My Wife and My Dead Wife
~ Or ~
Married! Buried! Yeah-Yeah-Yeah-Yeah...
Sweetly sinister and delightfully dreary, this Corpse Bride lives large.
BY GREGORY WEINKAUF
The finest movie of the year has arrived, and it is Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride. Trust me on this. I’ve been reflecting
upon it with sheer delight, and I can’t wait to see it again. Yes, yes, I know: The Important and Socially Significant
Films will all crash-land in December; and But this Cool Indie rules; and Hey, you’re forgetting about Epic Franchise
Spectacular and/or Elder Star’s Return to Form and/or Arthouse Favourite. All good, all good. Don’t mean to be
presumptuous. I’m just saying that this bold, brilliant, beautiful work of art is at once otherworldly and instantly
accessible, wildly entertaining and profoundly touching, deceptively simple and satisfyingly rich. It is rare indeed to
behold this much talent elegantly packed into one production, thus, while it will require no award-validation to claim its
place as a lasting classic for any and all, Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride is a serious contender for ‘Best Picture.’ Or, at least,
in a just world, it should be. Yes, really.
Prior to this writing, I had all this critical mumbo-jumbo planned out -- cynical jokes about Hot Topic marketing
schemes; and Edward Gorey, Theodor Geisel, Arthur Rankin, Jr. and Jules Bass rising from their graves to demand their
royalty checks; and yet another recitation of The Burtonian Theme (that’d be, “Awkward and Artistic Outsider struggles
to harmonize with Oppressive Status Quo, resulting in Evolved Understanding of Conflict”) -- but that’s all blown to hell
by sheer admiration and appreciation. I live in the same stupid, ugly, violent world you do, and in the midst of it, some
wonderfully talented people just told me an exciting and gloriously enchanting story.
Behold the critic, very pleased.
However, while I’ve been avidly anticipating the arrival of this project for a couple of years, a little primer may help those
with more (or less) than fairy tales on their minds. Remember Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas? Of course
you do! Because every time a girl from a lower-income family (if, indeed, any family) flounces off the bus in front of
you, you’ll likely see an image of one of those weird characters emblazoned on her backpack or jeans, or tattooed on her
flesh. That stop-motion animated classic has touched the hearts (and bones) of millions (my talking Jack Skellington doll
still talks and cackles, twelve years later), because it digs into oogie (boogie?) themes of alienation and crises of identity,
bigotry, cross-cultural pollination, territoriality, professional oppression, romantic confusion and satisfaction, and the
essential, universal need for creative expression -- beyond rules and beyond reason. The Burtonian Theme is very strong
there (as it is in all projects Burton, from Pee-Wee to Beetlejuice to Batman -- especially the fascinating Batman Returns
-- to Edward Scissorhands to Ed Wood to James and the Giant Peach to Mars Attacks! to Sleepy Hollow to Big Fish to
this year’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory; that wretched Planet of the Apes remake being the sole clinker), and yet
here, with Corpse Bride, co-directors Mike Johnson (a big round of applause and acknowledgment!) and Burton deliver a
mesmerizing evolution of technique and storytelling prowess. Nightmare was superb, but excessively cartoony in its
characterization, a bit too garish for its own good. Corpse Bride offers up all the familiar Burton elements -- the modern-
“Gothic” swirls, the wintry wonder, the pseudo-Expressionistic flourishes, the soaring Danny Elfman choruses and
funky Danny Elfman show-tunes, the overall dreaminess that feels so good it’s almost embarrassing -- only now every
piece is beautifully balanced for an utterly dazzling experience.
Discerning Entertainment Consumers may wish to consider: For the same money, you can either purchase one lousy seat
to see "The Rolling Bones," or you can watch Corpse Bride fifty times (or twenty-five times with a date).
If you aren’t currently living in an area devastated by American bombs or American storms, you’re probably familiar
with this movie already, from its trailers and expansive ad-campaign, however I do encourage you to look away, since
most of the very best moments are actually diced up (as usual) into the trailers. See the movie “cold,” and you’ll enjoy it
best. Afterward, however, for those who still have a functional DSL box or cable modem (or electricity), I strongly
recommend the movie’s official website (http://corpsebridemovie.warnerbros.com) -- not my usual practice, but it’s
such an impressive use of resources that it deserves mention.
