When I told my family and friends that I would be seeing Nashville Repertory Theatre’s A Christmas Carol last week, I was met with the same sentiment over and over.
“A classic!”
“Oh, that’s one of my favorites.”
“My grandma loves that story!”
I quickly received the message that everyone knows A Christmas Carol, and it’s beloved by all. The performance, based on the novella by Charles Dickens, is a well-known tale adapted worldwide in film, opera, ballet, television, and, of course, theatre. Even Mickey Mouse and The Muppets have their own renditions. Ebenezer Scrooge, his entourage of ghosts, and all the humans he has scorned come to life in more ways than I was willing to count on A Christmas Carol’s Wikipedia page.
Nashville Rep chose to produce Micah-Shane Brewer’s adaption for their 40th anniversary season’s Christmas performance. As I settled into my seat on Nashville’s coldest night in December, my coat spilling into my neighbor’s lap, I thought, “What will make this one so different from the rest?” I knew the gist of it, because who doesn’t? Scrooge, a craggily old miser, hates Christmas, despises people, and bah-humbugs his way through life, leaving nothing but misery and rude hand gestures in his wake. But, thanks to his dead partner and three ghosts, he’s shown the error of his ways and makes a complete character turn-around by Christmas morning, giving Santa Clause a run for his money as the jolliest soul on earth. It’s heartwarming and resonating, and Tiny Tim is saved in the end, which is all we hope for. What was Nashville Rep going to do to put a unique spin on this well-known tale, if anything at all?
When the lights dimmed and the curtain rose, I finally realized my coat was in my neighbor’s lap. With a whispered apology I shoveled it back into my seat and turned my attention toward the stage, my eyes widening as the curtain peeled back to reveal one of the most atmospheric set designs I’ve ever seen Nashville Rep produce. As the townsfolk swished their skirts and kicked their heels, introducing us into their world with a merry song, I took in the intricacies of the Victorian London they had transported us to. There were streetlamps that looked as if they had been plucked straight off the streets of Oxfordshire and buildings with wooden doors and glowing windows that were so convincing, I was certain if I knocked on one, it would open to a family home or a Victorian-era business. This was what I was in for tonight? If all I had to do was sit back, mind where my coat wandered, and allow myself to be carried into Nashville Rep’s world of A Christmas Carol, then I was certainly in for a treat.
Nashville Rep chose to interpret this classic tale in a way that stayed true to the period with historically accurate set and costume design and dialect while delightfully branching out with a Shondaland’s Bridgerton-esque diverse cast boasting of enormous talent. I was particularly impressed by Brian Charles Rooney’s captivating stage presence as the Ghose of Christmas Present and Brenda Sparks’s endearing and oftentimes hilarious performance as both Mrs. Kimball and Victoria. I deeply appreciated Matthew Carlton’s interpretation of Scrooge, moving in a way that made his body appear riddled with pain and fatigue until Christmas morning when he transformed into someone much younger and with endless amounts of energy. He was so convincing I almost thought my five-year-old son had managed to escape the babysitter and find a way on stage.
There was fine attention to detail, like how the Ghost of Christmas Present’s beard grayed and his posture hunched as time passed and how the sign on the business changed depending on what flashback Scrooge was subjected to. There were changing details so small that I was grateful for my 20/20 eyesight, otherwise I believe they would have all gone past me in a blur.
As I watched this predictable story unfold, I was struck with a perspective that caused me to sit a little straighter and erase that hunch my mother is always commenting on. I may have even leaned forward in my seat just a bit. I saw this show on December 6th, the day four individual American billionaires (Musk, Ellison, Bezos, and Zuckerberg) reached a combined net worth of one trillion dollars. This also happened to be two nights after UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson was murdered by a suspected targeted hit, the words “deny, defend, depose” written on the bullets that killed him. Those three words are often credited to strategies health insurance companies use when avoiding payouts to filed claims.
Suddenly, I wasn’t seeing Scrooge and his greed as a story taken from a dusty old tome off my grandmother’s bookshelf but as a timeless tale of warning written precisely for the people in the headlines of the present-day. The genius of this narrative was revealed to me at the exact moment that Marley visited Scrooge. Through A Christmas Carol, Dickens explores how the greed of the wealthy will always be a deadly epidemic, not only to those who hold the coin purse but also to those subjected to depositing the coin. As the rich grow richer, the world is seeing polarizing effects to the detriment of the environment, the economy, and the population’s overall livelihood. Using a classic story with a modern-day cast, Nashville Rep effortlessly takes nostalgia and present-day disdain and weaves them together to serve a message of warning not only to the wealth-hoarding billionaires of today, but also to the people.
As the performers sang their final number, tipping their top hats and curtseying to the audience with smiles and winks, I realized how valuable stories like A Christmas Carol are. Nashville Rep’s version is gorgeous, heartwarming, and introspective. The talent is jaw-dropping and makes performing a tale rich with history and modern-day messages look effortless. If you are looking for a festive way to support the local arts this December, please look no further than Nashville Repertory Theatre’s A Christmas Carol, which is being performed at TPAC until December 22nd.
As I walked back to my car after the performance, burrowed in my coat, which had caused too much drama for one night, I had a thought. It was fleeting, like the first of Marley’s whispers to Scrooge on his way home from work Christmas Eve, but with every burst of wind that cut across my cheeks, the thought came back, lingering longer each time. Eventually, it was all I could think about, and it formed into a phrase that slammed around in my brain like a relentlessly pounding doorknocker.
“If I write this into my review, will you go away?” I asked the phrase like the completely sane person that I am.
“Certainly,” it replied.
“Alright,” I said, then sat down to write the last three words of this review first.
Haunt the rich.
