'Corpse Bride' mixes merriment and melancholy
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Death becomes Tim Burton. It did in "Beetlejuice" and in "Big Fish" and now in "Tim Burton's Corpse Bride" (as opposed to "Sally Field's Corpse Bride"?).
A tenderly macabre and beguilingly romantic tale of love beyond the grave vs. love above ground, the movie is rendered in stop-motion animation along the lines of Burton's earlier "The Nightmare Before Christmas." Only now, the painstaking technique, which can take eight hours for two seconds of film, has been occasionally beefed up with CGI.
Warner Brothers Pictures
B+ The verdict: A lively pop-Gothic animated tale from the fertile imgination of Tim Burton. Directors: Mike Johnson, Tim Burton
Corpse Bride slide shows On the web |
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"Corpse Bride" begins with an arranged marriage. New-money fish tycoons the Van Dorts (voiced by Tracey Ullman and Paul Whitehouse) want their wan, introverted son, Victor (Johnny Depp), to marry Victoria (Emily Watson), the winsome daughter of impoverished aristocrats, the Everglots (Albert Finney and Joanna Lumley). It's a crass cash-for-class transaction, unexpectedly turned romantic when the shy couple fall in love at first sight.
But at the rehearsal, Victor keeps flubbing his lines and flees to the nearby woods to steady himself. While practicing the vows, he inadvertently places the wedding ring on what appears to be a dead twig. In reality, it's the very dead hand of the Corpse Bride (Helena Bonham Carter), whose untimely death was caused by a treacherous fiance.
She yanks him underground to the Land of the Dead, which is a decidedly livelier and lustier place than the straitlaced Victorian world above. "Does he have a dead brother?" asks one man-hungry undead when introduced to Victor.
As envisioned by Burton and his codirector, Mike Johnson, the dead are 24-hour-party people, with dancing skeletons (led by composer Danny Elfman) and a dem-dry-bones band. A literally bodiless headwaiter with a cockroach bow tie presides over the bar. And, in a bizarre inversion of "Cinderella's" "Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo," black widow spiders stitch Victor a wedding suit.
The Corpse Bride herself is the ultimate anorexic bride; she's literally skin and bones. Her passion for Victor may be sudden, but it's real nonetheless. She jealously refers to Victoria as "Little Miss Living."
Which will Victor choose: a happily-ever-after afterlife or a bride with a pulse?
The story is based on an old Russian folk tale, but it's been fully re-imagined by Burton, Johnson and their tireless team of animators. The look is a phantasmagorical potpourri of Edward Gorey, Charles Addams, Gahan Wilson and Lemony Snicket.
True, Burton and company indulge in a few too many death puns. Reunited with the skeletal version of his childhood pooch, Victor enthusiastically orders him to roll over and play dead, then hastily apologizes. A cadaver makes a crack about how the living are just "dying to get down here." And so on. Further, even at a slight 75 minutes, the film feels slightly stretched.
Then there's the question of audience. The PG-rated "Corpse Bride" can easily pass for a children's picture; it has Broadway musical remake written all over it. Yet, at the same time, some of the images may be too disturbing for young ones. The movie is a bit betwixt and between whimsical but eerie, funny but melancholy.
That said, "Corpse Bride" truly is like nothing else at the movies these days. And its sweetly magical ending transcends such earthbound notions as market research and target audiences.
