Tim Burton has become something of a predictable commodity in Hollywood these days, and nowhere is that more evident than in his visually inventive but narratively stale, new stop-motion animated film, Corpse Bride (or, to be technical about it, Tim Burton's Corpse Bride). Crafted in the same style as his 1993 cult classic The Nightmare Before Christmas (or, to be technical about it, Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas), Corpse Bride tells the story of a shy, nervous fellow named Victor (voiced by Johnny Depp), living in some vaguely European village some time vaguely in the past. His parents have arranged for him to marry Victoria (Emily Watson), a daughter of nobility whom he's never met.
Although terrified of his wedding day and repulsed by Victoria's vulgar parents, Victor nevertheless comes to appreciate his bride-to-be as sweet and caring, and even begins to fall in love with her. All of that comes to an abrupt halt, however, when through a complicated series of coincidences, Victor ends up betrothed to the titular carcass, a perky (but dead) woman named Emily (Helena Bonham Carter). Emily takes Victor with her to the hip, happening underworld, which is a lot more exciting than his drab village, but all Victor wants is to get back to his originally intended bride.
Inspired equally by Eastern European folk tales, Charles Addams, Edward Gorey and Ed Wood (as well as his own body of work, which is a distinct style all its own at this point), Burton, along with co-director Mike Johnson, puts together a film that looks amazing down to its last detail. The stop-motion, perhaps the most tedious and time-consuming way to make a film, is impeccably rendered, each character a uniquely grotesque work of dark art. Burton's attention to detail (a piano is labeled "Harryhausen," in tribute to stop-motion pioneer Ray Harryhausen) makes the film a treasure trove for obsessive cultists who've watched The Nightmare Before Christmas hundreds of times. They'll likely find this film just as enthralling, since it trades in many of the same themes and motifs.
But for anyone looking for something beyond Burton's rubber-stamped style, the film is a disappointment. The story is vague and flimsy, and even at only 75 minutes, drags on too long. The superfluous songs by longtime Burton collaborator Danny Elfman are unmemorable and do little to advance the plot. There are a few funny moments, but overall Bride feels like a bunch of really cool pictures in search of a reason to exist, a story to hang on to.
The script was reportedly being rewritten as shooting progressed, so it's no surprise that the story is the weakest element. After taking only story and producer credits on Nightmare, Burton involves himself as co-director this time around, and the result should be a stronger auteurist vision. But the director was busy making Charlie and the Chocolate Factory at the same time, a film that, despite its remake status, ultimately emerged as more authentically Burtonian. Bride is like Burton once removed, as if all the goth teens who buy Nightmare memorabilia at Hot Topic got together and made their own version.
Even if Burton's figured out his formula, it's an effective formula for a reason, and a mediocre Burton film is still 10 times as original as most other Hollywood movies, especially animated ones. Corpse Bride is harmless and goofy enough to appeal to children, but it doesn't temper its darkness for the sake of being family-friendly. It's Tim Burton just as you expect him, and for most of his fans, that's more than enough.