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A Grave Proposal: Revisiting Tim Burton’s ‘Corpse Bride’ at 20

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Corpse Bride

From Guillermo Del Toro winning an Oscar for 2022’s Pinocchio to Wes Anderson applying his unique style to Fantastic Mr. Fox, there have been plenty of visionary live-action filmmakers who have successfully transitioned to the world of animation. The opposite isn’t quite as common, however, as the skillset developed by working with puppets and drawings doesn’t always translate to knowing how to deal with physical sets and human actors.

That’s not to say that the transition is impossible, however, and one of the most memorable stories of an animator making it big in Hollywood happens to be that of Tim Burton. This ex-Disney artist ended up using his cartooning experience to construct some of the most visually stunning projects in film history, to the point that many of his fans aren’t even aware that he first got his start in animation.

Of course, Burton never gave up on his love of the medium, and after briefly returning to the two-dimensional director’s chair with 2000’s The World of Stainboy Flash cartoon, he decided that it was time to try his luck with something a little bigger in the form of the stop-motion musical Corpse Bride. With this undead fable currently celebrating its 20th anniversary this year, I think this is the perfect moment to look back on the history of Burton’s first animated feature and why it’s still such a beloved entry in his filmography.

Corpse Bride may have been officially announced back in 2002, but the film had been in the works since 1996, when Pixar’s legendary Head of Story Joe Ranft introduced Burton to a Jewish legend dating back to the 1600s. In the original tale (which was much darker), a groom-to-be is pressured by his friends into placing his wedding ring onto a finger that they find sticking out from a shallow grave, with the woman’s re-animated corpse later causing trouble at the man’s real wedding.

Fascinated by this macabre bit of folklore, Burton would fine-tune his own version of the story over the years, turning it into more of a universal fairy tale and adding a Victorian twist. However, despite often being mistakenly credited with directing Henry Selick’s The Nightmare Before Christmas (a film that Burton merely produced due to his commitment to Batman Returns), the filmmaker was initially hesitant to take over directing duties on a feature-length stop-motion project due to the extensive time commitment required of the medium. That’s why Burton decided to partner with co-director Mike Johnson, an animator who is probably best known for directing the music video for Primus’ cover of “The Devil Went Down to Georgia.”

 

The duo came up with a system where Burton would lay the groundwork for the film’s story and visual design while leaving day-to-day animation duties and communication with the crew to Johnson. This allowed Corpse Bride to be produced simultaneously with Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, as Johnson’s input meant that Burton wasn’t constantly needed on set.

Shot between 2003 and 2005, the film had a remarkably quick turnaround for a stop-motion endeavor. This was thanks to new techniques developed specifically so that the crew could speed up production without sacrificing quality. For starters, character expressions were achieved through an intricate system of clockwork mechanisms hidden behind the puppets’ faces rather than the more traditional method of using interchangeable heads and mouths. The art department also produced about fourteen copies of the main puppets so that animators could simultaneously work on several different scenes at the same time – a process that they could only afford thanks to Burton’s rock-star status in Hollywood.

Corpse Bride was eventually released in September of 2005, with the finished film following the young Victor Van Dort (Johnny Depp) in the 1800s as he’s pressured into marrying Victoria Everglot (Emily Watson). When the couple’s marriage rehearsal goes sour, Victor flees to the local woods in order to practice his vows and ends up placing his wedding ring on what he mistakenly believes to be an old root – unintentionally marrying the deceased Emily (Helena Bonham Carter) in the process. Victor must then navigate the strange rules of the underworld in order to undo this grave misunderstanding.

Boasting a stylized cast of outsiders as well as gloomy visuals that will live on in goth Pinterest accounts until the end of time, Corpse Bride is almost a parody of what the public has come to expect from a Tim Burton film. And yet, despite the flick’s wacky musical numbers and fanciful depiction of the afterlife (which is meant to contrast with the comparatively lifeless atmosphere of Victorian England), this also happens to be one of Burton’s least cartoonish movies.

