The Muppet Christmas Carol was also the first theatrical release during The Muppets’ troubled partnership with Disney. Despite Disney’s lacklustre legacy since their full takeover of The Muppets brand in 2004, A Christmas Carol enjoys a unique place in the Muppets chronology, benefitting from that sweet House of Mouse money yet enjoying more creative control. This concoction of incredible production value from Disney alongside the imaginative and creative prowess of The Jim Henson Company was the perfect storm. As such, The Muppet Christmas Carol is a chart-topping showstopper, considered by many to be the best of all Christmas films.

In this Movie List from The Film Magazine, all of The Muppet Christmas Carol has been put under the microscope and evaluated. Having explored each individual moment to see why this particular Muppets movie has become such a special festive favourite over the last 30 years, we have compiled a list of the most fun, emotionally resonant, powerful and beloved bits, for these: the 10 Best The Muppet Christmas Carol Moments.

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10. Christmas Scat

By 1992, the technological innovation of the Jim Henson Company had come a long way since Jim himself had cut up his mother’s dressing gown to make his first sock puppet. The Muppet Christmas Carol is distinct from the previous cinematic releases of the Muppets as the direction took a bold step from camera angles akin to ‘The Sooty Show’, finally having the CG technology available to erase away pesky visible puppeteers. No more shots exclusively from the waist up! Thus, far more dynamic and exciting shots were finally achieved to truly fool us that the Muppets can inhabit our human world.

This technological innovation reaches its peak in this single scene of Bob Cratchit and Tiny Tim returning home from church whilst singing to each other. It’s hard to believe that this cute little scene was the most challenging to film, but the efforts in creating a free standing and dancing puppet will convince children that Kermit the Frog is just as real as Santa Claus.

Recommended for you: ‘The Muppet Christmas Carol’ at 30 – Review

9. One More Sleep ’til Christmas

For those who share in the tradition of watching The Muppets Christmas Carol on Christmas Eve, it is very likely due to this single song. Nothing is guaranteed to get young children as hyped and excited for Father Christmas’ imminent arrival as much Kermit the Frog does. After our first introduction to Michael Caine’s frankly terrifying Scrooge, no wonder his book-keeping staff are overjoyed by the prospect of having a day off.

This moment doesn’t just capture the excitement of the season, but also the solemnity. As Kermit sings the final notes of “One More Sleep ’til Christmas”, staring into the distance as a shooting star streaks by, a tangible melancholy fills the screen. The anxieties and hopes of the season come to a fruition for this single moment; will peace finally reign this Christmas? The whole mood is made more palpable knowing that Kermit’s performer Steve Whitmire was full of anxiety, filling his beloved mentor’s boots in the first feature film since his passing. Kermit’s pensive moment is as if a reassurance that Henson’s legacy is in safe hands.

Considering these other films, it becomes immediately obvious why The Wicker Man enjoys such continued high acclaim: because it’s unique. The Wicker Man is an innovation of the sub-genre of Folk Horror in which fear is derived from our shared past and humanity’s relationship with its surroundings. The Wicker Man is a trailblazer that has been blessed with the highest form of praise, mimicry. It has been subjected to being cheaply knocked off by the 2006 remake starring Nicolas Cage, imitated by the likes of The Village, and paid homage to by recent critically acclaimed horror Midsommar.

The story of devout Christian, Sergeant Howie (Edward Woodward), investigating the reported disappearance of a young girl (Gerry Cowper) on the wildly liberal and pagan Summerisle off the West Coast of Scotland is not just unique but remains chilling. The Wicker Man‘s lack of jump scares and tense atmosphere indicate that the film was a genuine attempt at creating art and not just a quick cash grab, relying on crude methods to illicit shock and controversy. The production’s intellectual and artistic approach to the story of The Wicker Man means its themes not only remain compelling but prove to be relevant to the modern day.

In this Movie List by The Film Magazine, we are bringing attention to the moments in The Wicker Man that best highlight why Robin Hardy’s masterpiece remains the best of both folk horror and British horror.

Follow @thefilmagazine on X (Twitter).

10. The Landlord’s Daughter

As Sargent Howie walks through the door of The Green Man pub, he is clearly disappointed that a routine investigation has transformed into an overnight stay, but he is not yet too perturbed. So far he has found the residents of Summerisle aloof and evasive, particularly over the subject of the whereabouts of Rowan Morrison; but it is what is to be expected from an isolated community and from those involved in possible foul play. It is only after Howie’s introduction to Willow, the daughter of The Green Man’s landlord, that the bizarre nature of Summerisle’s community is revealed as the patrons at the bar all burst into song:

“Much has been said of the strumpets of yore,
Of wenches and bawdy house queens by the score,
But I sing of a baggage that we all adore,
The landlord’s daughter.”

This tribute to both Willow’s beauty and sexual prowess not only reveals the extraordinary sexual liberation of the island but also Howie’s own prudish nature, effectively establishing Howie’s antagonism towards Summerisle’s society. The folk element of the song differentiates The Wicker Man from other horror musicals, creating a tangible relationship with the past and with nature, akin to the storytelling of other world cultures. It is a hint of what is to come, a primordial stirring within our blood.

9. Crying by the Gravestone

Overwhelmed and disgusted by The Green Man’s saucy rendition of “The Landlord’s daughter”, Howie steps outside to take in the fresh air. In the shimmers of the pale moonlight the presence of dozens of couples on the Village Green is revealed, all in the throes of making love. Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

It could be expected that this display of mass public indecency will have lost some of its shock value against contemporary progressive values, but the slow motion reveal with distorted audio is almost chilling (and sensual). The power of the scene can be summarised by the single shot of a naked weeping woman embracing a gravestone. The ultimate gothic aesthetic.

Similar to “Wuthering Heights”, in which Heathcliff desecrates the grave of Cathy to kiss her corpse, The Wicker Man combines horror with eroticism, humanity with the Earth. The Wicker Man was ahead of its time back in 1973 and is still pushing the envelope fifty years on.

Recommended for you: 10 Perfect Horror Movie Double Bills

The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993)
Director: Henry Selick
Screenwriter: Caroline Thompson
Starring: Danny Elfman, Chris Sarandon, Catherine O’Hara, William Hickey, Glenn Shadix, Paul Reubens, Ken Page, Edward Ivory

If a single word can be used to describe “Tim Burton’s” The Nightmare Before Christmas, it would be “alternative”. Released two years before Pixar’s Toy Story, it was Disney’s first feature-length animated film to not be produced in the traditional animation style, though Disney initially had the film released under their sister company Touchstone Pictures as they thought the film to be too frightening for young children. In the past three decades, The Nightmare Before Christmas has become the alternative watch at Christmas for those of a spookier disposition, whilst at Halloween it has been the perfect choice for those who can’t stomach hardcore horrors. Lead character Jack Skellington has become the unofficial mascot of alternative goth/emo kids, with Jack’s spooky face peering out of all manner of black clothes, rucksacks, mugs, etc. – how convenient of Disney to end Nightmare‘s banishment once they realised how much money they could make from it through merchandise.

The Nightmare Before Christmas started as a poem by Tim Burton (inspired by a department store’s hasty changing of the Halloween decorations to Christmas ones), which he pitched to Disney whilst he was working for them as an animator in the 1980s. It was quickly rejected by them, though they soon changed their tune after he left and directed the successful blockbuster Batman (1989). After the adaptation of the original poem by Michael McDowell, Caroline Thompson fleshed out the bare bones story into something of an almost mythological quality.

The brief prologue informs us that we are going to learn where holidays come from, before we are taken through a door with a pumpkin on it. Jack Skellington is the king of the pumpkin patch and is the figurehead of Halloweentown, the place responsible for carrying out Halloween celebrations in the human world. After another massively successful Halloween, Jack is showered with praise but he is left feeling empty. Achieving everything he can through his frightening prowess, he is left wishing to do more as he takes a solemn walk through the woods. After wandering all night, he comes across the other holiday doors, and after one catches his eye he tumbles headfirst into the bright and snowy world of Christmastown.

Completely enamoured with all of the sights and sounds of Christmas, he can’t help but to desperately try and understand more about the Christmas Holiday. However, Jack’s natural spookiness means he struggles to grasp the true nature of Christmas; in this quest to understand this new fantasy, Jack decides that Halloweentown should take over the Christmas celebrations this year, turning the season into a wholly horrifying and macabre affair.

It is still greatly debated whether The Nightmare Before Christmas is truly Tim Burton’s. He is credited as producer and the author of the original idea, but it was very much Henry Selick in the director’s chair and Caroline Thompson behind the typewriter. He was not a constant presence in the animation house, only popping into the San Francisco studios a few times a year. His original poem only outlined three characters in the film (Jack, Zero and Santa Claus), whilst it was McDowell’s and Thompson’s writing, alongside the creativity of the animators, that produced the bulk of the monsters and ghouls that inhabit Halloweentown. Burton’s influence and supervision is, however, evident within the gothic artistic style directly inspired by his original sketches, which is comparable to his other animated works such as Corpse Bride and Frankenweenie. He also very much had the final word when it came to the script – after he was told the original intended ending, he hated it so much he had to leave the room to kick a hole in the wall.

