My favourite Marx Brother was Groucho, false mustache and funny walk.
This is genius.
Nothing more needs to be said.
Photo by The New York Public Library on Unsplash
My favourite Marx Brother was Groucho, false mustache and funny walk.
This is genius.
Nothing more needs to be said.
Photo by The New York Public Library on Unsplash
The many faces of Ebenezer Scrooge and a timeless tale of redemption.
It’s that time of year. Christmas television in the UK would hardly feel complete without at least one version of A Christmas Carol appearing on our screens. For many, it has become as much a part of the festive season as mince pies, tinsel, and repeats of The Great Escape.
Every Christmas, A Christmas Carol will make an appearance.
Written by Charles Dickens in 1843, the story began life as a short novella. Set around Christmastime, it tells the tale of Ebenezer Scrooge, an elderly and bitter miser whose only true love is money. Scrooge is rude, dismissive, and, regardless of whether it is Christmas, joyless. He treats everyone around him with contempt, especially those that he employs, his long-suffering clerk Bob Cratchit.
Any stranger who dares to wish him a Merry Christmas is greeted with “bah humbug”, while those seeking charity donations are shown the door.
Over time, Scrooge has driven away friends and family alike, and he appears not to care. That is, until one Christmas Eve, when he is visited by three spirits: the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future.
Each ghost shows him different aspects of his life, his past, and who he once was, and the man he has become. The final vision is the most chilling of all. The spirit tells him that if he refuses to change, he will face a lonely death, unmourned. No one will miss him when he is gone, and many will cheer. Faced with the consequences of his past choices, he decides to change. The story, at its heart, is about redemption, compassion, and the possibility of change.
There was a time, and it wasn’t that long ago, when Christmas television was every bit as exciting as the presents under the tree. It was a family highlight of the year — something to look forward to.
And all of that excitement began with the two sacred texts of television: the Radio Times and the TV Times. As Christmas approached, they arrived at the newsagent's, heavy with festive promise, you could smell the ink on the pages when you opened them.
They were the unofficial start of Christmas in many British households.
What’s In A Name?
The Radio Times was the original British Christmas radio and television listing magazine — how could it not be? Until commercial television and radio came along, there was only the BBC.
And for a while, it was only radio.
That history and tradition lives on in the name of the magazine, Radio Times. Although, today, and for some time now, the radio has taken a backseat to the world of visual media in the magazine. ‘Television’, in whatever way it is broadcast now — over the air waves, digital, satellite, cable, online or by smartphone, rules the day.
But it began with radio. The 1940 Radio Times (image above) was all about the radio listings. In those dark, early days of the Second World War, it was the only radio entertainment that people had.
Then television arrived, slowly at first, but by the 1970s, when Christmas arrived, it gave us everything that the entertainment industry had to offer.
The 1970s Experience—Three Channels, Several Generations, One Living Room.
Christmas telly back then was different.
With only three channels — BBC1, BBC2 and a regional commercial channel (I think we had ATV) — choice was limited, but the listings had real weight. We did have our own version of ‘doom-scrolling’ the listings magazines to see what was on. You also had to buy both magazines, as each only listed their own TV schedule.
When it came to how we watched, there was no streaming, no catch-up, no play later. Until video came along, if you missed it, you missed it. Forever, or until it was repeated — probably the next Christmas. And television closed down for the evening around midnight, starting up again in the morning.
The fear of missing a favourite show was as real as running out of Quality Street or Cadbury’s Roses on Christmas Day.
Most homes only had the one television — that one source of home entertainment. There was no TV in every room, or parents saying, “Go and watch it on the internet.” There was no, “I’ll watch it on my phone in my room.”
Christmas became a battleground of television rights, and it could get ugly. There would be ongoing living-room negotiations about what would be watched. The disagreements could rival anything at the United Nations.
“There’s a good film on ATV at the same time. Let’s watch that.”
“BBC1’s got the big Christmas special. We can’t miss it.”
“We have to watch Some Mothers Do ’Ave ’Em and Blankety Blank.”
“Can we watch Top of the Pops?”