For reasons that will become clear, this is a really good title, but I don't want to explain why and give it away until you watch the video. But I digress... The other day I mentioned a PBS special, Shakespeare Live!, on the 400th anniversary of Shakespeare's death. (On his birthday, in fact.) If you didn't see it, the show was wonderful. And this was one of the highlights. Though in fairness, there were a lot of them. But this was different from most. Unfortunately, the quality isn't crisp, though it's fine and suffices.
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This is pretty remarkable. And adorable. And heart-warming. And bizarre. And great. And...okay, fill in the blank. It's best to let the video speak for itself and tell the story, but even explaining it brielfly in the short version, it's stunning. Dion Leonard is an extreme marathon racer, and was participating recently in a 155-mile race across the Gobi Desert. For some reason that even he can't explain, a tiny stray dog glommed onto him. And wouldn't leave him, running alongside him...for 77 miles!! One of the main reasons the dog didn't run longer (not that 77 isn't plenty-long enough, though it's of course only half the race) is because at times the temperature got far too hot, and Leonard wouldn't let her. (In the video, he refers to it being 52-degrees, but that's Celcius. In Fahrenheit, that's 125 degrees!) That's the short-version, here's the story. And this is a follow-up -- We'll end this year's Fest with a little-known (to the degree of likely unknown here in the U.S.) song that I came across by accident, looking for a different number by the same artist which I was unable to track down. When I was a kid, I have a distinct recollection of the classical music station in Chicago, WFMT, playing the most haunting and lovely version of famous Chiristmas song performed in German by Marlene Dietrich, "Der Trommelmann." (You have some time at the moment to figure out what that is.) While searching, I came across another German holiday recording by Dietrich that was completely unknown to me, quite lovely and memorable. Since the point of the Holiday Music Fest is to find little-known songs of the seasons, we'll start with that one. Here then is "Still War die Nacht" (Still Was the Night). The other recording is of a classic and far from unknown -- but this is not only likely a recording most people likely haven't heard, but the most haunting rendition of what is generally consider a sweet, little song. In German it's "Der Trommelmann," as I said, but you'll know it as "The Little Drummer Boy." From its mood and intriguing arrangement, It should be pretty clear why I've long-remembered it. The full rendition aside, you probably won't specifically forget the "Parum-pah-pah-pums" here. As this is the first day of Hanukkah, I thought it right and proper for today to be when I bring back my annual piece about a new, beloved Hanukkah story. Okay, I'm not sure how "new" it really is anymore, now that it's been annual for a while, and I've never precisely asked widely how "beloved" it is, but in the Hanukkah spirit of miracles it just makes sense.
* Several years back, a mixed group of writer friends was discussing religion, when it veered off track a bit. "A bit" as in, someone whimsically bemoaned that Christmas got all the good colors, while Hanukkah was pretty much stuck with blue and white. I'm guessing that this wasn't the kind of debates Spinoza or Moses Maimonides ever got into. Though you never know. Another person decided to raise the holiday spirits, suggesting that since there was an actual, physical limit of primary colors in the world, and therefore nothing could be done about that at this point, perhaps instead a new fable could be created. A few days later, this second fellow and his wife came up with the Twin Dalmatians of Hanukkah, Pinkus and Mordechai. The pups scour the earth to bring hats of joy, filled with treats, to the children on the first night of Hanukkah. Pinkus, the cheerful one, would load them up with tasty goodies, while practical Mordechai with a bell on his collar would leave practical gifts, like slide-rules. The benefits of this new legend were clear to see. For one, it meant that that you could add a whole new color scheme to the Hanukkah celebration palate for displays across the land and trimmings in stores everywhere - black and white, the Dalmatian decorations! And also, Pinkus and Mordechai "pup helpers" would prance throughout shopping centers to the joy and happy laughter of those with childhood in their hearts. And of course, when you're competing with Rudolph, Frosty, the Little Drummer Boy, Scrooge, Magi, Santa, and so many more, it never hurts to have as many fables as possible to pass down through the generations. He and his wife wrote a few verses to show what he meant, and I thought an unfinished poem was no way to celebrate the season of holidays, and therefore completed it. Like all good stories of the season, this one ends with a miracle. My friend went on to create a TV series for ABC a few years later, and then another one for CBS. So, it's good to know that poetry and warm spirit in his heart (along with a touch of lunacy in their heads) had such a positive impact on his life. He also now has a reputation to protect and by his request shall remain nameless. Since 'tis the season, then 'tis appropriate to finally bring the story out of its dusty pages where it has annually passed from glowing face to glowing face of the few lucky children to hear it told, and when a few years back on the Huffington Post I presented the new fable to the world. Okay, maybe there haven't been all that many glowing faces, and maybe it's passed Hanukkah this year (man, it came so early this year!!), but it's the holiday season and time of miracles, so anything's possible. 