The most important influence Tim Burton had on The Nightmare Before Christmas was leaving Danny Elfman in charge of its music. Writing most of the principle songs before the script was finalised using the brief story points of Burton’s poem, Elfman stacked 10 distinct songs into the 76-minute runtime, transforming the movie into a veritable opera. Through Elfman’s musical prowess and emotional intelligence, a great deal of heart was put into the songwriting process, with Elfman confessing that he strongly empathised with Jack’s character. Being a member of the band Oingo Boingo, Elfman achieved massive success but was beginning to feel fatigued and was feeling the temptation of a change in work. Using this self-reflection and his own vocal talent (after asking Burton for Jack’s role), Elfman’s musical direction transformed The Nightmare Before Christmas from something akin to a Halloween TV Special into high art.

The exquisite quality of the music accentuates the other highlights of the production, and as the film behaves like an opera, most of the crucial plot points and characterisation are contained within it. Fan favourites “This is Halloween” and “What’s This” draw attention to the creativity of the art design of the different holiday locations: Christmastown is straight out of Dr Seuss whilst Halloweentown is an homage to the greats of German Expressionism, filled with the most delightfully gruesome inhabitants.

The operatic style of the storytelling is what makes Nightmare a modern fairy tale. The story is extremely economical with initially little motivation given for the characters’ moods and actions: Jack wants more than just frightening people because he says so in “Jack’s Lament”; Sally loves Jack because she sings that she does so in “Sally’s Song”. In this simplicity, they become the mythical creatures straight out of ‘tales as old as time’. Given the charm instilled by the vocalisation achieved by the cast, particularly by Catherine O’Hara as Shock and Sally, it is no wonder that after 30 years these characters are still adored. A great demonstration of the masterful orchestration of the talents of voice and animation is “Oogie Boogie’s Song”, in which Ken Page has the time of his life bringing to life one of Disney’s coolest villains with his casino-style lair being one of the most memorable in the history of stop motion animation.

In the 30 years since its release, stop motion animation has come along in leaps and bounds. It may lack the smoothness of more recent Laika releases, but such imperfections only add to a film with bags of charm. With this passage of time, it becomes more clearly evident that The Nightmare Before Christmas was a flash of lightning captured in a bottle. With the support of Tim Burton, Selick’s burgeoning aspirations, Elfman’s earnestness, and a cast of Burton favourites, The Nightmare Before Christmas remains the most perfect little Halloween treat for all to see. Jack Skellington is not just the King of the Pumpkin Patch, after 30 years he is the King of the Goths.

Score: 23/24

In truth, all these aspects have to be considered, including more abstract qualities such as themes and impact on the course of cinema and wider society. In short, the films I have included are ones that have profoundly moved me in some way. Cinema is art that has the honour of enchanting us through its enriching in both the dimensions of time and space. And art therefore shall be assessed in this list by its emotive qualities.

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10. Ben-Hur (1959)

Kicking off the list is William Wyler’s directorial crowning achievement, the second of three Hollywood adaptions of Lew Wallace’s novel: “Ben Hur: A Tale of the Christ”. This film is often considered to be the definitive religious epic, with enough sweat and sand to be the envy of all other rival sword and sandal flicks.

Indeed, no aspect of the movie falls short of this description, from the next level ham acting from Charlton Heston in the titular role to the now infamous chariot scene which boasted an 18 acre set and 15,000 extras. Each element complemented a story of immense highs and lows filled with treachery, revenge and redemption.

The film’s extremely brief depiction of Christ remains one of the most popular with a rarely bestowed Vatican approval – a faceless Christ helping the ailing Judah Ben Hur with the gentle offer of water remains spine-tingling to this day. Consequentially, MGM’s gamble paid off, with the film’s return saving the studio from bankruptcy (for when accounting for inflation it is the 13th highest-grossing film of all time). It would also earn critical and peer approval, becoming the first film to earn the legendary 11 Academy Awards including Best Picture.

Ben-Hur is now such an integral part of Western Pop Culture it is often imitated but never bested, with numerous homages and parodies from the pod race in The Phantom Menace to the hilarious “A Star is Burns” episode of ‘The Simpsons’.

9. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937)

Not only is this one of the most beautiful films to look at on this list, it is also the foundation of one of the biggest empires of the modern era.

The film project, based on The Brothers Grimm fairy tale, was nicknamed “Disney’s folly” during its production, as it was expected to flop. However, the revenue it earned was responsible for building the Disney Studios at Burbank: accounting for inflation, it remains the highest grossing-animated film of all time.

It would be difficult to argue that Snow White doesn’t deserve this accolade, considering its innovation and the sheer effort in creating the first-ever feature length animation – there are several stories of animator frustrations regarding the months of agonising labour put into sequences of cell-animation that would only last one minute on screen (the dwarves “Heigh-ho” march) or would be cut entirely.

These hand-drawn and hand painted efforts (actual rouge was used for Snow White’s rosy cheeks) were not in vain considering their legacy. The meticulous animation resulted in unforgettable characterisation, notably the Queen’s regal villainy and the charm of the dwarfs, particularly Dopey. The enormous production efforts poured into Disney’s gamble means this animation stands out as the most beautiful to this day, particularly in comparison to Disney’s Xerox era. Furthermore, Snow White was the last true animation trailblazer for decades until the advent of Computer Generated animation, meaning the success of most 2D animation productions is owed to Snow White.

Beyond animation, Snow White was a trend setter to other industry practices being one of the first movies to sell related merchandise on its release (which became another significant cornerstone of the Disney empire) alongside a released soundtrack – with Disney’s music now being just as famous as its animation.

As Snow White edges closer to its century anniversary, the film’s place on this list is validated by the fact that children around the world continue to be intrigued and enthralled by this film. Even if the Disney empire eventually collapses, the continuing popularity of Snow White means the name will still be regarded as legendary.

The Whale (2022)
Director: Darren Aronofsky
Screenwriter: Samuel D. Hunter
Starring: Brendan Fraser, Sadie Sink, Ty Simpkins, Hong Chau

Director Darren Aronofsky achieved fame and prestige when his sophomore directorial and screenwriting masterpiece Requiem for a Dream received an Oscars nomination for Actress In a Leading Role for Ellen Burstyn in 2001, and has since gained a reputation for depicting the horrors of human misery and exploring our tendencies towards self-destruction. It therefore comes as no surprise that he is found at the head of a project regarding the devastating consequences of addiction again, in 2023 Oscars contender The Whale. In addition to featuring the filmmaker’s auspicious return to the Hollywood director’s seat for the first time in more than five years, since 2017’s Mother!, this latest film’s reputation has been found to precede itself; Brendan Fraser’s six-minute standing ovation at the Venice Film Festival has now become the stuff of legend, the film hailed as Fraser’s triumphant return to the Hollywood elite.

Millions of hearts warmed at the sight of Fraser’s tearful and humble reaction to this praise, creating a huge adoring following for the already much-loved star of the Mummy franchise and a fervour surrounding his latest role. However, those familiar with the work of Aronofsky will not be tricked by the star’s heart-warming comeback story, knowing that The Whale will not be a standard weepy with a bittersweet twist. Aronofsky doesn’t shy away from the use of brutality and makes deliberate choices to create discomfort. The opening sequence itself is the metaphorical witnessing of a car crash: a sight so terrible that you can’t help but to stare in horror.

Based on the play of the same name by Samuel D. Hunter, The Whale follows a week in the life of Charlie (Brendan Fraser), a morbidly obese English Professor who does remote literature courses with his camera off, afraid of his students’ reactions at the sight of his physical appearance. The progression of the week shows Charlie’s body struggling with the consequences of his food addiction and binge-eating alongside his attempts to reconnect with his estranged daughter (Sadie Sink).

Aronofsky is regarded as an authority in the cinematic depiction of the miserable side of human existence and is not afraid to show the uncomfortable truths of it. However, some of the tropes surrounding Charlie’s obesity seem initially to be cheap titillation; sharing all the hallmarks of a typical episode of ‘My 600-lb Life’ – i.e. sequences of individuals gorging on junk food and their washing routines. There is an expectation of justification for what could be interpreted as lazy shock value; and indeed the film proves to be a frustrating watch, though it does reward the patient. The layers of Charlie’s story are meticulously pulled back to reveal a dazzling transparency, just like when a teacher reveals a life changing insight to a work of literature one couldn’t relate to.

This journey of frustration and vindication can be attributed to a combination of Brendan Fraser’s performance and Samuel D. Hunter’s storytelling. Charlie is seemingly continuously punished throughout the narrative, much to our indignation, as his charisma is instantly endearing: his few minutes of anonymised lecture suggests a pensiveness and a deep emotional intelligence. Even when in pain, his self-awareness of his appearance leads to a mindfulness so as to not try and cause distress to those not used to him. The Whale is a deep study of the fallibility of the human condition through the eyes of its central character, and the inevitable suffering caused by the seemingly innocent pursuit of happiness.

The faithful adaption of the play means that most of the film’s runtime takes place within the confines of his house and we are effectively flies on the wall. The limitations of his condition are tangible. The defensiveness of Charlie’s character arises from the omniscient view of his life – seeing more than his friends and family, such as the private moments of frustration arising from his eating disorder, but also his grief and guilt. The powerful empathy that is experienced is attributed to the fact that the screenplay of The Whale is semi-autobiographical: Samuel D. Hunter has struggled with a binge eating disorder (BED). Thus, anyone who has dealt with similar issues to Charlie (eventually inevitably), including but not exclusively eating disorders, addiction, grief, depression and self-loathing, can see an accurate reflection, but importantly one without condemnation. Spiteful binge-eating in response to emotional pain is relatable, which is where the distress of this story actually arises from.