After all, once you remove the animated bells and whistles, the heart of the story is a remarkably down-to-earth relationship drama about managing societal expectations and learning to communicate with romantic partners. This grounded take on a supernatural love triangle isn’t exactly the most original love story in the world, but I really appreciate how neither Emily nor Victoria are ever villainized despite initially appearing to be rivals – and kudos to Burton for giving us a rare example of a male protagonist learning to accept (and arguably even love) a female “monster” instead of the other way around.

 

Ironically enough, the titular Corpse Bride is responsible for much of the film’s warmth. Not only does Emily’s design masterfully ride the line between genuinely unsettling zombie and beautiful goth doll, but Carter’s earnest line deliveries also manage to make the character’s naive persona endearing rather than annoying. Combine that with her surprisingly beautiful singing voice, and it’s no wonder why many fans still dress up as this tragic figure for Halloween, even a quarter century after the film’s original release.

The rest of the cast is also excellent, with bit parts by Christopher Lee and even an unrecognizable Danny Elfman helping to flesh out both halves of the movie’s universe, but it’s a shame that the flick’s musical elements aren’t quite as refined as the rest of the experience. Don’t get me wrong, “Remains of the Day” and “Tears to Shed” are absolute bangers, but they’re also the only stand-out songs in the movie. It also doesn’t help that so much time passes in between tracks that it’s easy to forget that this is supposed to be a musical.

The 77-minute runtime also means that some character beats aren’t quite as fleshed out as they should have been – especially where Richard E. Grant’s conniving Barkis is concerned. While I understand that this murderous con-artist isn’t exactly the main antagonist, with the film running on rom-com logic where most conflicts are the result of misunderstandings rather than acts of evil, it’s a shame that we don’t get more insight into what may very well be a bona fide serial killer hiding in a children’s film.

Unfortunately, the surprisingly adult subject matter and an overall focus on aesthetics over story are probably why Corpse Bride wasn’t hailed as a classic back in ’05. While the film wasn’t exactly a failure, raking in over double its production budget at the box office and accumulating numerous accolades, it makes sense that Burton would take over seven years to release another animated movie. The film also lost the coveted Best Animated Feature Oscar to 2005’s other horror-adjacent stop-motion production, Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit – a movie so good that not even Hayao Miyazaki could compete with it.

Yet, I’d argue that Corpse Bride became a success in the long run. From its impressive home video sales to its well-deserved second life on streaming services, it’s clear that the story of Victor and Emily had a spooky audience willing to engage with it – the movie just needed to find them first. That’s why I don’t feel that it’s even necessary to recommend Corpse Bride to genre fans this Halloween season, as this past quarter century has already established it as a creepy yet endearing delight and one of the most fascinating projects in Burton’s filmography.

Born Brazilian, raised Canadian, Luiz is a writer and filmmaker that spends most of his time thinking about movies.

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Editorials

Larry Cohen’s ‘It’s Alive’ Still Towers Over a 2009 Remake That Maybe Should’ve Stayed Unborn

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When I write about remakes, I often bring up the word “justification.” What’s the impetus for the remake’s existence? Reinventing icons for a new generation, or benefiting from a few decades’ worth of special effects advancements? Often, there’s a reason that you can acknowledge and say, “Alright, I see what you’re going for.” That holds in Josef Rusnak’s It’s Alive, which tries to reinvent Larry Cohen’s mutant baby B-movie of the same name in what I consider the worst possible way.

I didn’t say it had to be a GOOD reason.

I’ll start with Cohen’s own reaction to Rusnak’s 2009 update: “It’s a terrible picture. It’s just beyond awful … I would advise anybody who likes my film to cross the street and avoid seeing the new enchilada.” A blunt take, but I agree. Rusnak justifies his remake by diverting drastically from Cohen’s exploitation-y flick about a newborn monster killinPreview (opens in a new tab)g Los Angeles residents, but it’s such a bafflingly weak reimagining. Cohen remains faithful to tenets of creature features while tugging at our hearts with commentaries about parents caught between morality and adoration, whereas Rusnak asks, “What if we punished a mother for trying to have an abortion?”