'Twas the night before Hanukkah, And all through the shul, Not a creature was stirring, The meshpocheh was full With latkes and brisket And kugel and more. Through the heads of the kinder Spun dreidles galore. But I in my yalmulka, And she in her wig, Settled down in our beds With warm milk (but no pig). When up on the roof I heard such a bark That I yelled "Oy, gevalt" (To the goyim that's "Hark"). And I knew with a jingle, Then a second great "woof," That jolly ol' Pinkus Was up on our roof. Though t'wasn't just Pinkus, But Mordechai too, The Hanukkah Puppies-- Those Dalmatian Jews. So I sprang to my feet And quick threw on a shmotta. And I saw our kids' hats Were now filled with a lotta: With toys and candy from Pinkus And from Mordechai, socks. And for me and the Mrs. Some bagels and lox. The dogs silently worked, As if studying Torah (Though Pinkus got playful). Mordechai lit the menorah. Then straight up the chimney Pinkus leapt from the floor. Mordechai politely went out the front door. It's hard to explain The joyous nakhes I felt As I saw the Dalmatians Go to hand out more gelt. And I heard Pinkus bark, "Kids can have all they want if." "Happy Hanukkah," said Mordechai. "And to all a Good Yontif." Since tonight is the first night of Hanukkah, here's one of the few Hanukkah songs that made it into the popular lexicon. Not unfortunately to the extent that it get played on radio holiday playlists -- a shame because it's not only one of the very few, but also it's quite good -- but still it has a life. The song is "Light One Candle," written by Peter Yarrow of Peter, Paul and Mary. They performed it on a couple of their PBS specials.. This is from the second time, when they had a fairly entertaining holiday show. Every year around this time, there are articles about which recorded version of A Christmas Carol is "the best." Usually it comes down to the films that starred either Alistair Sim or Reginald Owen. But for me, as I explain every year (and did lthe last couple of years here), it's this one. It's not a movie, though, or a TV production. It's, of all things, an audio version that was done in 1960 for, I believe, the BBC. It's quite wonderful and as good an adaptation of the story as I've come across. It stars Sir Ralph Richardson as Scrooge, and Paul Scofield as Dickens, the narrator. Casts don't get much better than that. I first heard this on radio station WFMT in Chicago which has been playing this every Christmas Eve for many decades. (And still does.) Eventually, I found it on audio tape. I've listened to it annually since I was a kidling. Some years I think I won't listen to it this year, but put it on for a few minutes for tradition's sake -- but after the first sentence it sucks me in. There are four reasons why, for me, this is far and away the best version. But one reason leaps out. First, the acting is as good as it gets. Scofield is crisp and emphatic as the narrator,and almost every creak of his voice draws you in to the world, and Richardson as Scrooge is a Christmas pudding joy. Second, being radio, you aren't limited by budgets to create the Dickensian world. Your imagination fills in every lush and poverty-stricken, nook and cranny -- and ghostly spirit, aided by moody sound effects and violins. Third, the adaptation sticks closely to the Dickens tale, and Scrooge comes across more a realistic, rounded-person than as a Mythic Icon. And fourth, and most of all by far, unlike any of the other version, this includes...Dickens. While the story of A Christmas Carol is beloved, it's Dickens' writing that makes it even more vibrant than the story alone is. And that's all lost in the movie versions, even down even to the legendary opening line, "Marley was dead, to begin with." Or any of the other classic narrative lines. Or the richness of Dickens setting the mood and tone and description of the gritty and ephemeral and emotional world. All that's gone in movies, good as the productions may be. But all of that is here in this radio adaptation, and Scofield's reading of it is joyously wonderful and memorable. For many, this will be A Christmas Carol unlike any other you're aware of, giving it a meaning and richness you didn't realize was there. The ending of the tale is so much more moving and joyful here, as we listen to Dickens' own words, that begin with "Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more," and it soars from there, to perhaps my favorite passage about the new Scrooge and how good he is in the "good old world. Or any other good old world." If you have the time or inclination, do give it a listen. Ideally tonight around the fireplace while roasting chestnuts and drinking a Smoking Bishop. (Listen to the recording, it's from Dickens...) Even if only for five minutes to at least get the flavor. You might find yourself sticking around. Or just let it play in the background during the day, if you have other things to do. It runs about 55 minutes. (Side note: speaking of Dickens, if you know the original cast album of Oliver!, the actor here who plays the Ghost of Christmas Present, Willoughby Goddard, was Mr. Bumble on Broadway and in the original London production.) This might not play immediately, since it's a large file and may have to buffer first. But be patient, it's worth it. (That's Sir Ralph Richardson on the left, who plays Scrooge. And Paul Scofield must be the other one, as the narrator.)
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AuthorRobert J. Elisberg is a political commentator, screenwriter, novelist, tech writer and also some other things that I just tend to keep forgetting. Feedspot Badge of Honor
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