Hunter’s personal and hence inexhaustible knowledge of the personal issues that Charlie faces is the narrative source of frustration within The Whale. It is not difficult to understand that Charlie’s character is more than what is happening to him – Brendan Fraser’s performance depicts Charlie as a kind man with a gentle intelligence. It is also not difficult to understand why his eating disorder has gotten out of control when Charlie is so obviously deeply hurt. Instead, there is a desperate need to understand the tragedy that has caused this pain, especially as it is the cause of why Charlie is the recipient of so much berating, disgust and even outright hatred, hence the significance of the other players in this film.

The Whale features a startlingly accurate account of the emotional fallout of loss, and this is due to its intricate and multi-faceted approach to storytelling. For example, the other people in Charlie’s life – such as his friend Liz (Hong Chau), his daughter Elle (Sadie Sink), and the missionary Thomas (Ty Simpkins) – represent Charlie’s struggle with his autonomy, with each thinking they know what’s best whilst causing additional pain via enabling his habit and through unsolicited advice. They are also the main narrative tools for the exposition of Charlie’s tragedy. Initially, the interactions of this ensemble feel clumsy and unsatisfying, the performances of Oscar nominee Hong Chau and Sadie Sink seeming particularly unnatural and stilted, but the intricacy of Hunter and Aronofsky’s storytelling is revealed when the emotional stakes are raised by the deterioration of Charlie’s condition. Here, the supporting performances are revealed to be their characters’ acts of self-preservation in the faces of their own hurt – they reveal a startling clarity of the entrenched trauma caused by the actions of those they love.

Consequently, the masterful and frugal storytelling of The Whale makes the act of watching this film – with its runtime of just under 2 hours, and its solitary major setting – feel like the in-depth account of an entire lifetime. Most disturbing is that it presents a life that seems to be slipping out of our reach: Aronofsky’s unshakeable bravery in the rawness of his actors’ performances will leave hearts racing in their chests. In The Whale, grief becomes submersive.

The impressive elements of filmmaking in The Whale (particularly its writing and central performances) are so successful because like Charlie they are most concerned with truth. Again, “frustration” is a word that comes to mind because, as the film progresses, a final understanding arises as to why those in Charlie’s life are so angry with him, but this understanding is fully reconciled with the ultimate truth of the story and of life itself: that every human needs love and forgiveness.

Score: 21/24

The Muppet Christmas Carol (1992)
Director: Brian Henson
Screenwriter: Jerry Juhl
Starring: Michael Caine, Dave Goelz, Steve Whitmire, Jerry Nelson, Frank Oz, Steven Mackintosh, Meredith Braun, Robin Weaver, Raymond Coulthard

Even on its 30th birthday there remains a melancholic touch to the opening moments of The Muppet Christmas Carol. Its immediate dedication to Muppets creator Jim Henson and fellow performer Richard Hunt (the voice behind Scooter), each of whom had died before the film’s production in the January of 1992, has grown more bittersweet over the years in lieu of Disney’s complete takeover of the Muppets franchise (even owning the rights to the word “Muppet”). In witnessing these dedications in the current era, it is difficult to not think of the words of Jim Henson’s close friend and long-time collaborator Frank Oz, who in an interview with Hadley Freeman of The Guardian in 2021, said: “The Disney deal is probably what killed Jim. It made him sick.”

Disney only gained full ownership of The Muppets in 2004, but they had pursued the frog and pig show since the late 80s: according to Oz, Jim had expressed interest in selling the company so that he could focus more on creation as opposed to running a business. However, in getting into talks with Disney’s head at the time, Michael Eisner, a Pandora’s Box of greed swung open, with Disney’s intent being to buy ‘Sesame Street’, which Henson was vehemently against. Jim Henson died suddenly in 1990, not soon after the beginning of these talks. The cause: toxic shock syndrome from a streptococcal infection.

‘Sesame Street’ remains out of Disney’s grasp to this day (though it has sadly been messed around with by the HBO and Warner Bros. merger), but Disney has indeed massively benefitted from its Muppet purchase with their massive backlog of movies, TV specials and numerous episodes of ‘The Muppet Show’ fleshing out their Disney+ streaming service library. Of course, since its purchase, Disney have helmed their own Muppet productions with one of their latest series ‘Muppets Now’ being lauded as the Muppets renaissance; but Oz in the same interview doesn’t pull his punches with regards to this latest output. The original voice behind Fozzie Bear and Miss Piggy hasn’t worked on any Muppet productions since 2007 and believes there is a stark difference between the Henson and Disney era of the Muppets:

“The soul’s not there. The soul is what makes things grow and be funny. ” 

Indeed The Muppet Christmas Carol finds itself in the middle of this claim – it is often revered as the hallmark of Muppet film productions and hasn’t been surpassed critically or in popularity since. Made in the shadow of his father’s passing, Brian Henson was the one in the director’s seat and (in accordance with Frank Oz’s claims) struggled with protecting his vision from the criticism of the Disney overseers. Thus, The Muppet Christmas Carol very much remains in the Henson era camp, and represents the importance of creativity and soul when it comes to creating truly memorable Muppets moments.

As it celebrates the big 3-0, now is the best time to examine how and why The Muppet Christmas Carol remains the perfect Muppet movie.

Charles Dickens’ 1843 novella “A Christmas Carol” is one of the most adapted works of English literature in history. It has featured prominently throughout the entirety of film and television, from the silent short films at the very beginning of Hollywood to a BBC and FX-collaborated mini-series starring Guy Pearce in 2019 and a number of feature releases in the 2020s. It truly is a timeless tale.

Recommended for you: A Christmas Carol Films Ranked

The story of a cruel and miserly money-lender’s reformation and redemption by learning the importance of kindness and generosity during yuletide – via a series of hauntings from the ghosts of Christmas’ past, present and future – has become as integral to telling the true Christmas message as the actual Nativity story. But, as Dickens’ festive tale has become so memorable that any Christmas lover could tell it as easily as describing the back of their own hand, how does one make a truly unique re-telling?

Frankly, the whole production of The Muppet Christmas Carol is nothing short of genius; the very idea of using Muppets to tell one of the greatest fables of all time is beautifully subversive. The creative team’s self-awareness of the Muppets’ association with goofy fun made the shattering of expectations of an asinine re-telling that much more brilliant. Of course, every opportunity to make a gag is taken and, despite this laugh-a-minute approach, the authenticity of the production team’s handling of the source material means The Muppet Christmas Carol certifies itself as one of the most evocative and dark film adaptions of them all. Consequentially, children are never pandered to but instead thrilled, leading them to be enthralled by re-watches as adults.

“Boy, that’s scary stuff! Should we be worried about the kids in the audience?”

“Nah, it’s all right. This is culture!”

The Muppet magic begins instantly as the opening credits present the Muppets themselves credited in the different roles (with Rizzo the Rat as Himself), alongside the correct listings of the human players, such as Michael Caine as Scrooge. This seamless blending of humans and Muppets, in not just the principle characters but also in the numerous extras, succeeds in the creation of a little world ripe to be immersed within. As such, both the zaniness of the Muppets and the seriousness of the humans are normalised, allowing for rapid but not jarring switches in tone.

The film’s MC is Gonzo the Great in the role of Charles Dickens, who is essentially the guide of the story through his narration. This is one of the key features that contributes to this adaption’s distinctiveness (and why it is also lauded as the best version); for by taking the story-teller approach there are no issues with exposition, so no awkward plot backflips are made to address key literary points. It also leads to greater authenticity, as the film is consequentially littered with direct quotes. There is no awkward out-of-time modern dialogue, just the atmospheric narration of one of England’s greatest wordsmiths.

Gonzo and Rizzo’s narration is largely responsible for the changing tone throughout the runtime, providing comic relief amongst the dark themes of the narrative. Unlike many modern children’s movies however, intense emotional moments are not ruined by unnecessary quips or sarcasm. The narrative vehicle complements sorrowful story beats, such as Gonzo comforting an upset Rizzo after witnessing a younger Scrooge lose the love of his life, and at times even completely stands back to let a heavy atmosphere breathe, such as in the sequence with the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come in which both narrators are completely absent. Conversely, their continuing shenanigans in trailing behind Scrooge during his ghostly journey helps to entertain younger viewers who may not be able to understand the main storyline, thus consolidating its universal appeal.

Gonzo and Rizzo being one of the main sources of the film’s comedy illustrates the intuitive casting of The Muppet Christmas Carol: human and Muppet. This is the first of the Muppets’ feature length movies in which the fuzzy puppets aren’t the narrative focus of the plot; the movie is more akin to ‘The Muppet Show’ in which the Muppets are the talented ensemble supporting the human guest star, and here they are used to their full potential. Many of the beloved Muppet characters have quite a short appearance (as many original puppets were necessary for the telling of this particular story), but they make their impact instantly, i.e Fozzie Bear’s simplistic optimism and Sam Eagle’s austere air (and his continuing American Patriotism even when trapped in a British novella).