Our story here is simple, yet not, and quite universal in its appeal: In a gorgeously grey, Victorian European netherworld,
two pairs of hellishly unpleasant parents decide to marry off their surprisingly pleasant offspring in (foolish) hopes of
profiting from the arrangement, but when the nervous groom flubs the wedding rehearsal and flees to the dark forest to
practice, he accidentally exchanges vows with a total honey of a dead woman buried mostly in the snow, thus wreaking
havoc in said dead honey’s zany realm of the (dancing) deceased, as well as in his own land of the (marginally) living.
Major social upheaval: As below, so above. Thereafter, a great gaggle of supporting characters also have their worlds
turned upside-down, as the year’s most unique lover’s triangle (one-third rotting) sets about tilling the freshly-dug graves
of their emotions to discover exactly who belongs with whom. Not since Blithe Spirit have I so savoured a movie about
dead lovers.
And talk about talent! Whoo! Since I am afforded the opportunity to be as outrageously self-indulgent as I please (a
luxury previously limited only to editorially-coddled wussies), I simply must say, darling, that Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride
features what is pretty much my Ultimate Dream Ensemble: In the leads we’ve got wonderfully vibrant performances
from nouveau-mainstream superstars Johnny Depp and “Tim Burton’s Helena Bonham Carter,” and in supporting roles --
could this be true? -- we’ve got top-drawer thesps Joanna Lumley, Jane Horrocks, Albert Finney, Tracey Ullman,
Michael Gough and Emily Watson. Then there’s fine talent in the form of Enn Reitel, Stephen Ballantyne, Paul
Whitehouse, Deep Roy, and Danny Elfman (doing that “Devil-Emcee” thing he’s been doing ever since his brother
Richard’s cult sensation The Forbidden Zone a quarter-century ago -- only now on hyperdrive). And then -- and-and-and-
and-and then -- we’ve got Gregory’s Two Favourite Actors in the Universe: Richard E. Grant and Christopher Lee, both
in appropriately heavy roles, and both in unmistakably rich, grin-inducing voice. Oh yes, everybody mentioned appears
here only in voice, as the movie is, you know, animated -- but such fine voices have they all, and these freaky globs of
plastic actually deliver emotion as well (or better) than many human actors it has long been my pleasure and chore to
observe and appraise (right down to the silicone tears, or whatever they’re using these days).
Based on a Russian folktale (delivered to Burton by recently-deceased animator-actor-artisan Joe Ranft, to whom the film
is dedicated), Corpse Bride employs easily recognized archetypes to tell its deceptively simple story. The impending
nuptials between winsome Victor (Depp, dapper and delightful, even as a puppet) and his insta-betrothed, the virginal
Victoria (Watson), have been arranged by his crass (but wealthy) fishmonger parents the Van Dorts (Ullman and
Whitehouse) and her cash-poor aristocratic forebears the Everglots (Lumley and Finney, quite hilarious but among the
very worst potential in-laws ever conceived). While Victoria is chastised for wearing her corset loose enough to speak
without gasping, she still manages to deliver an obvious but incredibly touching sentiment: “Since I was a child, I dreamt
of my wedding day. I’ve always dreamt I would find someone I was deeply in love with, someone I could spend the rest
of my life with…Silly, isn’t it?” (Aw...) Meanwhile, although they’ve just met, Victor struggles, as men do, with the
poetry of his impending vows: “Your cup will never be empty, for I shall be your wine.” (Take that, CG ogres of the
world.) Although everyone will “get” this, and kids from pre-teens up will be very entertained by all the attending
pageantry and generous array of sight-gags (some grisly, some sweet, some both), this simply isn't your standard,
goofy, animated fare. The leads aren't even opposed to one another, so much as caught in a rather rare situation without
much precedent, emotional or legal. It’s really very forthright, very bold.
A couple of Elders also prove vital to the tale, thus we meet the booming, creepy Pastor Galswells (Christopher Lee,
Hallelujah!) -- a dubious priest; quelle surprise! -- and, a bit later, in the much more lively Land of the Dead, we
encounter Elder Gutknecht (Gough), a stooped skeleton whose magical trafficking between the worlds isn’t exactly
consistent (that Ukranian haunting spell is a doozie), but all is forgiven when he belches through the crack in his skull.
