Don't waste it on the kiddies -- go yourself!

Rating: 9/10 (1 November 2005)

I'm no dyed-in-the-wool Tim Burton or Johnny Depp fan -- while both men have done work that I've loved, they have also given their names to projects which have ranged from 'disappointed' to 'hated it'. So I approached this film with curiosity but caution.
I needn't have worried.
In most films, it's clear within the first five minutes whether they're going to come to life or, all too often, remain a parade of cardboard characters reciting from a would-be meaningful script -- there are a handful of pictures that overcome a wooden start to blossom into glorious life, but precious few. With its opening butterfly motif, for a few moments this one could have swung either way. But when I saw the clockmaker sweeping to the strict ticks of his pendulums, I was intrigued; when I saw the fishmongers with their automatic routine, I was amused; and the instant the first song started, I was swept away.
This is a *clever* film. It's a witty film and intelligent, packed with allusion and in-jokes that will skate straight over the youngsters' heads, from Ray Harryhausen to Louis Armstrong and Clark Gable. Its depth and life come from the detail that makes it work on so many levels, humour and pathos both verbal and visual -- not to mention musical. (It is music, after all, that forges a link for Victor with both the women in his life.)
The opening scenes are a comedy of manners and class straight out of Jane Austin, as the two equally ghastly sets of parents duet in their respective snobberies: Hollywood has never hit the social-climbing target with such cringe-making hilarious results. How can the shy young couple help but bond? And when Victor wakes up in the underworld married to a gushing and trilling corpse convinced he is her destiny, who can blame him for his desperation to get away from her and back home by fair means or foul?
But the secret of this film is that it isn't the horror movie that could have been made out of the same material: the grotesquerie anchors the sweetness but does not lessen or deride it. If anything, it is essentially the story of a love triangle as Victor, pledged unwillingly to two women, comes to love them both. (One telling little instant comes during the wedding rehearsal, as Victoria unobtrusively comes to the rescue by relighting her fiancé's candle.)
The voice acting is a treat. Johnny Depp pulls off his usual chameleon act to the extent that you completely forget he's there, aware only of the character: there's no trace here of Ed Wood, Donnie Brasco or Captain Jack Sparrow. Helena Bonham-Carter has perhaps the most taxing role of all as the Corpse Bride herself, whether guilelessly girlish, heart-broken or icy in revenge, and Emily Watson brings a vivid sympathy to the part of mousy little Victoria with her surprising hint of steel. But the honours are carried off by the minor characters, from the skeletal jazz-soaked crooner to the plump zombie cook and gallant Hussar, eyeglass firmly in place despite the hole through his middle -- a galaxy of caricatures and jests poked at all classes and conditions, from the underbred Van Dorts to the overripely patrician Lord and Lady Everglot, their stooped Scottish nanny and supercilious butler.
In an era of two-and-a-half-hour epics, it's joy to find a film as tightly written and constructed as an old-style feature... and the animation is like nothing you've ever seen before. It's hard not to make comparisons with this year's "Wallace and Gromit", also an unorthodox animated film crammed with adult movie references and jokes. But the Aardman production ultimately remains a spoof, consciously subverting any serious moment for laughs.
"The Corpse Bride", despite its pantomime trappings, takes that step further into self-belief and dares to aspire to genuine art. It carries it off with glorious success. "Wallace and Gromit" made me laugh; "The Corpse Bride" made me caper joyfully down the road in excitement. But then I'm funny that way :-)
The film is not, of course, entirely without flaw. Perhaps the most glaring, as other have pointed out, is that Lord Barkiss's identity is obvious from the moment, early on, that he mentions his tragically deceased fiancée -- fine, if the plot hadn't postponed that grand revelation until the final chapter! We know why Victoria's parents believe him to be a wealthy catch, but are left at a loss as to why he seems to be ignorant of her poverty.
Victoria's escape serves no plot purpose at all and carries no consequences: subsequent events would have transpired just the same had she spent the whole time locked in her room. The unintended result is that this came across as condescending filler, a ham-handed attempt to give her equal screen time. I assume that the lack of significance is an oversight and not an actual last-minute addition...
And the talking maggot, which might have been a successful one-off joke, verges close to irritating-cartoon-sidekick territory. Perhaps this is one element that will appeal more to children than their elders. (I must confess that the apparent Peter Lorre impression, offensive or not, had passed me entirely by.)
These elements aside, the more you bring to this film the more you will take back. Within the first ten minutes I was reminded of half a dozen other great films -- and all in a good way! Tim Burton's had some showy flops, but this one is the genuine article, a classic in the making.
I give it nine out of ten. But ask me again in thirty years' time, and maybe I'll give it a 10 :-)