Kermit the Frog has not only been the long-time straight man of the gang, but has also been the heart of most of the Muppet productions. The Muppet Christmas Carol is no exception. Here, our little green friend is cast in the role of Bob Cratchit, Ebenezer Scrooge’s underpaid clerk. If the magic of this film is to be summarised by one screen capture, it would be that of Bob Cratchit singing the last few notes of “One More Sleep ’til Christmas” whilst watching a shooting star fly past in the wintry cityscape. It is Kermit as Bob that steers the plot through its most poignant and saddest moments, soothing his family with wisdom relevant to those experiencing grief in real life.

Additionally, it is Kermit as Bob Cratchit who embodies the true meaning of Christmas through his joy. The joy of being able to spend time with his family, to share in their excitement of sharing a simple meal (but one prepared with love), and to feel pride in his children, particularly for their developing kindness and empathy. Even the usually flamboyant Miss Piggy manages to bring an understated tenderness and domesticity to her role as Emily Cratchit, pairing with Kermit in moments of sadness and the joy of family life (although she does manage to fling an insult at Scrooge’s fashion taste). And yet, the most ingenious Muppet casting of the film is Kermit’s nephew Robin as Bob Cratchit’s son, Tiny Tim.

Dickens had the unfortunate habit of making some of his main sympathetic characters absolutely detestable through their unnervingly sweet nature (looking at you “Oliver Twist”), so any depiction of Tiny Tim tends to be in danger of being utterly despicable. Luckily, when your cast is made up mostly of Muppets, nearly all of the characters have some guaranteed charisma, and quite frankly Robin as Tiny Tim is nothing short of adorable, the undisputed cutest performance of all adaptions.

Bob and Tim’s performance in the “Christmas Scat” is endearing, charming and joyful. Even when Tiny Tim leads the family in a song of “Bless Us All”, Robin’s performance avoids a sanctimonious air and is instead convincing as having a genuine love for his family and of those around him (especially as he seconds his father’s choice to name Mr Scrooge the founder of the feast). In what could have been something overly pious, unrelatable and cringe, the music and lyrics are inclusive through a non-denominational approach, with the prayerful intentions heartfelt and simple: the hopes for a happy Christmas and a happy family.

Credit must also be given to The Muppet Christmas Carol for portraying Tiny Tim as actually being sick: this lifts the adaption from clichéd disability inspiration into a fable of the injustice of poverty. Through his journey with The Ghost of Christmas Present, Scrooge is able to witness how his miserly ways and cruelty has a direct impact on the innocent people (and Muppets and creatures) around him. His wilful underpaying of his employees has threatened the health of innocent children and has potentially drastically shortened their life expectancy, and the guilt is etched all over Scrooge’s face. This represents the sincerity of this adaptation – Charles Dickens for all intents and purposes was the 19th Century equivalent of a modern-day social justice warrior who used his talents to channel his outrage over the poverty and mistreatment of the vulnerable throughout his society. In kind, The Muppet Christmas Carol makes every choice to give Dickens’ message as much impact as possible with no waste on dramatics and operatics.

The greatest shred of evidence of the production’s dedication to an authentic re-telling of Dickens’ story is the casting of Sir Michael Caine in the role of Ebenezer Scrooge. Michael Caine has admitted that he’d been dying to be a part of Muppet chaos since ‘The Muppet Show’ first aired in the 70s, which he was sadly never available to guest star on. As soon as he heard that a Muppets version of “A Christmas Carol” was in the works, he had his agent badger the production daily until he was offered an audition. He was duly offered the role that would become the most memorable to Sir Michael Caine himself, and would be the introduction to his incredible career for all generations that have been raised with this movie.

A common frustration with later Muppet features is the way human characters interact with The Muppets, often treating them as novelties or freaks, which can shatter the illusion. The same cannot be said of The Muppet Christmas Carol: Sir Michael Caine told director Brian Henson that he had the intention of acting as if he was doing a production for the Royal Shakespeare Company, which aligned precisely with what those behind the camera were reaching to achieve. A Scrooge acting as if it’s completely normal having a frog and rats work as his book-keeping staff is indeed the perfect recipe for top notch comedy. This is a key factor in the careful orchestration of this film’s tonal changes, allowing tension to be broken and giving young audiences a deeper insight into an often frightening story whilst providing them with raucously funny moments.

It is this sincere performance by Sir Michael Caine that carries most of the emotional weight of the movie and elevates Caine himself above other on-screen depictions of Scrooge. Many an actor’s version of Scrooge has been frozen into a curmudgeonly glower, particularly those offered by Albert Finney and Jim Carrey. In stark contrast, Michael Caine’s Scrooge is boasting the entire range, from cool derision to fiery rage and even a touch of gleeful sadism. Furthermore, his Scrooge lacks the initial twinkle in his eye that has often been employed in other adaptations, including Bill Murray’s and Kelsey Grammer’s; instead Caine employs the use of his iconic cold stare, the likes of which made him an unmissable movie star in violent films throughout the 70s and 80s, such as Get Carter. Michael Caine’s Scrooge is not only formidable but genuinely quite frightening, and therefore the progression of his character’s arc proves to be quite the wild ride as Caine’s performance through Scrooge’s tragedies and regrets is nothing short of incredibly moving. As Tiny Tim leads the Cratchit family in a round of “Bless Us All”, we melt as Scrooge melts; we see him fill up with guilt, regret, and even love and fondness – it’s etched all over his face. Scrooge’s redemption is not a case of us finding out what we knew all along, that Scrooge was a decent man deep down – Caine’s Scrooge is an actual transformation that had to win our sympathy through his moving experiences.

Thus it proves to be extremely frustrating that one of the most poignant scenes that provides significant backstory as to why Scrooge had become so cold is cut from the film. Meredith Braun as Scrooge’s fiancée Belle sings “When Love is Gone” when she ends her engagement with the young Scrooge as Caine looks on and shakily joins in with the last verse only to break down in tears. This scene was cut in the original theatrical release as Disney had thought it was too upsetting to younger audiences. It was subsequently included in the VHS version but was again excluded for the DVD, Blu Ray, television and streaming releases, much to the protest and dismay of those who grew up with the VHS version (especially at the news that the original master recording may have been lost, and especially as its exclusion leaves a jarring cut). Brian Henson revealed in 2020 that this version had been located and that the scene was hopefully going to be added back into later editions.

Ultimately, the cutting of this scene represents a lack of vision from Disney and supports their current reputation for preferring the least offensive and most lazy filmmaking, often coasting on the creativity of other innovators like Jim Henson, Stan Lee and George Lucas. When thoroughly examining the production choices of The Muppet Christmas Carol, it quickly becomes apparent that such powerful storytelling could never come from a boardroom, Disney or otherwise. The film’s message is not merely a reminder of being kind and generous during Christmas, it promotes the transforming power of kindness and preaches that the unfair hoarding of wealth is immoral, evil. Scrooge’s death in the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come’s vision is portrayed as brining joy to the townsfolk; the song “Marley and Marley” explicitly states Scrooge’s late partner’s greed as the cause of their damned afterlife (doomed to drag around heavy chains for all eternity). It really is a song many of us would want some of the current world leaders and public figures to sit down and listen to.

As such, the creative team behind The Muppet Christmas Carol have become a part of the rallying cry that has continued for well over a century since Dickens’ death. It is a film in defence of the vulnerable in society and denounces the greed of the super-rich. This is something that the tax dodging and anti-LGBTQ+ lobbying suits of the Walt Disney Company could never meaningfully achieve.

Score: 22/24

Recommended for you: The Muppets Movies Ranked

Descended from Italian aristocracy with a lineage that traces back to Charlemagne, even his childhood contained unbelievable encounters, including meeting the men who assassinated Rasputin. Early adulthood was mired by World War Two, in which he not only volunteered and enlisted to fight in both the Finnish and British armies, but even served as an Intelligence Officer in the British RAF – it goes without saying that some state secrets were taken to his grave and his real-life adventures served as an inspiration for a well-known literary character invented by his step-cousin Ian Fleming (James Bond).

Finally knighted in 2009, his life in itself would make a terrific plot for a movie regardless of his prolific acting career. However, like the rest of his life, this in itself is beyond remarkable.

With a career spanning across 8 decades and 286 acting roles, there isn’t another actor that could boast equal longevity and sustained popularity. He was in the game long enough to have made acquaintances with the authors whose creations he would go on to play, including Mervyn Peake and J. R. R. Tolkien, and would be a part of the major movie franchises of the 20th and 21st centuries from James Bond to Star Wars.

No other actor has had a comeback as comparably star-spangled and successful as his, hitting the big screen in the role of Saruman the White in Peter Jackson’s beloved Lord of the Rings Trilogy. He is arguably the face of British Horror and the archetypal villain. So, where can one possibly start with this truly ginormous and legendary filmography?

For those who dare tread forward, presented to you now is a guide to Christopher Lee’s most iconic roles, best performances and most beloved films, to help you truly immerse yourself in the cult of Lee. This is Where to Start with Christopher Lee.

1. Dracula / The Horror of Dracula (1958)

Christopher Lee’s film career and walk towards fame truly started off in the features produced at Bray Studios that would come to be known as Hammer Horrors. His first big break was playing The Creature in Hammer’s version of the Mary Shelley tale The Curse of Frankenstein (1957), a part he earned by his towering 6’4.5″ stature, and the fact that his agent asked for £2 less than his competitor, Bernard Bresslaw.

Lee wasn’t initially thrilled by this role, complaining to co-star (and soon to be best friend) Peter Cushing, that he had no lines; however The Curse of Frankenstein‘s box office success had single-handedly revived the horror franchise, making Hammer productions its powerhouse and Lee one of its stars.

