Displaying items by tag: Benet Academy’s Madrigal Singers

I arrived at the Goodman Theatre for the opening of its 47^th annual production of A Christmas Carol, directed by Jessica Thebus, like many of us—not really feeling the upcoming holidays. I’m usually a real Pollyanna, trying to put on the happy face. I’m usually Bob Cratchit, the good soldier. I’m Tiny Tim Cratchit, even, throwing around “God bless us, everyone” like it’s tinsel. But not this year. This year, I got to the Goodman feeling like a regular Scrooge. And then I walked into the lobby and the whole thing hit me like a series of middle-of-the-night spectral visits upon a four-poster bed. It changed me.

From the balcony above we were greeted by Benet Academy’s Madrigal Singers, sprinkling down on us carol after carol. Seated next to a large, unlit Christmas tree was William Buchholtz, a Native American flautist and a haunting caroler himself. Thebus, back for her fourth Goodman production of this holiday favorite, addressed the audience, lighting the tree and spreading some cheer—and we hadn’t even found our seats yet.

Once the show began, the sets by Todd Rosenthal transported us back to a different beautiful but bleak era—Dickensian England. All of the trappings one expects of A Christmas Carol are there. Muffed carolers, chestnut peddlers and poultry peddlers, and Scrooge & Marley’s beckoning lending house. There we meet Christopher Donahue’s Ebenezer Scrooge—mutton-chopped and hunched and as unhappy as we expect Scrooge to be. But that darkness, very real and very dark, is constantly counteracted by the radiance of the rest of the cast. Anthony Irons’ Bob Cratchit, cheerful charity collectors played by Penelope Walker and Wai Kim, and Dee Dee Batteast’s ever-loving niece all fend off Scrooge’s glare and gruffness by not even acknowledging his grinchiness—their world, while perhaps less financially happy than Scrooge’s, is a completely separate and better world emotionally than his, down to the vibrant colors of their costumes.

(L-R) Anthony Irons, Christopher Donahue, Ava Rose Doty, Xavier Irons, Henry Lombardo, Isabel Ackerman, Viva Boresi, Tafadzwa Diener and Susaan Jamshidi.

Once back at Scrooge’s house (whose ghastly door knocker made both me and my young daughter jump, even though I knew what was coming) we are surrounded by this bleak world this miserable old miser’s made for himself. It’s drafty and dark and dusty and the perfect place for the jarring arrival of Scrooge’s long-dead partner, Jacob Marley, played by William Dick.

The sights and sounds of Marley’s visit are frightening, even when expected, but they contrast the joy and light spread by the first two spirits who visit Scrooge once Marley departs. Lucky Stiff’s Ghost of Christmas Past is buoyant and bright and over the top—meant to get Scrooge’s attention and ours. The spirit transports us all back in time where our hearts break along with a young Ebenezer Scrooge, portrayed brilliantly by Henry Lombardo, and then leap across the hardwood of Fezziwig’s warehouse-turned-dancehall, only to be broken again by Scrooge’s interaction with his true love played charmingly by Amira Danan. We see all the light Scrooge has lost—and it only makes him and the world he’s created that much darker.

Scrooge’s present is as sad as the present world around him is resolutely jolly, made all the more so by Bri Sudia’s Ghost of Christmas Present. The Cratchit children—Isabel Ackerman, Viva Boresi, Xavier Irons, Tafradzwa Diener, and Ava Rose Doty as Tiny Tim—counter Susaan Jamshidi’s tired and realistic Mrs. Cratchit, just as Batteast does at an evening party attended by other folks who are over it.

While Marley’s ghost was truly terrifying, this Ghost of Christmas Future was less scary and sadder—a dead flower, a faded dowager. But, of course, it’s the specter of a sad future that finally snaps Scrooge out of his life of being a scrooge.

And Donahue’s transformation is very real. We’re all used to a claw-handed and clench-jawed Scrooge from film after film. And we know the change to come—to that of a heel-clicking distributor of charity and cheer. But seeing it happen right there, before our eyes, was as magical an effect as any of the magic on display. A real Christmas miracle.

Now, I have no clue if transforming a Scrooge-like audience was Thebus’ intent (or Dickens’), although I’m sure that’s what both were aiming for. But just like the Victorians who Dickens was addressing, our world today could use some hope and some cheer. And just as Donahue’s Scrooge did onstage, I found myself leaving the Goodman Theatre a little more hopeful and a little more cheerful. I have no idea if you’ll experience the same transformation as I did, but I can promise you that this production of A Christmas Carol, at the Goodman Theatre from now through December 30, will at the very least entertain you and warm your heart this holiday season.