As Cohen says, cross the damn street.


The Approach

Netflix It's Alive

It’s Alive (2009) is one of those women-focused horror projects that make you scoff, derogatorily, “This was written and directed by dudes, wasn’t it?” Cohen’s original screenplay isn’t airtight, yet it does well to respect Sharon Farrell‘s “shaken mother of a monster,” Lenore Davis. Paul Sopocy and James Portolese, on the other hand, pen a screenplay that reductively focuses on Lenore protecting her bitey offspring, with a bent-out-of-shape abortion subplot thrown in. That’s not to say Cohen’s Lenore doesn’t display the same protective maternal instincts, but Rusnak plays in a sandbox of lame-duck tropes, dooming Lenore for the supposed sin of a mother’s love.

Teenage party-girl turned actress Bijou Phillips stars as Lenore Harker, a New Mexico college student who quits to live with her architect boyfriend, Frank (James Murray), and raise their incoming baby. She’s ditching pizza nights and girl talk with bestie Marnie (Ty Glaser), moving into the Albuquerque woods, where Frank has a secluded homestead with brother Chris (Raphaël Coleman), who is wheelchair dependent. Lenore goes in for a pregnancy checkup, where she learns her unborn child has doubled in size, requiring a cesarean section birth. So the surgical team opens her up and extracts “Daniel,” only to be murdered by the newborn, found resting on Lenore’s stomach, taking a post-slaughter rest.

The immediate deviation is how Daniel is found nuzzling Lenore in the hospital, and doesn’t look “freakish” at first glance. Daniel comes home with Lenore and Frank, setting up the happy lil’ family dynamic. It’s no longer a conspiratorial hunt-and-hide scenario; the “home sweet hell” take on Cohen’s original. Which, frustratingly, dissolves the core suspense that Cohen achieves. For Daniel to kill, victims have to come knocking on Lenore’s door, which becomes a repetitive cycle of visitors and hidden bodies that remove any excitement and surprises.


Does It Work?

Rusnak earns points for trying something new. Remakes have historically been less willing to put unique spins on existing stories (see: Cabin Fever). But there’s also a question of retaining the essence of the source material. Why remake a movie if you’re going to spin so far from the original that you don’t even need to use the title? It’s the Child’s Play of it all. If you wanted to make a killer AI toy movie, why use the Child’s Play legacy to do so (outside of market familiarity)?

It’s Alive doesn’t fully abandon Cohen’s ideas, but it does feel thinner than expected. There have been plenty of killer baby movies since It’s Alive—Cohen hardly has the concept trademarked. What’s fun about Cohen’s It’s Alive is how Frank chases his mutant kin around Los Angeles, eventually into the sewer system, culminating in the Los Angeles (drained) river. Rusnak directs what’s essentially a one-location thriller that minimizes the scope to meet not only its lower budget, but lesser ambitions. Where Cohen pushes farther, Rusnak pulls back, losing the idiosyncratic quirks of Cohen’s superior It’s Alive.

There’s nothing wrong with a good chamber piece, but the psychological torments Sopocy and Portolese opt for are soft as fresh-out-the-bag marshmallows. So much of the film hinges on Lenore’s cover-up tactics when she realizes her wee one is a maneater, which becomes one-note in the process. Frank wanders around, ignoring red flags, and Chris is removed from the picture for a small bit to keep the massacre going. In both films, Lenore has trouble turning against her child—but Cohen is much more thoughtful about Lenore’s state through it all. Rusnak’s direction is short-sighted, rudimentary, and flat, as it has nothing interesting to say about the fears of parenthood that drive Phillips’ Lenore to nurture the vengeful child she once wanted to terminate.


