Metro Pulse/Grinch

Movie Guru Rating:
(2 out of 5)

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Why the Grinch had to be reinvented for Christmas

by Adrienne Martini

Some things should be held sacred. The animated version of Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas should be one of them, up there with A Charlie Brown Christmas on the list of stories that well-intentioned filmmakers shouldn't mess with. As it stood—and has stood with pride since its premiere on the small screen in '66—The Grinch was perfect from the tips of its Chuck Jones-penned toes to its Vincent Price-voiced audio track. And there was no reason to change one gnarly green hair on this wonderful Grinch-y head.

Until, of course, the good Doctor (a.k.a. Theodor Geisel) passed on and left the Grinch unsecured in the hands of his (equally good in her soul, I'm sure) wife Audrey. Then, one day Opie showed up and convinced her that live-action was the way to bring the Grinch to a generation of Nintendo-addicted modern kids who needed the story's message about greed and holidays pounded into their heads by a man who makes $20 million a picture. And the widow Geisel agreed; after all, no human on the planet could say no to Opie.

Then, of course, Universal Studios got involved, throwing money at a project that was sure to make incomprehensible amounts of cabbage for them, even after the investment in Jim Carrey and Ron Howard and Imagine were subtracted. And then toys were designed. And the Postal Service purchased. And the marketing campaign decisively plotted. And soon this perfect, wonderful little tale about the spirit of Christmas became a feature film, complete with special effects and a man in a rubber suit, which surely is what Christmas is about anymore anyway.

Perhaps the most striking aspect of the whole Grinch transition from cartoon to live-action film is the morphing of the message when taken in tandem with the vapid sales push that we are currently enduring. The screenwriters, Jeffrey Price and Peter S. Seaman, have gone to great lengths to create a backstory for this Carrey-Grinch, going so far as to give him parents of a sort, a horrid childhood, and some concrete reason for escaping up to his mountain lair.

Price and Seaman have even given the Grinch a lovely soliloquy about how those lovely holiday gifties, the ones that the Whos scramble around Whoville to acquire, end up in the landfill on his mountaintop by the time summer begins. (There's another lovely passage that paints the Grinch as the �r-recycler—a primordial beastie who takes others' trash and puts it to good use—but that's a whole other issue.) You wonder, then, if the folks who are selling Grinch boxer shorts and Grinch postmarks and Grinch bottle openers and Grinch Christmas ornaments and Grinch notebooks saw this draft of the script—or if they're just hoping that we'll all be too dazzled by the movie's magic to notice its message is that the holiday is about goodwill towards humankind and not the acquisition of more stuff. Clearly, though, the message isn't getting through, if the amount of Grinch what-not in evidence at a Saturday afternoon screening is to be believed.

But if you push the joys of capitalism aside, what is revealed by Ron Howard's Grinch isn't all that inspiring. You can tell that everyone involved in this lavish production—down to the littlest Who—worked from a very altruistic place where they honestly believed that they were doing a very good thing and paying homage to a very good story. Their attention to detail is astounding. Their devotion to the concept shines through in every frame. And that alone is to be respected.

But what they've actually done to the story is to be condemned. Howard and company (who have impressive resumes as long as a Who's arm) should have left well enough alone. Yes, this world they've created is visually stunning, but still, Seuss' simple drawings are twice as imaginative and evocative. Yes, they've made real-live people look like creatures from this wacky world of Seuss and in doing so stripped most of the fantasy from the original, magical tale by imposing human modes of logic and behavior onto it. Now the Grinch has a love interest. Now Cindy Lou Who is an investigative reporter who unlocks the mysteries of the Grinch's heart. And these additions add nothing to the story; in fact, the pacing becomes downright slothlike with these and umpteen other superfluous plot points. Stuffing all of this into what was a simple, perfect story on its own is like drawing a hat on the Mona Lisa simply because you want something new to sell.

It has been rumored that The Cat in the Hat will get the same treatment next, which may turn out a better product than this Grinch. Cat—both the book and the cartoon—has room for improvement and could turn into a masterpiece in the right hands. Heck, Carrey could make another appearance, this time as the titular chapeau-festooned feline. It could be a good thing, an artistic success as well as a financial one.

But when they come for A Charlie Brown Christmas, which should be soon now that Schultz has died, hopefully those rights-holders will say, "Enough."