It is not the Frankenstein franchise that rocketed Lee into stardom, however. Hammer soon tried their hand with adapting Bram Stoker’s famous novel, and it is in the role of Count Dracula that Lee earns the accolade as the undisputed face of British Horror.

For all those who ventured out at Halloween as children with white faces, glow in the dark fangs and smeared fake blood, it is an homage to Lee’s Dracula we had unwittingly made as he was the first actor to portray Dracula with red blood dripping down his chin. Of course Bela Lugosi’s turn as the Transylvanian Count is nothing short of iconic, but Lee’s performance is arguably more synonymous with the image of Dracula as he is the first one to truly bring the bloodlust and animalistic edge to the screen persona, matching that of the character described in the original novel.

Lee’s performance in his first movie of the Hammer Dracula franchise is nothing short of tremendous with regards to characterisation: the Count’s introduction is that of a unnervingly antiquated aristocrat, but of undeniable charm as he impresses an almost desperate courtesy onto his guest. All this is achieved in a mere handful of lines for after his welcoming of the ill-fated Jonathan Harker (John Van Eyssen) to his house, his next scene is the now iconic image of the red-eyed snarling Dracula, berating one of his brides, blood still staining his teeth.

Lee is mute for the rest of the film, save a few growls and grunts, but it is this beast-like predatorial version of the Count that has remained so memorable in this history of horror. It is through Lee’s facial expressions that we are convinced that Dracula is an unforgivably malignant and vile creature, and that more importantly he delights in his depravity. His eyes shine with delight as a huge grin spreads over his face when he realises he has the chance to convert his foes to vampirism; such as when the sun finally sets before Harker can stake him, and when Van Helsing (Peter Cushing) succumbs to being strangled, giving Dracula a brief chance to sink his teeth into his arch nemesis’ neck.

Dracula’s paradoxical existence of charming Count and demonic monster is best represented by his interactions with his female victims. As Lucy (Carol Marsh) and Mina (Melissa Stribling) are preyed upon, they wait for his night-time attacks with literal bated breath upon their beds in a show of unmistakable and exquisite sexual anticipation. Lee’s Dracula approaches these women like a tiger, quietly prowling forward, his focus unwavering. His pounce upon them is like an act of foreplay; with Mina he deeply inhales her scent with obvious pleasure as he drags his parted lips over her face before sinking onto the bed with her. Lee’s passion in this performance risked this scene being cut from the film altogether.

The ferocity and lust of Lee’s Dracula is seen throughout most of the Hammer Dracula series, but the suggestion to start with the first one (the so-called Horror of Dracula in the US) is because it is the first collaboration of Christopher Lee with long-time friend and fellow star Peter Cushing, in the opposing roles of Dracula and Van Helsing, and their on-screen chemistry is electric.

The two distinct actors’ friendship often bled into their on-screen roles as they made a captivating pair: their shared screen time in The Horror of Dracula is very brief but is easily the highlight of the film, as naturally it contains a patented Cushing and Lee fight scene. Being from 1958, the fight lacks the choreography of modern movies, but what the pair lack in martial arts training they make up with dedication to their roles and sheer energy. Their near clumsy grapple with each other elicits a sense of anxiety as their desperation shows that both the Count and the Vampire Hunter know that to lose means certain death.

Recommended for you: Where to Start with the Cinema of Peter Cushing

2. The Devil Rides Out (1968)

Entering prominence and international stardom through his work in the Hammer Horror movies, type-casting was an issue Lee struggled with throughout his career; his intimidating stature and baritone voice alone would have him continually pegged as the villain or monster. Although this villainous reputation would lend itself to the revival of his stardom in his twilight years, it was a more legitimate frustration earlier in his career. Hence The Devil Rides Out represents an interesting point in Lee’s filmography and the history of Hammer Horrors itself.

By 1968, Lee was undisputedly one of Hammer’s biggest stars and was regularly being poached by alternative Horror productions such as Amicus; Lee was now able to wield far more influence upon the producers than what he could 10 years prior. The Devil Rides Out came about by Lee’s suggestion for Hammer to adapt the works of the author Dennis Wheatley, whose fantasy-adventure novels would often involve the occult and black magic. The result is a film often considered to be the pinnacle of Hammer’s output and Lee’s own personal favourite Hammer Horror. No wonder really, for Lee was able to break his type-casting by playing one of the heroes, the Duc de Richleau.

The so-called Duke arrives on the scene for a planned reunion with his close friends, but suspicion is aroused when only Rex Van Ryn (Leon Greene) turns up and not their young companion, Simon Aron (Patrick Mower). A curious investigation at Simon’s house (who seems to be having a party without his friends) reveals the bombshell that Simon has taken up black magic and is about to be initiated into a Satanic cult. Despite de Richleau’s abject horror and outrage, Rex is sceptical until he witnesses and rescues Simon (and fellow postulate Tanith played by Nike Arrighi, who he conveniently falls in love with) from a Black Sabbat. The group run for sanctuary from their fellow musketeers, Richard Eaton’s (Paul Eddington’s) house, but are pursued by the devil-worshippers’ leader, Mocata (Charles Gray), furious that his initiates have been stolen from his grasp. After a failed hypnotic attempt to retrieve them, Mocata resorts to powerful black magic to assault the group and claim their souls.

Through the years of terrifying devil-focused cinema including the like of The Exorcist and The Omen, to an extent the topic of Satanism has been trivialised for audiences, resulting in the likes of ‘The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina’ and ‘Ash vs The Evil Dead’, so its definitely a curiosity to see a film that so wholeheartedly believes in the rituals portrayed within.

Lee states that the occult-themed Wheatley novels would be prefaced with the warning that black magic was real and was in fact highly dangerous: “Don’t think it doesn’t exist. And, whatever you do, don’t get involved.” Indeed a warning that impressed upon the religious Lee so much that he took it into his own personal living philosophy. In fact, the whole production team were suitably spooked by the source material – Lee’s influence over the movie continued due to the crew’s fears of doing any serious research into the portrayed witchcraft, resulting in Lee himself conducting most of the research, trawling through material in libraries to compose the spells and incantations the Duc de Richleau uses.

Christopher Lee’s hands-on approach in The Devil Rides Out results in one of his more larger than life performances, easily as memorable as his turns as a villain. Despite indulging in some unmistakeable scenery chewing (“You fool! You damn fool!”) and dialogue shamelessly used as a vehicle for needed black magic exposition, le Duc de Richleau is definitely a man you’d have on your side: knowledgeable, resourceful and authoritative, with the wisdom to protect his friends from devilish trickery and the bravery to fight off a giant tarantula. Lee’s solemn performance, fuelled by a genuine wariness of the dark forces, takes easily the most ridiculous scenes and turns them into gripping moments of horror.

“Before me, Raphael; Behind me, Gabriel.”

Although our love for Lee’s villain roles comes from a place of genuine appreciation for his talents, The Devil Rides Out is a genuinely refreshing entry into his filmography as it finally proves his diversity as an actor, flourishing within the classic Hammer mentor role. Hopefully Lee relished in the success of this film and the influence he had over it, receiving the highest praise possible for any adaption: the author, Dennis Wheatley, was incredibly happy with the movie.

3. The Wicker Man (1973)

It is undeniable that Christopher Lee owes much of his fame and success to Hammer Productions, but this association was a double-edged sword as Lee did find himself on the receiving end of type-casting, leading to a dry spell of roles alongside the eventual decline of British Horror in the 1970s. However, it is thanks to this association that Lee got a role in a film that was part of Britain’s last horror hurrah within the genre considered “folk horror”. Oddly ironic, as The Wicker Man turned out to be an almost antithesis to the normal Hammer output.

Beloved as they are, classic Hammer Horrors have undeniably aged. There is no argument about their entertainment value, but any hardcore fan may struggle to convince casual viewers that these films are serious horrors with the capability to frighten modern audiences. For most, they will be seen as previous milestones in horror history, now fondly remembered and enjoyed for their camp quality. However, the same cannot be said for The Wicker Man. Nearly five decades on this film still holds the power to make the blood run cold through its creepiness alone, and continues to be an impactful watch.

The plot of The Wicker Man is focused on Sergeant Howie (Edward Woodward), a police officer from the Scottish mainland who has come to the far-off British island of Summerisle to investigate the anonymously submitted case of a missing child. It doesn’t take long for the unease to set in during the beginning of his investigation as the odd behaviour of the islanders strays upon the outright unnerving.

The islanders flat-out deny the existence of the missing girl Rowan Morrison even though it quickly becomes obvious the girl was a citizen of the community; her own mother seems to be in on the act and even after her lies are exposed, she remains completely unfazed at her daughter’s potential peril. When Howie finds a place to stay for the night (as the answers he needs are not forthcoming), this curious behaviour accumulates as the apparent moral corruption of the entire island. As the innkeeper (Lindsay Kemp) directs his daughter, Willow (Britt Ekland), to show our hero to his room, the entire pub bursts into song paying homage to the woman’s… easiness.

“But I sing of the baggage that we all adore, the Landlord’s daughter.”

The assault upon Howie’s strict Christian sensibilities doesn’t stop there. In an attempt to quell his disgust by taking in the night air, he is met with the sight of countless couples partaking in an orgy on the village green.

