Stop-Motion October: Rebecca Fisher Discusses “Corpse Bride”
by Rebecca Fisher
Introduction:
An old and macabre Jewish folktale does not seem like the most appropriate source material for a children’s film, and perhaps if the weight and eccentricity that Tim Burton’s name carries hadn’t been behind it, Corpse Bride would have never been made.
The original tale is recorded in a 17th century volume called Shivhei ha-Ari, and involves a young man on his way to his wedding. Halfway there he jokingly puts his bride’s ring on a gnarled twig poking out of the ground and recites his vows aloud to the forest. To his horror, the ground opens up before him and a dead woman emerges, wearing the ring on what he supposed was simply a twig, but which is revealed to be her bony hand. According to her, they’re now legally wed.
He flees the forest with the corpse bride in pursuit, seeking help from Rabbi Isaac Luria of Safed (a real historical figure), who discovers the truth about the dead woman: that she was murdered on the way to her own wedding and has been waiting for a husband ever since. However, Rabbi Luria’s ruling in the rabbinic court is that the unlikely couple are not married due to the fact that the dead have no claim on the living. Accepting his authority, the corpse bride returns to the grave, and the young man is free to wed his living fiancée.
It’s a fairly simplistic, albeit creepy tale, and naturally the makers of Corpse Bride do a lot in fleshing out the bare bones of the story.
Premise:
Victor van Dort is a timid and rather gormless fellow, but also a sensitive sort who likes to draw butterflies and play the piano. His wedding day is on the morrow, but far from being excited about it, he’s filled with trepidation at the thought of marrying a woman that he’s never even met.
It soon becomes apparent that it is his parents who are putting him up to this. Mr and Mrs van Dort are fish merchants and members of the nouveau riche, having organised their son’s marriage in order to boost their own social standing. Victor’s future in-laws are Lord and Lady Everglot, desperate to make a wealthy match for their daughter Victoria due to the fact that their fortunes have dwindled. A lot is riding on the success of this wedding, and as the opening song reveals: “that’s why everything, every last little thing, every single tiny microscopic little thing must go according to plan!”
Disaster strikes in about twelve seconds…
With a setup like that, things are bound to go wrong. But it’s out in the parlour, far away from the eyes of their pushy parents, that Victor and Victoria meet for the first time. And what do you know! If their matching names weren’t evidence enough, their similar demeanour and gentle manner with each other soon demonstrates that they’re perfect for each other. Feeling a little happier, the rehearsal commences…
But Victor is easily flustered, and after accidentally forgetting his lines, dropping his wedding ring, infuriating the priest and setting the bride’s mother on fire, he races to the forest in humiliation. There he begins to practice his vows, culminating in him placing the ring on a twisted root protruding from the ground. And… well, you should already know what that leads to.
Now that Victor is torn between two prospective brides, he struggles to find a viable solution to escaping his marriage to a corpse, returning to the world of the living, and fixing the mess that he’s left in his wake. Despite his yearning for Victoria, he learns over the course of the story that the corpse bride (whose name is Emily) is something of a kindred spirit. And to make matters worse, the mysterious – and presumably wealthy – Barkis Bittern has already introduced himself to Lord and Lady Everglot, revealing his own designs for their daughter…
Story:
Set in an unspecified 19th century European village, one drenched in drab monochromic shades and filled with restrictive social mores, the film makes much of the irony of the world of the dead being a lot livelier than the realm of the living. The underworld is filled with colour, music and laughter (dancing skeletons that use their bones as xylophones is a given) and Victor is caught not just between two women, but two worlds. Down amongst the vibrancy of the dead he is reunited with his family pet and freed from his responsibilities in the upper world – yet he can’t forget his rightful place among the living.
The narrative rules that surround the divide between the living and the dead are a little unclear. I was left wondering why so many of the denizens of the underworld looked like desiccated corpses when it’s demonstrated that on dying, their bodies are left on the surface. Or what Emily was actually doing lying in the ground with a single hand raised up to resemble a tree branch. Or why Victor has to go to great lengths to get back into the realm of the living to escape Emily the first time around, whilst by the end of the film all the dead inhabitants can simply walk up there with perfect ease.
Yeah, it’s best not to think about it too much, and chalk the inconsistencies down to the “whimsical horror” that permeates the entire film.
Characters:
Co-directed by Mike Johnson, Tim Burton assembles his usual team of cast and crew to infuse the film with life: Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter provide the voices for Victor and the titular Corpse Bride, and Danny Elfman once again comes on board as a composer and song-writer – with the unenviable task of providing lyrics to two different songs that fully explain the situations and backstories of the main characters.
An animator/puppeteer at work on the bride herself…
As well as that, it takes a huge team of artists and immense patience to bring the characters to life, not just the likes of Victor, Emily and Victoria, but also a number of minor characters: a hyper-competent butler, a tactless town-crier, an elderly nursemaid who is almost bent double – and that’s not even going into the colour and imaginative force behind the underworld denizens.
As charming as they are in themselves, the characters of Corpse Bride are not quite as iconic as those from The Nightmare Before Christmas. That said, there is a depth and maturity to Corpse Bride that its predecessor lacked. All three participants in the love triangle act with empathy and responsibility toward the other two, and the film continually touches on themes of sacrifice, tragedy, early death and unrequited love that inevitably leads to a rather bittersweet ending.
Conclusion:
A macabre fairy tale starring a dead woman? Only Tim Burton could toe the line between necrophilia and romance. Corpse Bride certainly isn’t for everyone, and some children that can handle The Nightmare Before Christmas might find this too scary, but it’s another strong inclusion in this month’s line-up of stop-motion animated films.
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Next Time:
Coraline Jones is not even remotely happy at the thought of moving to a new house – even if it’s a converted flat in an old pink mansion. Her friends are miles away, her parents pay no attention to her, and the neighbours are weirdoes. But perhaps there’s something of interest behind the tiny little door in the living room… Based on the book by Neil Gaiman and directed by Henry Selick, Coraline is yet another creepy and fantastical Halloween treat.
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About The Reviewer:
Rebecca Fisher is a graduate of the University of Canterbury with a Masters degree in English Literature, mainly, she claims, because she was able to get away with writing her thesis on C.S. Lewis and Philip Pullman. She is a reviewer for FantasyLiterature.com, a large website that specializes in fantasy and science-fiction novels, as well as posting reviews to Amazon.com and her own LiveJournal blog.
To read Rebecca’s detailed introduction of both herself and the series, as well as preceding Big Worlds On Small Screens reviews, click on:
One of my favorites! Dark, creepy fun. Humor and humanity with raggedy flesh-and-bones. Something Burton does so well! Glad you included this in your line-up! And Coraline — another creepy one. My kids were afraid of that for years, even as they recognised its brilliance.