In summary, Charles Dickens hasn't failed us, we've failed Dickens, or at least his principled vision of a world where people value each other more than high salaries. The revival of A Christmas Carol is part fetish, part penance, and part heresy, managing to signify contrition even as annual productions arguably serve as a voyeuristic replacement for it. We're all so familiar with the pointed passion of Dickens' message, we go into autopilot the moment Scrooge starts bellowing from the podium. I wondered what would happen if the spirit of Charles Dickens suddenly invaded DTC's production, turned to the audience, and lectured us in ethereal tones about the cruel excesses of capitalism. Then I realized--none of us would probably notice the difference.
A Christmas Carol runs through December 28. Call 522-