50 years on, you would expect the film to have lost some of its impact: after all the struggle of sexual liberation has made leaps and bounds since the film’s release and, likewise, within this globalised and multi-cultural society the doctrines of Christianity hold less importance to many potential audiences (or are completely irrelevant to them). However, the depicted paganism in The Wicker Man not only defies logic and scientific truth, it seems to be in total rejection of human decency. The most liberal of individuals would still struggle not to be shocked by the portrayal of children being taught the veneration of the image of the human penis. Even those of the post-truth persuasion would struggle to reconcile the medieval practices to their alternative worldview, particularly the heinous concept of human sacrifice.

It is Christopher Lee’s performance as Lord Summerisle, the ultimate authority on the island, that is integral to the outrage caused by The Wicker Man, the Lord being one of the most complex villains Lee ever portrayed. He is chilling but not maniacal, one of the British nobility but utterly left-field, a pagan but also a man of science.

Lord Summerisle explains his rule over the island to Howie via the story of his grandfather: the Victorian entrepreneur brought prosperity to the previously miserable sheep-farming community by persuading the islanders to grow and harvest his newly bred varieties of fruit that could withstand the harsh Scottish climate. The initial work before the harvest was difficult, so the islanders were placated by encouraging worship to the old Gods to ensure a good harvest. The hugely successful harvest led to an enthusiastic conversion of the entire community, causing the last Christian Ministers to flee from the island. Thus, the Summerilse family line continued in the practice of paganism, leading to the enigma that is Lee’s Lord Summerisle and his clouded motivations.

The nobleman is clearly very aware that the island’s previously bountiful harvests are the result of his Grandfather’s scientific research and development (whilst possibly the rest of the island are left in the dark) and so must suspect the solution to the current failed harvest would lie in further scientific endeavour. So, does he believe in the ancient doctrines of the old gods or is this all manipulation and deception for his own personal gain? The film’s devastating climax proves he is capable of enormous manipulation and even murder, but throughout the film he is seen to be personally delighting in the island’s religious practices whilst harbouring disgust towards Christianity, readily pointing out Howie’s religious hypocrisies:

“I think I could turn and live with animals. They are so placid and self-contained. They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins.”

Thus is the enigmatic nature of Lord Summerisle that leads to much of the film’s horror. Is he a dutiful community leader doing what he must do as dictated by his hugely misguided faith to save his island from disaster, regardless of the cost? Or is he a greedy tyrant that struggles to survive through manipulation, who would easily use children and innocent men as human shields to save himself from the violent and lustful mob of his own creation, furious over their destitution? Either conclusion is truly terrifying, and it is through the sheer talent of Christopher Lee and his masterful performance that the true nature of Lord Summerisle remains a mystery.

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To conclude, The Wicker Man’s Lord Summerisle is another Christopher Lee villain that will be immortalised by the eternal praises of movie fans long into the future. A blessing or a curse, Lee’s type-casting was bestowed upon him because no one else’s villains could so effectively steal a scene (or rather a whole film) in such unmissable performances.

Playing its part in establishing the careers of megastars such as Kate Winslet, whilst also cementing the legacies of legends like Judi Dench and Billy Connolly, the BBC has made itself a go-to destination for both experienced and up-and-coming filmmakers alike, creating a home for British heritage films and popular star-driven movies alongside genre-busting pictures and art-house fare.

In this Movie List from The Film Magazine, each of the BBC’s myriad of film releases has been analysed, evaluated, compared and contrasted by three of our very best writers – Katie Doyle (KD), Sam Sewell-Peterson (SSP) and Joseph Wade (JW) – to establish in release order which BBC Film releases are must-watch, in this list of 100 Unmissable BBC Films.

Follow @thefilmagazine on Twitter.

1. Truly Madly Deeply (1990)

Director: Anthony Minghella
Starring: Alan Rickman, Juliet Stevenson, Bill Paterson, Jenny Howe

Anthony Minghella’s magical realist tale of love, grief and afterlife starring Juliet Stevenson and Alan Rickman is frequently heartbreaking but also extremely warm and funny, particularly in the scenes where Rickman’s departed Jamie brings his ghost friends to hang out in Nina’s flat.

The film won Mighella a BAFTA for Best Original Screenplay and Rickman and Stevenson won Best Actor and Actress respectively at both the Evening Standard British Film Awards and the London Film Critics’ Circle. (SSP)

2. Jude (1996)

Director: Michael Winterbottom
Starring: Kate Winslet, Christopher Eccleston, Rachel Griffiths, David Tennant, June Whitfield, James Nesbitt

Directed by Michael Winterbottom, the would-be director of classic football movie Goal! The Dream Begins and a slew of British comedies such as The Trip and Greed, 1996’s Jude has a stellar cast of young talent that would go on to dominate Hollywood.

Starring a 20-year-old Kate Winslet in a pre-Titanic lead performance that would hint at the powerhouse actress she would become, and one of British film’s most talented leading men Christopher Eccleston, this adaptation of Thomas Hardy’s “Jude the Obscure” is an anti-establishment albeit bleak depiction of classist Britain and the restrictions facing those born on the bottom rungs of the class ladder. (JW)

3. Small Faces (1996)

Director: Gillies MacKinnon
Starring: Joseph McFadden, Kevin McKidd, Iain Robertson, Laura Fraser, Steven Duffy

A tale of three brothers that looks back on the typical life of underprivileged teenage boys growing up in 1960s Glasgow and all of its harrowing realities, Gillies MacKinnon’s Small Faces follows mischievous thirteen-year-old Lex Maclean (Iain Robertson), who is pulled into a gang war after accidentally shooting the leader of his older brother’s rival gang with an air gun. Thus follows the frank depiction of the vicious circle of gang violence as the most innocent lives are warped by the most despicable acts.

There is no mistaking the film’s condemnation of gang culture, but MacKinnon’s work also illustrates the seductive powers of violence via brutal yet captivating action scenes including a spine-tingling showdown at a local ice-skating rink. Small Faces was awarded Best New British Film at the Edinburgh International Film Festival in 1995. (KD)

4. I Went Down (1997)

Director: Paddy Breathnach
Starring: Brendan Gleeson, Peter McDonald, Antoine Byrne, Peter Caffrey, David Wilmot, Tony Doyle

Conceived by Colin McPherson (whose writing credits now include the Disney production Artemis Fowl), I Went Down is a proud and charmingly refreshing entry into the almost consistently dour Irish filmography.

After upsetting a local gangster, ex-con Git Haynes (Peter McDonald) becomes obligated to go on a bounty hunt with a fellow, yet much older and more bombastic ex-con played by Brendan Gleeson. What starts out as simple debt collection becomes a convoluted affair as Git grows a conscience at the realisation of the nefarious fate that awaits their annoyingly chatty hostage, Frank Grogan (Peter Caffrey).

Immensely popular back in its home country, the film swept over the Irish Film and Television Awards, winning Best Screenplay and Best Craft Contribution, as well as receiving nominations for Best Feature Film and Best Actor in a Male Role for Brendan Gleeson, who was well on his way to international stardom. (KD)

5. Billy Elliot (2000)

Director: Stephen Daldry
Starring: Jamie Bell, Julie Walters, Gary Lewis, Jamie Draven, Stuart Wells, Jean Heywood

A young boy is caught in the crossfire of the violent 1984 clashes of the Miners’ Strike in County Durham in this unashamed kitchen sink drama which earned itself Best British Film at the 2001 BAFTA Film Awards. Directed by Stephen Daldry (The Reader, 2008), the film casts a scathing look at the Thatcher Years, readily depicting the brutal impacts of the Conservative government’s battle with the workers unions, which include the destruction of communities and livelihoods, and worst of all the crushing of the creativity and self-expression of a generation of children.

Jamie Bell’s powerful debut performance earned him a BAFTA for Actor in a Leading Role, while his co-star Julie Walters earned a BAFTA for Actress in a Supporting Role as Billy’s dance teacher. (KD)

Billy Elliot Review

6. Shadow of the Vampire (2000)

Director: E. Elias Merhige
Starring: Willem Dafoe, John Malkovich, Cary Elwes, Udo Kier, Eddie Izzard, Catherine McCormack

The making of FW Murnau’s Nosferatu, stories about the inception of which is already fascinating to cinephiles, is used as the jumping off point for this thoroughly entertaining silent film-riffing horror movie that presupposes Max Schrek (played here by an Oscar-nominated Willem Dafoe) really was a vampire who had Murnau (John Malkovich) under his spell.

Shadow of the Vampire might have missed out on major awards success but was recognised at the Saturn Awards and the Independent Spirit Awards. (SSP)

Recommended for you: 10 Best Movie Vampires

7. Wonder Boys (2000)

Director: Curtis Hanson
Starring: Tobey Maguire, Michael Douglas, Robert Downey Jr., Frances McDormand, Katie Holmes, Richard Knox, Michael Cavadias, Alan Tudyk, Rip Torn, Jane Adams

The cast of this turn of the century adaptation of Michael Chambon’s mid-90s novel of the same name have a combined 5 Oscar wins and a further 5 Oscar nominations to their name, with at-the-time rising star Tobey Maguire (the would-be Spider-Man) leading the cast alongside legend Michael Douglas.

Wonder Boys itself would be nominated for Best Screenplay at both the BAFTAs and Oscars, while Michael Douglas would receive a nomination at the BAFTAs for Actor in a Leading Role and Bob Dylan would win an Oscar for Original Song for “Things Have Changed”.

