山姆的小島心情

Tim Burton's stop-animation film follows the goings-on in the Land of the Dead

"Tim Burton's Corpse Bride" is a wondrous flight of fancy, a stop-motion-animated treat brimming with imaginative characters, evocative sets, sly humor, inspired songs and a genuine whimsy that seldom finds its way into today's movies. In short, everything has gone right in Tim Burton's second foray into stop-motion following his 1993 film "The Nightmare Before Christmas."

The title may frighten off some family business, but the Land of the Dead proves to be such a raucous and naughty place that the film's allure should extend beyond Burton fans to include a sizable family crowd. The Warner Bros. domestic release is Sept. 23.

The puppets come in all shapes and sizes, but the three protagonists are tall and thin with facial characteristics reminiscent of their voice actors: Johnny Depp, Helena Bonham Carter and Emily Watson. The village that is the Land of the Living is vaguely late-19th century Eastern European with a permanent overcast that yields a rich, monochromatic black and white with only faint dabs of color when a match flares or a butterfly appears.

Ah, but the Land of the Dead is ablaze in color. It boasts an open bar, the Ball and Sockett Pub, and its own bony band, the Skeletones led by hep cat Bonejangles (voiced by the film's composer, Danny Elfman). Skeletons collapse and regroup. A bodiless head is the Head Waiter. There's a Second Hand Shop, which means exactly what you think it means. A cheerful maggot, for no apparent reason, sounds like Peter Lorre. You know what one elder means when he says "people are dying to get down here."

The story, penned by John August, Caroline Thompson and Pamela Pettler, is supposedly based on a macabre Russian folk tale. It's set deep into the class-conscious, highly repressed Victorian era, so much so that the two young people, who find themselves the object of an arranged marriage, are called Victor and Victoria.

Victor (Depp) is a shy, talented pianist with a penchant for clumsiness. His social-climbing, nouveau riche parents, Nell and William Van Dort (Tracey Ullman and Paul Whitehouse), push him into marriage with the even shyer Victoria (Watson), daughter of penniless aristocrats Maudeline and Finis Everglot (Joanna Lumley and Albert Finney).

Miraculously, romance sparks between these two. They might be happy after all, which would be a direct affront to the Victorian era, not to mention their parents. While practicing his vows in the nearby forest, Victor places the wedding ring on a dead twig sticking out of the ground ... which turns out not to be a dead twig but the hand of a murdered bride.

The vow awakens the Corpse Bride (Carter), whose heart no longer beats yet still seeks a true love to share for all eternity. She accepts the astonished groom's vows and drags poor Victor down to the underworld. How will he find his way back?

The story unfolds with several fanciful songs by Elfman. One is reminiscent of Gilbert and Sullivan by way of Lionel Bart. Another is pure New Orleans jazz. The animation, directed by Burton and Mike Johnson from characters created by Burton and Carlos Grangel, is both witty and lovely to behold whether topside or down below. And the voice actors get just the right tone and tenor for their individual characters.

At 77 minutes, you might be tempted to see the film twice.