In 1843, the celebrated British novelist, Charles Dickens, is at a low point in his career with three flops behind him and his family expenses piling up at home. Determined to recover, Dickens decides to write a Christmas story and self-publish it in less than two months.As Dickens labors writing on such short notice, his estranged father and mother come to bunk with him.
There's a somewhat contrived jauntiness to this blending of fact and fiction that may leave cynical audiences annoyed. But for those who leave their bah-humbug attitudes at home, it's a wonderfully entertaining take on a classic.
The film's lighthearted tone imagines the author as a sort of literary Forrest Gump, lucking his way into overhearing brilliant dialogue and accidentally crossing paths with people who inspire his most beloved work.
It's filled with so many theatrical flourishes and fantastical touches, one can envision this material as a work for the stage, or even an animated film.
It pushes its hero off his pedestal but delivers him -- like Tom Hulce's Mozart in Amadeus -- to a much better place, the earthy company of fellow citizens who dream of being inspired.
Just like Stevens as Dickens, The Man Who Invented Christmas is immensely likeable, and undoubtedly will having you leaving the theatre feeling more festive than when you entered.
Mainly, the fancy at the centre of The Man Who Invented Christmas provides an unusually kinetic literary biography as the writer races against the clock to master the voices of his obstreperous characters in time for the 25th.