Dubbed by Roger Ebert as “the most accurate movie about campus life that I can remember”, this darkly tinted tale proved a funny and touching story that the stellar cast only enhanced at every opportunity. (JW)

8. Iris (2001)

Director: Richard Eyre
Starring: Jim Broadbent, Judi Dench, Kate Winslet, Hugh Bonneville, Penelope Wilton

A true actor’s movie, 2001 BBC Films release Iris is an exceptional example of some career-high work from talented, generational talent. Judi Dench (as the titular Iris) is at arguably her very best in this Oscar-nominated, BAFTA-winning lead role, while Jim Broadbent (as her husband John) transforms for his only Oscar-winning performance.

Telling of the less-than-frequent experiences of old age, and in this case the often devastating battles people have with Alzheimer’s, this tale of love, grief and life long respect and passion is among the BBC’s most timeless and unmissable films; a deserving six-time BAFTA nominee and three-time Oscar nominee. (JW)

9. I Capture the Castle (2003)

Director: Tim Fywell
Starring: Ramola Garai, Henry Cavill, Rose Byrne, Bill Nighy, Henry Thomas, Tara Fitzgerald, Sinéad Moira Cusack

One of the BBC’s many examples of film releases filled to the brim with ensembles of rising stars, this 1930s-set romance about a young girl (Ramola Garai) navigating her eccentric castle-dwelling family, as well as love and flirtation with a young Henry Cavill, is the kind of empowering movie a teenage girl would attach themselves to in opposition to the Hollywood machine’s less-than-stellar stereotypes, a well-written if a little dreamy feature. (JW)

10. The Mother (2003)

Director: Roger Michell
Starring: Anne Reid, Daniel Craig, Anna Wilson-Jones, Peter Vaughan, Steven Mackintosh, Cathryn Bradshaw

From My Beautiful Laundrette writer Hanif Kureishi and Notting Hill director Roger Michell, The Mother is an alluring and provocative drama about a widow’s sexual affair with a man half her age; one that explores issues of womanhood, motherhood, empowerment, and learning the difference between living and being alive.

Starring television veteran Anne Reid in one of her most powerful performances, and would-be James Bond Daniel Craig, this drama unfolds in at times shocking fashion, yet its wholehearted Britishness never ceases. (JW)

Back in 2002, Spider-Man earned the reputation of a “living comic book”, unmatched by its comic book rivals at the time. Whilst Sam Raimi did lean towards campiness and exaggeration in his trilogy, the film was made with such a deftness of touch that it avoided guilty-pleasure status and instead earned plenty of critical praise and box office dollars, becoming a cultural touchstone in the process.

In examining the career of Sam Raimi you can see how much his background helped this trilogy to succeed. Starting literally from the bottom, making Super 8 home-movies with friends from high school and then being thrust into prominence when his feature-length directorial debut The Evil Dead (1981) became a sleeper hit, Raimi has progressed from independent to blockbuster over the course of his career. His beloved horror output echoes the appeal and traits seen in his Spider-Man trilogy, illustrating his flair for melding comedy and drama, the use of light-hearted beats to underline moments of terror and suspense, and his use of insane moments of extravagance to make his movies truly unforgettable.

In this Movie List from The Film Magazine we are looking back at Sam Raimi’s influential work on the original live-action Spider-Man trilogy to celebrate the unforgettable quality these films offered, choosing ten moments that best represent why this trilogy has reached immortal status. These are the 10 Best Moments from Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man Trilogy, chosen in terms of artistry, their significance to the trilogy, and their influence on the superhero genre as a whole.

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10. Emo Peter Parker

There is a lot of hate heaped onto the front doorstep of the third movie of the Raimi Spider-Man Trilogy. And, as fans will attest, it is largely unwarranted. Even though many of Spider-Man 3′s flaws were mostly due to interference from Sony as opposed to Raimi’s actual vision, some fans still attempt to illustrate everything wrong with this film through pointing directly at the “Emo Peter” sequence. But that’s missing the point…

The sight of venom-corrupted Peter Parker strutting down the street shooting finger guns and rolling his hips is one of the most memorable scenes in the whole trilogy. The impact of Sam Raimi and Tobey Maguire on the Spider-Man mythos (and even Marvel itself) is forever immortalised by “Bully Maguire” memes, for better or for worse.

Not only is there a hidden depth and nuance to this unfairly scorned scene – it working to illustrate the inherent quality of Peter’s goodness (as an emo haircut and a “Travolta, Saturday Night Fever” walk is his idea of a “bad boy persona”) – it’s a showcase of Raimi’s inventiveness and sense of humour, which has garnered him the adoration of fans over the years. Let’s be honest, many of the haters are those who first watched this scene as a self-conscious teenager whose enormous second hand embarrassment was a projection of their own insecurities. Relevant advice to such individuals is: grow up, sit back and have a laugh. A bit of cringe never hurt anyone.

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9. Peter Fights Flash

The original Spider-Man Trilogy’s continuing moreish quality is in large part due to Tobey Maguire’s depiction of Peter Parker: he seemingly held no fear in depicting Peter as a hapless and nerdy loser, and this hasn’t quite been matched in successive adaptations.

Peter’s character is largely shaped by the relentless bullying he has undoubtedly suffered all through High School; acts that have destroyed his confidence and halted him from expressing himself. Combined with his natural goodness and teenage angst, Peter is cinema’s most sympathetic superhero, making the journey of the discovery of his powers all that more satisfying.

Peter’s fight with Flash is a near masterclass in comedy timing with Peter’s out of control web slinging throwing school dinner all over nasty school bully Flash Thompson (Joe Manganiello). Peter dodging Flash’s slow motion punches with huge bewilderment pasted all over his face is an iconic moment of superhero pop culture. And yet it’s a moment that provides more than simple laughs, it also offers awe and spectacle the likes of which we have since come to expect from the superhero genre.

Peter backflips over six feet into the air and promptly horse kicks Flash across the corridor. Raimi’s choice to use comedy as to a tool to distract and therefore maximise the impact of Peter’s powers is masterful, plus it’s really satisfying to see meek and mild Peter Parker knock out the obnoxious school bully as the first step on his journey to herodom.

It’s a Wonderful Life (1946)
Director: Frank Capra
Screenwriters: Frances Goodrich, Albert Hackett, Frank Capra
Starring: James Stewart, Donna Reed, Lionel Barrymore, Thomas Mitchell, Henry Travers

Despite it bombing and falling short of its budget in its initial box office run in 1946, It’s a Wonderful Life has slowly and surely grown in popularity over the years. Mostly thanks to television syndication (through which it was annually broadcast at every yuletide), Frank Capra’s financial disaster has morphed into sell-out re-releases in cinemas across the globe. On this, its 75th birthday, It’s a Wonderful Life can enjoy its status as the favourite Christmas film of many a generation.

As the first production of the short-lived Liberty Films, a company formed by director Frank Capra, William Wyler and George Stevens, It’s a Wonderful Life was intended to be a film of conscience to soothe the traumatised masses in the immediate aftermath of the Second World War. Yet strangely its relevance hasn’t waned. In fact, adoration for this film is probably at an all time high…

For its youngest audiences, the portrayed lives of George Bailey (James Stewart) and Mary Hatch (Donna Reed) are parallel to those of their Great Grandparents (or even Great Great Grandparents), but surprisingly no element of relatability has been lost. Film is an art form, and like all great works of art, it should be an effective snapshot of the time it was created in. It’s a Wonderful Life provides an insight into the lives of these very relatives, giving a deeper understanding and appreciation of these people we may have never met but to whom we owe our very existences. The film’s continuing and growing popularity can also be attributed to its sincerity and earnestness: this isn’t only a story true to the spirit of Christmas but a film with a philosophy and message that has managed to resonate throughout the decades.

The urban myth surrounding the origins of It’s a Wonderful Life is that inspiration for the story came from a greetings card. In reality, Philip Van Doren Stern failed to get a publisher for his short story “The Greatest Gift”, so instead printed it onto Christmas cards to give to friends and family. This method of distribution eventually turned the relevant heads in Hollywood and the rights were bought by RKO. It passed through several hands and endured several rewrites resulting in a very different story to what was eventually produced, such as the starring role almost going to Cary Grant. It eventually landed in the lap of Frank Capra to become the auspicious return to Hollywood for both Capra and the film’s star, James Stewart, both of whom had dedicated themselves to the war effort, directing documentaries and training videos and serving in the US Army respectively.

It’s a Wonderful Life has become such a famous part of Hollywood’s Golden Era, its plot is familiar even to those who have never seen it. The story revolves around the character George Bailey (James Stewart) who lives in the fictional town of Bedford Falls in Upstate New York. Like millions of others, George is a typical member of the middle classes of the early 20th century in small-town America, but through the revelation of his life-story it is shown that George Bailey is anything but typical. George grew up with fierce and grand ambitions but instead of exploring the world as he had always dreamed of, he unwittingly found himself chained to a desk at a penny-counting job he hates at his late father’s Bailey Bros. Building and Loan company. This turn of events cannot be fully attributed to random unforeseen circumstances such as his father’s sudden death or falling in love with his childhood sweetheart, but instead through selflessness and moments of moral courage taken by George himself. The Bailey Building and Loan is not just a small time building society: it is the single institute that stands between Bedford Falls and the inexhaustible greedy machinations of local Millionaire, Henry F. Potter (Lionel Barrymore), and George knows this. The building society created by his father and uncle has allowed for the working class of Bedford Falls to be able to buy their own homes and escape the extortionate privately rented slums owned by Potter. And, with no one else competent enough to keep the family business going, George knows his abandonment of the company would effectively be throwing these same working masses to the wolves. He knows that Potter wouldn’t mind seeing these same people starve on the streets.