Ranking socially a bit beneath these patriarchs, we also meet the sneering Lord Barkis (Grant, playing villainy to the hilt),
whose romantic inclinations stray very far from those of his namesake in Dickens, and the jivey, scattin’ Bonejangles
(Elfman, always one millimeter away from becoming Satan), the one-eyed showman of the Underworld and helpful
narrator of The Story Thus Far. (View with care his big number, “Remains of the Day” – “When she opened her eyes,
she was dead as dust; Her jewels were missing and her life was bust” -- and you’ll glimpse in the shadows a gratifying
bit of foreshadowing.)
Our heroine, though -- she’s where it’s at. Voiced by Bonham Carter but looking remarkably like a pallid, blue version of
Burton’s ex-Significant Other, Lisa Marie (albeit with exposed bones sticking out and a gaping hole in her cheek), this
eponymous Corpse Bride is only scary a couple of times (during her introduction and some burning anger later on), and
instead proves remarkably touching -- the rag-doll waif “Sally” from Nightmare elaborated and intensified (with a tragic
backstory of which I could have enjoyed more). So many emotionally-charged impulses are channeled through this
character -- in her lust for life, her yielding to death, her clinging to Victor, her envy toward Victoria, and most of all her
guileless drive toward Beauty -- that something deep and mythic is stirred. Oh, of course, she’s a puppet, and she’s cute
as a button and a buxom babe to boot, but her essence -- the Feminine cheated out of Life -- touches upon primal and
almost overwhelming themes. In a showdown between Tori Amos and the Corpse Bride, I’d bet on the dead, tall one
(who also happens to play piano like a dream).
The creators of Corpse Bride (including screenwriters John August, Pamela Pettler and Caroline Thompson, all Burton
cronies) may or may not have been cognizant of luring a Pretentious Writer to divine Deep Meaning in their Populist
Entertainment, but they nailed it all the same. Well met! Me like! Then comes the plentiful filigree, including the splendid
supporting characters (Ballantyne as a crazy French headwaiter -- yes, the pun is duly utilised, Ullman doubling as a
humble housemaid who's nearly human), the charming grace-notes (the sweet-tempered Black Widow voiced by
Horrocks enjoys making clothes, the Town Crier voiced by Reitel crosses the auditory threshold of pain), plus the grimly
magnificent bits of business (often having to do with the Corpse Bride literally falling apart in the midst of dancing or
tickling the ivories). I dug Mayhew the coachman, the bizarre denizens of the Land of the Dead, all of it, really. Near the
end, some surprises await the living community which can only be described as glorious -- I loved it. There is,
admittedly, too much of Reitel as the Maggot, a cross between Jiminy Cricket and Peter Lorre who knows what’s on the
Corpse Bride’s mind (because he’s been sitting in it), but some may find his grotesquerie amusing.
Apart from the Maggot’s campy intrusiveness (the rest of the tale is told straight), my sole complaint involves the
romance itself -- specifically why it blossoms so outrageously quickly for the three leads, and how it eventually comes to
fruition. It works, and the tale offers a suitably moral edge, but I’m not entirely convinced that Victor’s choices will
succeed, nor that a bunch of moths at the end can match the enigmatic but beautiful butterfly at the beginning.
Speaking of which, the design of Corpse Bride from the first frame of the opening credits to the final shot of the full
moon is sumptuous beyond compare. Hats off to Alex McDowell for the inspired architecture (above and below), the
enchanted forest, the lot. And to cinematographer Pete Kozachik for bringing this stop-motion art-form into a revised
manifestation for the new millennium. An entire feature created via digital still-cameras and Final Cut Pro: Who ever
would have thought? We’ve seen a lot of these elements before, but never like this.
One could also point out the many additional similarities to prior works by this extended family, given that The Land of
the Dead in many, many ways mirrors the aforementioned Forbidden Zone (minus thrust-crazy tuxedoed frog; probably
better for business without), and that the “Wedding Song” essentially echoes “Making Christmas” from Nightmare (Why,
those zany Outsiders, always tryin’ to fit in!), but one of the most impressive aspects of Corpse Bride -- which is likely
to be ignored for a while -- is that it is general enough to perceive in it whatever connections strike your fancy. As with
the best fairy tales, it offers both a straightforward universality and an openness to interpretation. And like the best
romances, no matter how weird or complicated, it never loses sight of the simple, direct power of the heart (even one
which is no longer beating).
Quoth Bonejangles, “You don’t need much when you’re really in love.”
Indeed.
Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride
Entertainment Value: 13/13
Style: 13/13
Philosophical Insight: 11/13
-Gregory Weinkauf, 13 September, 2005
~ Or ~
Married! Buried! Yeah-Yeah-Yeah-Yeah...