The Result

In It’s Alive (1974), Cohen makes a point of referencing Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, as John P. Ryan’s Frank recalls having the epiphany that Dr. Frankenstein is the villain, not his creation. It’s what drives Cohen’s screenplay, as we learn how the doctors tried to kill the original baby, since its deformities made it look like a melon-headed, fang-toothed freakshow. There’s none of that in Rusnak’s remake, which diminishes the creature’s origins and motives to anger. It’s an uninteresting modification because the point of Cohen’s picture is to question what makes a monster, and how its creators process their hand in the chaos. Rusnak’s not interested in such explorations, except when the screenplay shoehorns what foolishly appears as an anti-abortion undertone when we learn about Lenore’s sketchy internet baby-be-gone pills.

Even worse, the technical merits of Rusnak’s It’s Alive are unfortunate. Credit to the original’s cast, because Ryan and Farrell bring dramatic acting chops that accentuate their film’s tragedy; a legitimate heartbreaker. None of Rusnak’s cast are hitting on such a high caliber of talent, especially since there’s nothing meaty about Sopocy and Portolese’s character designs. It’s very Horror 101: ignore the obvious, act gobsmacked when the obvious happens, and bring it home. Phillips has been better in films like Bully and Hostel: Part II (maybe even The Wizard of Gore), while Murray is your average 2000s straight-to-video throwaway boyfriend. The rest of the supporting cast, sadly, barely even register.

There’s a charm to Cohen’s monster SFX, whipped up by Rick Baker—but also an opportunity. Cohen decided to use this three-mirror-blur vision, seeing through the baby’s eyes to show the beast as little as possible. If Rusnak wanted to make a stronger impact, he could have gone all-in on Daniel’s appearance to say, “Hey, at least we developed a rad creature!” But, alas, Rusnak might show even less of Daniel. When he does appear in the basement, or leap out of a trash can in the film’s climactic finale, it’s CG augmentation that distorts a puppet reportedly crafted by SFX superstar Tony Gardner. Cohen accomplishes infinitely more by putting his then-girlfriend Elaine Parkyn in a full-head monster mask, a pair of pointed gloves, and a partial body suit that benefit from optical tricks—because practical always wins.


The Lesson

Unknown Horror Remakes

It’s not hard to wonder why Millennium Films lost faith in Rusnak’s It’s Alive and opted for no theatrical release. In a time when horror remakes were all the rage, Millennium buried It’s Alive so deep that it’s not even watchable or rentable on streaming (ain’t even worth Tubi). No hyperbole, this remake stinks with the stinkiest of ’em. It’s slight on innovation, filled with awful genre generics, and is a slap in the face to what Cohen accomplished. There’s something so fresh about a killer baby flick that focuses on the suit-and-tie-wearing father, who is forced to challenge the stern, macho gender roles of the 70s, and something so disappointing about a 2000s horror movie that falls right back into outdated mindsets.

So what did we learn?

  • Yes, for the hundredth time, some of those 2000s horror remakes are as bad as the haters made them all out to be.
  • Ex-David Lee Roth, Ozzy Osbourne, and Alice Cooper bassist Todd Jensen plays Lenore’s doctor for some reason (which I wouldn’t have known without the internet).
  • You can appreciate a remake for trying something different, but you can also detest a remake for how poorly it does something different.
  • Why does Daniel look like a baby shark (doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo)?

Watching both It’s Alive flicks back-to-back gave me whiplash. When John P. Ryan (as Frank) confronts his cowering, terrified child-monster in the bowels of Los Angeles, I nearly shed a tear. That whole scene really, as Ryan realizes he’s become the Dr. Frankenstein of sorts, and his miserable, deformed boy craves his father’s affection in a time of need. Then you have Rusnak’s film, which brutally kills the pro-abortion character, insinuates Lenore is being punished for trying to abort Daniel early in the pregnancy, and deserves to die with her demon spawn engulfed by the worst CG flames this side of Birdemic: Shock and Terror. I just … kudos to Cohen for richly developing a sci-fi curio with a tremendous sense of emotional understanding, and nothing but thumbs down for Rusnak’s remake, which comes off as plenty boneheaded and hella halfhearted in the process.

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