How the Grinch Stole Christmas

ROVIN' AND RAVIN' WITH MIKE

How Ron Howard Stole a Grinch

How the Grinch Stole Christmas

This new look at How the Grinch Stole Christmas could just as well have been titled How Jim Carrey Steals a Movie. And, from the sound of things in the theater the afternoon I saw it, it seems to be about young parents trying to steal something from their childhoods for their less than impressed kids. Somehow, Ron Howard has turned Dr. Seuss's tale of the meaning of Christmas beneath the tinsel of commercialism into a heavy-handed psycho-drama about an ugly duckling who grows up to be a green old buzzard until--oh, well, let's not give anything away, despite the holiday spirit.

There are two main problems here. One is also the film's main strength: its almost invisible star, Jim Carrey. When a director can keep him on task, Jim Carrey is very, very good (The Truman Show, which was for him what Dead Poet's Society--also directed by Peter Weir--was for Robin Williams). When he's very, very bad, he's Adam Sandler (Dumb and Dumber). Carrey, of course, has had at least three films in which he has had more than one characterization (The Mask, Man in the Moon and Me, Myself, and Irene) to keep him busy enough for the directors to get around to making a film.

Here in Who-ville, all the stops are out, anything goes, full speed ahead, and yes, things end up as tiresome as a string of clichés. Maybe there just isn't enough to Seuss's little tale to sustain enough scenery for Carrey to chew. Carrey seems to know this. I've seen him in interviews on television in which he seems to be playing a role. Here, he seems to be standing outside the role (especially in the more ludicrous moments of psychobabble) to wink and send a little telepathic message, "Hey, doncha think I'm cute here?" Ironically, the whole enterprise ends up looking so expensive but cheesy, like a Christmas display in a mall, that it undercuts the good Doctor's original message.

The other main problem is the padding, the expansion of the liberal goodie-goodie subtext that runs through even the most manic moments of Seussery. It's said that at the end of Jean Cocteau's Beauty and the Beast (1946), when the big old hairy Beast turns into a pretty boy (who nowadays might be dancing in one of Madonna's chorus lines), Greta Garbo spoke up and said "Give me back my beautiful beast."

The beauty of the Grinch is that he is a grinch, the one and only the original mean machine. In this retelling, however, we are supposed to be lulled into believing that it's all about his pitiful childhood. Heavens, Opie, I mean, Ron (with forty listings in the Internet Movie DataBase)! As an American icon yourself, treat a fellow icon with a little more respect. Leave the unhappy childhoods to Oprah!

And give us back our beautiful grinch!

Oh, I didn't mention the songs, did I? There's a reason. Keep your feet dry, your heart full of noble thoughts, and an eye out for grinches, reformed or otherwise.