Sweetly sinister and delightfully dreary, this Corpse Bride lives large.
BY GREGORY WEINKAUF
The finest movie of the year has arrived, and it is Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride. Trust me on this. I’ve been reflecting
upon it with sheer delight, and I can’t wait to see it again. Yes, yes, I know: The Important and Socially Significant
Films will all crash-land in December; and But this Cool Indie rules; and Hey, you’re forgetting about Epic Franchise
Spectacular and/or Elder Star’s Return to Form and/or Arthouse Favourite. All good, all good. Don’t mean to be
presumptuous. I’m just saying that this bold, brilliant, beautiful work of art is at once otherworldly and instantly
accessible, wildly entertaining and profoundly touching, deceptively simple and satisfyingly rich. It is rare indeed to
behold this much talent elegantly packed into one production, thus, while it will require no award-validation to claim its
place as a lasting classic for any and all, Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride is a serious contender for ‘Best Picture.’ Or, at least,
in a just world, it should be. Yes, really.
Prior to this writing, I had all this critical mumbo-jumbo planned out -- cynical jokes about Hot Topic marketing
schemes; and Edward Gorey, Theodor Geisel, Arthur Rankin, Jr. and Jules Bass rising from their graves to demand their
royalty checks; and yet another recitation of The Burtonian Theme (that’d be, “Awkward and Artistic Outsider struggles
to harmonize with Oppressive Status Quo, resulting in Evolved Understanding of Conflict”) -- but that’s all blown to hell
by sheer admiration and appreciation. I live in the same stupid, ugly, violent world you do, and in the midst of it, some
wonderfully talented people just told me an exciting and gloriously enchanting story.
Behold the critic, very pleased.
However, while I’ve been avidly anticipating the arrival of this project for a couple of years, a little primer may help those
with more (or less) than fairy tales on their minds. Remember Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas? Of course
you do! Because every time a girl from a lower-income family (if, indeed, any family) flounces off the bus in front of
you, you’ll likely see an image of one of those weird characters emblazoned on her backpack or jeans, or tattooed on her
flesh. That stop-motion animated classic has touched the hearts (and bones) of millions (my talking Jack Skellington doll
still talks and cackles, twelve years later), because it digs into oogie (boogie?) themes of alienation and crises of identity,
bigotry, cross-cultural pollination, territoriality, professional oppression, romantic confusion and satisfaction, and the
essential, universal need for creative expression -- beyond rules and beyond reason. The Burtonian Theme is very strong
there (as it is in all projects Burton, from Pee-Wee to Beetlejuice to Batman -- especially the fascinating Batman Returns
-- to Edward Scissorhands to Ed Wood to James and the Giant Peach to Mars Attacks! to Sleepy Hollow to Big Fish to
this year’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory; that wretched Planet of the Apes remake being the sole clinker), and yet
here, with Corpse Bride, co-directors Mike Johnson (a big round of applause and acknowledgment!) and Burton deliver a
mesmerizing evolution of technique and storytelling prowess. Nightmare was superb, but excessively cartoony in its
characterization, a bit too garish for its own good. Corpse Bride offers up all the familiar Burton elements -- the modern-
“Gothic” swirls, the wintry wonder, the pseudo-Expressionistic flourishes, the soaring Danny Elfman choruses and
funky Danny Elfman show-tunes, the overall dreaminess that feels so good it’s almost embarrassing -- only now every
piece is beautifully balanced for an utterly dazzling experience.
Discerning Entertainment Consumers may wish to consider: For the same money, you can either purchase one lousy seat
to see "The Rolling Bones," or you can watch Corpse Bride fifty times (or twenty-five times with a date).
If you aren’t currently living in an area devastated by American bombs or American storms, you’re probably familiar
with this movie already, from its trailers and expansive ad-campaign, however I do encourage you to look away, since
most of the very best moments are actually diced up (as usual) into the trailers. See the movie “cold,” and you’ll enjoy it
best. Afterward, however, for those who still have a functional DSL box or cable modem (or electricity), I strongly
recommend the movie’s official website (http://corpsebridemovie.warnerbros.com) -- not my usual practice, but it’s
such an impressive use of resources that it deserves mention.