Despite having to extinguish the burning desire to stretch his wings and fly, life still isn’t too horrid for George as he lives within the warm arms of a caring community and loving family, with his wife Mary at the heart of it. This simple life marked by George’s altruism eventually takes its toll. On the fateful Christmas Eve at the epicentre of the film’s plot, $8000 dollars from the Building and Loan’s funds is misplaced, and as the bank examiner is in town, this big hole in the books will not go amiss. As George and Uncle Billy struggle to recover the missing thousands, the consequences of this accident begin to dawn on George: bankruptcy, scandal and prison. When considering his young family, this burden becomes insurmountable, leading George to contemplate ending his own life. It is at this moment in which the answer to the town’s prayers arrives in the form of the Clarence Oddbody, bringing with him the most unforgettable moments in cinema when granting George’s wish of never being born.

Underneath its Christmassy exterior, It’s a Wonderful Life is a delightfully deceptive movie filled with illusions. Although it screams originality, the story is essentially an updated version of Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol” with ghostly apparitions and alternate realities to boot. It delves into dark themes such as poverty, death and suicide, yet it is considered family viewing and is famous for its many lighter moments.

In dissecting It’s a Wonderful Life to try to understand its outstanding popularity, one has to consider the writing and the philosophy that shines out from the film. It doesn’t take much research to find out that the writing process was chaotic. The story had passed through several hands by the time it reached Capra’s team, and apparently the husband and wife writing duo of Goodrich and Hackett did not get along well with Capra who secretly rewrote much of their script, much to their anger. Despite this deception, and the fact that this was the first and only time Capra had contributed to a script, the end result remains impressive, especially as it conveys a consistent philosophy throughout: celebrating the magnificence of ordinary life.

Before the war, Frank Capra’s most famous works were screwball comedies such as It Happened One Night (1934) and comedy-dramas including Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936) and Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939), each of which tend to share similar themes and characteristics to It’s a Wonderful Life: the mixing of whimsy with moments of sobriety, and of course the victory of the underdog over the big bad (which is usually a manifestation of the rich and powerful). Simple moments from life are taken and illuminated to reveal the little joys that can be found within our own lives. One such a moment comes in witnessing a soaked George and Mary walking home from George’s younger brother Harry’s high school graduation party where they accidentally fell into the swimming pool whilst dancing. Singing off-key in the streets, wearing nothing but stolen oversized clothed from lost and found, throwing rocks at an abandoned house, this is where George and Mary’s love begins to flower, as it has in similar moments for normal people throughout history.

What differs It’s a Wonderful Life to its pre-war counterparts is: despite its reputation as an uplifting and inspiring film, a very dark tone bleeds throughout. Even in comparison to Mr. Smith Goes to Washington in which the titular Smith is pitted against the corrupt system of the American political machine, George Bailey’s struggles against Mr Potter and indeed the evils of ordinary life feels so much more harrowing. No longer do the stakes within Capra’s movies feel as if they are there for spectacle, they instead appear to be a reflection of the horror and tragedy of reality. Capra even uses comedy to consolidate George’s pathetic circumstances, such as in the moment George realises Clarence, his supposed guardian angel, is only a second-class one.

“Well, you look about the kind of angel I’d get.”

Additionally, his expert timing is used to induce painful whiplash. George and Mary’s aforementioned wicked fun on the streets of Bedford Falls is cut drastically short as George’s family calls him home as his Father had just suffered a stroke. How true to the diametric highs and lows of real life.

Considering the time in which the film was made, it is not surprising that Capra’s work experienced such a tonal shift: Capra, alongside everyone else in the world, would have been shocked and appalled beyond belief by the atrocities that were unearthed during the war. The depiction of such exquisite despair turning into hope and joy required expertise beyond just writing – Capra’s direction drew upon all elements of production to create this masterpiece. Standing as a very expensive independent movie (notably, the set for Bedford Falls is still one of the largest film sets ever assembled with the main street being 300 yards long), it was in no small part Capra’s creativity that assembled a film that feels oddly modern.

Now a popular trope of contemporary cinema, over half of It’s a Wonderful Life is told in flashback, a fairly uncommon tactic only used by the boldest of directors of the time. Its use here gives us an all-encompassing bird’s eye (or heaven’s) view of George’s life, creating an act of deception in which a 2 hour run-time feels like a man’s entire life story. This narrative structure also ensures that we can’t help but to fall in love with George as we witness his private moments of frustration and anger, each highlighting the cost of every one of his sacrifices. Capra also indulged in the use of freeze frames before they were popularised – in that era of filmmaking, freeze-frames were used as part of a fantasy sequence, such as when time is frozen in A Matter of Life and Death (1946) as opposed to an editing technique. Capra used it as an opportunity to emphasise important details within the story, specifically through the medium of the unseen Joseph narrating George’s life to Clarence. There hasn’t been a film with narration released in the three quarters of a century since that doesn’t use the same technique.

Another first-time innovation worthy of note, especially because of its unexpected visceral power, is the snow. It’s a Wonderful Life was filmed in the summer on a sound stage, so of course the snow isn’t real.  Before 1946, falling snow seen on film was cornflakes painted white, and as one would expect the result was a lot of unwanted sound. Capra was very keen on recording the film’s sound live on set, and as such a way to make silent snow had to be found. The answer to Capra’s demand came in the shape of a mixture of foamite, soap and water being pumped through a wind machine at high pressure. Is there a more peaceful, natural silence than a winter’s night where the noise of the world is muffled by the fall of snow? The creation of this silent snow helped to heighten the emotion of what is now one of the most beloved movie scenes of all time: after wishing he was never born, George eventually wins his life back after praying for it from God; the answer to his prayer comes with the silent falling of snow that goes unnoticed to George, representing that he is now back in his own reality.

“I wanna live again. I wanna live again. Please, God, let me live again.”

Cinematic perfection.

Of course, Capra’s greatest innovation in directing It’s a Wonderful life was hewing out the performance of the movie’s stars, most notably those of Donna Reed and James Stewart. The influence of the Second World War on the pair’s performances is too vast to encapsulate within this review, and not enough credit can be given to these actors for utilising their own possibly traumatic experiences from that conflict to give such raw and truthful renderings of their characters. The pair’s chemistry with each other represented the two major emotions found in the war’s aftermath: George is the jaded cynic contemplating whether life will be the same again and Mary is the life-affirming optimist within this new found world. With this dynamic, Capra was generous in letting his actors explore their feelings. James Stewart’s return to the big screen did show a notable difference in performance: still very much the All-American Everyman, he was not quite as wide-eyed and naïve as his popular pre-war roles in the likes of Mr. Smith Goes to Washington and Destry Rides Again (1939). This more brooding appearance would eventually lead to the much darker roles he took on under Alfred Hitchcock. The actor himself had doubts about being able to perform certain scenes after his war experience, but these doubts turned out to be unfounded after reassurances from Capra who would let Stewart get his teeth stuck into a scene. By allowing the actors to run away with their own emotions, one of the most electrically charged kiss scenes was born as Stewart and Reed embrace over a fateful phone call. Critics to this day are still surprised it got through the censors.

Capra’s instincts and emotional sensitivity would especially pay off in creating It’s a Wonderful Life‘s biggest tear-jerking moment, in which George Bailey finally crumbles and resorts to prayer over a drink in a bar. Stewart reportedly became overcome with genuine emotion at invoking help from the “Divine Father” and is obviously and unabashedly crying. Capra loved it but had unfortunately filmed the whole thing on a long shot. Stewart had refused another take, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to convincingly act out that scene again, so at great cost Capra had that scene blown up. It remains transcendent to this day.

For a film that unabashedly deals in fantasy and the divine, there is oddly enough no Deus Ex Machina moment. When George returns home joyfully and triumphantly, he hasn’t had his problem’s magically fixed by Clarence. He has merely been returned to his own reality (with $8000 still missing). Furthermore, this isn’t a “be grateful with what you have” kind of story. Indeed, George has been shown the worth of his life by seeing the goodness that his generosity and integrity has brought to his community, and it is indeed these acts of goodness which save him. By helping others in need, those whom he has served have come to help him in his time of need, with it all coming to fruition in the finale as the townspeople of Bedford Falls fill the Bailey home, bringing George money but more importantly their love.

This is not an empty message. In its 75 years of existence, It’s a Wonderful Life’s truth still holds up. Despite the omnipresent darkness of the last few years, we have seen time and time again that we are capable of helping each other. People have fed the hungry, rescued those in peril, clapped for carers, looked after the sick and dying. There is always a danger that the humans that do this giving become weary as it feels like their work is all for naught, or times when it feels too difficult to fight the continuing corruption of those in power, but despite the Potters and Johnsons of this world, the wisdom of It’s a Wonderful Life still rings true.

For all those who have made sacrifices to help others in need, remember our own lives touch so many lives – you may not realise it, but the good you do has a huge and far-reaching impact, the absence of which would be keenly felt. “No man is a failure who has friends.”

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