure have led it to become one of the most widely-adapted stories as well.  The number of stage plays, movies and very-special-episode television series based on the story are probably uncountable; as long as there is economic injustice, as long as there are lazy scriptwriters in love with the flashback gimmick; as long as there are cranky old jerks who, justfiably or not, aren't as into the holidays as the rest of us, there will continue to be new movie and TV versions of A Christmas Carol.

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The Screengrab's Paul Clark is away from a workable computer, but asked me to post this tribute to Anthony Minghella:

MSN is reporting that Oscar-winning filmmaker Anthony Minghella passed away last night from a brain hemorrhage. Minghella, whose next film, the HBO/BBC production No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency, is set to premiere next month in the UK, was fifty-four years old.

To many moviegoers, Minghella was best known as the director of prestige pictures such as The English Patient, The Talented Mr. Ripley, and Cold Mountain. In fact, so associated was he with high-toned adaptations that he recently appeared as the moderator of a literary program in last year's Atonement. But his best work was not so easily pigeonholed.

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