Our story here is simple, yet not, and quite universal in its appeal: In a gorgeously grey, Victorian European netherworld,
two pairs of hellishly unpleasant parents decide to marry off their surprisingly pleasant offspring in (foolish) hopes of
profiting from the arrangement, but when the nervous groom flubs the wedding rehearsal and flees to the dark forest to
practice, he accidentally exchanges vows with a total honey of a dead woman buried mostly in the snow, thus wreaking
havoc in said dead honey’s zany realm of the (dancing) deceased, as well as in his own land of the (marginally) living.
Major social upheaval: As below, so above. Thereafter, a great gaggle of supporting characters also have their worlds
turned upside-down, as the year’s most unique lover’s triangle (one-third rotting) sets about tilling the freshly-dug graves
of their emotions to discover exactly who belongs with whom. Not since Blithe Spirit have I so savoured a movie about
dead lovers.
And talk about talent! Whoo! Since I am afforded the opportunity to be as outrageously self-indulgent as I please (a
luxury previously limited only to editorially-coddled wussies), I simply must say, darling, that Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride
features what is pretty much my Ultimate Dream Ensemble: In the leads we’ve got wonderfully vibrant performances
from nouveau-mainstream superstars Johnny Depp and “Tim Burton’s Helena Bonham Carter,” and in supporting roles --
could this be true? -- we’ve got top-drawer thesps Joanna Lumley, Jane Horrocks, Albert Finney, Tracey Ullman,
Michael Gough and Emily Watson. Then there’s fine talent in the form of Enn Reitel, Stephen Ballantyne, Paul
Whitehouse, Deep Roy, and Danny Elfman (doing that “Devil-Emcee” thing he’s been doing ever since his brother
Richard’s cult sensation The Forbidden Zone a quarter-century ago -- only now on hyperdrive). And then -- and-and-and-
and-and then -- we’ve got Gregory’s Two Favourite Actors in the Universe: Richard E. Grant and Christopher Lee, both
in appropriately heavy roles, and both in unmistakably rich, grin-inducing voice. Oh yes, everybody mentioned appears
here only in voice, as the movie is, you know, animated -- but such fine voices have they all, and these freaky globs of
plastic actually deliver emotion as well (or better) than many human actors it has long been my pleasure and chore to
observe and appraise (right down to the silicone tears, or whatever they’re using these days).
Based on a Russian folktale (delivered to Burton by recently-deceased animator-actor-artisan Joe Ranft, to whom the film
is dedicated), Corpse Bride employs easily recognized archetypes to tell its deceptively simple story. The impending
nuptials between winsome Victor (Depp, dapper and delightful, even as a puppet) and his insta-betrothed, the virginal
Victoria (Watson), have been arranged by his crass (but wealthy) fishmonger parents the Van Dorts (Ullman and
Whitehouse) and her cash-poor aristocratic forebears the Everglots (Lumley and Finney, quite hilarious but among the
very worst potential in-laws ever conceived). While Victoria is chastised for wearing her corset loose enough to speak
without gasping, she still manages to deliver an obvious but incredibly touching sentiment: “Since I was a child, I dreamt
of my wedding day. I’ve always dreamt I would find someone I was deeply in love with, someone I could spend the rest
of my life with…Silly, isn’t it?” (Aw...) Meanwhile, although they’ve just met, Victor struggles, as men do, with the
poetry of his impending vows: “Your cup will never be empty, for I shall be your wine.” (Take that, CG ogres of the
world.) Although everyone will “get” this, and kids from pre-teens up will be very entertained by all the attending
pageantry and generous array of sight-gags (some grisly, some sweet, some both), this simply isn't your standard,
goofy, animated fare. The leads aren't even opposed to one another, so much as caught in a rather rare situation without
much precedent, emotional or legal. It’s really very forthright, very bold.
A couple of Elders also prove vital to the tale, thus we meet the booming, creepy Pastor Galswells (Christopher Lee,
Hallelujah!) -- a dubious priest; quelle surprise! -- and, a bit later, in the much more lively Land of the Dead, we
encounter Elder Gutknecht (Gough), a stooped skeleton whose magical trafficking between the worlds isn’t exactly
consistent (that Ukranian haunting spell is a doozie), but all is forgiven when he belches through the crack in his skull.
Ranking socially a bit beneath these patriarchs, we also meet the sneering Lord Barkis (Grant, playing villainy to the hilt),
whose romantic inclinations stray very far from those of his namesake in Dickens, and the jivey, scattin’ Bonejangles
(Elfman, always one millimeter away from becoming Satan), the one-eyed showman of the Underworld and helpful
narrator of The Story Thus Far. (View with care his big number, “Remains of the Day” – “When she opened her eyes,
she was dead as dust; Her jewels were missing and her life was bust” -- and you’ll glimpse in the shadows a gratifying
bit of foreshadowing.)
Our heroine, though -- she’s where it’s at. Voiced by Bonham Carter but looking remarkably like a pallid, blue version of
Burton’s ex-Significant Other, Lisa Marie (albeit with exposed bones sticking out and a gaping hole in her cheek), this
eponymous Corpse Bride is only scary a couple of times (during her introduction and some burning anger later on), and
instead proves remarkably touching -- the rag-doll waif “Sally” from Nightmare elaborated and intensified (with a tragic
backstory of which I could have enjoyed more). So many emotionally-charged impulses are channeled through this
character -- in her lust for life, her yielding to death, her clinging to Victor, her envy toward Victoria, and most of all her
guileless drive toward Beauty -- that something deep and mythic is stirred. Oh, of course, she’s a puppet, and she’s cute
as a button and a buxom babe to boot, but her essence -- the Feminine cheated out of Life -- touches upon primal and
almost overwhelming themes. In a showdown between Tori Amos and the Corpse Bride, I’d bet on the dead, tall one
(who also happens to play piano like a dream).
The creators of Corpse Bride (including screenwriters John August, Pamela Pettler and Caroline Thompson, all Burton
cronies) may or may not have been cognizant of luring a Pretentious Writer to divine Deep Meaning in their Populist
Entertainment, but they nailed it all the same. Well met! Me like! Then comes the plentiful filigree, including the splendid
supporting characters (Ballantyne as a crazy French headwaiter -- yes, the pun is duly utilised, Ullman doubling as a
humble housemaid who's nearly human), the charming grace-notes (the sweet-tempered Black Widow voiced by
Horrocks enjoys making clothes, the Town Crier voiced by Reitel crosses the auditory threshold of pain), plus the grimly
magnificent bits of business (often having to do with the Corpse Bride literally falling apart in the midst of dancing or
tickling the ivories). I dug Mayhew the coachman, the bizarre denizens of the Land of the Dead, all of it, really. Near the
end, some surprises await the living community which can only be described as glorious -- I loved it. There is,
admittedly, too much of Reitel as the Maggot, a cross between Jiminy Cricket and Peter Lorre who knows what’s on the
Corpse Bride’s mind (because he’s been sitting in it), but some may find his grotesquerie amusing.
Apart from the Maggot’s campy intrusiveness (the rest of the tale is told straight), my sole complaint involves the
romance itself -- specifically why it blossoms so outrageously quickly for the three leads, and how it eventually comes to
fruition. It works, and the tale offers a suitably moral edge, but I’m not entirely convinced that Victor’s choices will
succeed, nor that a bunch of moths at the end can match the enigmatic but beautiful butterfly at the beginning.
Speaking of which, the design of Corpse Bride from the first frame of the opening credits to the final shot of the full
moon is sumptuous beyond compare. Hats off to Alex McDowell for the inspired architecture (above and below), the
enchanted forest, the lot. And to cinematographer Pete Kozachik for bringing this stop-motion art-form into a revised
manifestation for the new millennium. An entire feature created via digital still-cameras and Final Cut Pro: Who ever
would have thought? We’ve seen a lot of these elements before, but never like this.
One could also point out the many additional similarities to prior works by this extended family, given that The Land of
the Dead in many, many ways mirrors the aforementioned Forbidden Zone (minus thrust-crazy tuxedoed frog; probably
better for business without), and that the “Wedding Song” essentially echoes “Making Christmas” from Nightmare (Why,
those zany Outsiders, always tryin’ to fit in!), but one of the most impressive aspects of Corpse Bride -- which is likely
to be ignored for a while -- is that it is general enough to perceive in it whatever connections strike your fancy. As with
the best fairy tales, it offers both a straightforward universality and an openness to interpretation. And like the best
romances, no matter how weird or complicated, it never loses sight of the simple, direct power of the heart (even one
which is no longer beating).
Quoth Bonejangles, “You don’t need much when you’re really in love.”
Indeed.
Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride
Entertainment Value: 13/13
Style: 13/13
Philosophical Insight: 11/13
-Gregory Weinkauf, 13 September, 2005
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