I am a sucker for the Disney Renaissance. The Lion
King, Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin—those are the best animated Disney movies.
Bar none. Yes, I will watch Cinderella or The Little Mermaid (no thanks,
Pocahontas), and sure, I love the trippiness of Alice in Wonderland as much as
anyone else. But Simba/Mufasa, Belle/Beast, Aladdin/Jasmine. Done and done.
Well … and Jack/Sally. Because it still blows my
mind that The Nightmare Before Christmas is a Disney movie that came out around
the same time as the Disney Renaissance—1993, under Disney’s Touchstone
Pictures—even though I should really know better. Why else would Tim Burton be
so beloved by Disney, beloved enough to give us clunkers like Dark Shadows and
the remade Alice in Wonderland? Why else would Johnny Depp be drawn into Disney’s
web, but Burton? Basically what I’m saying is you can blame Tim Burton for
Johnny Depp only playing versions of Jack Sparrow in every movie he’s made in
recent memory. You’re an asshole, Tim Burton.
But before he was an asshole, man, he was fantastic.
Edward Scissorhands: Yes! And The Nightmare Before Christmas, which actually
wasn’t directed by Burton but was enough his movie that it has his name before
it on movie posters: Double yes! I know of no animated film that is more
perfect for Halloween, and of course, Disney knows this; that’s why there are
officially licensed Jack and Sally Halloween costumes, why Jack and Sally
merchandise gets an uptick at places like Hot Topic come October, why that
annoying teenager who lives on your street and insists on having, like, four
lip rings and is still wearing JNCOs is humming “This is Halloween” under his
breath for the next three weeks. Fuck that kid! Even though that song is amazing,
fuck that kid.
Because as much as The Nightmare Before Christmas
has going for it—the macabre design, the endless work that went into the stop
motion, the adorableness of ghost dog Zero, who weirdly and always reminds me
of Billy Corgan of the Smashing Pumpkins—it is that first song (which I can't embed here, but at least I can link you to it on YouTube) that sets the
tone for everything that comes afterward. It is that introduction into this
world of Halloween Town, of monstrous-but-loveable ghouls and vampires and witches
and the like, that lets you know how this film is going to go. It is going to
be self-aware. It is going to take delight in the things that go bump in the night.
And it is going to argue for love and affection amid this world of darkness; it
is going to make a case for finding that special someone, even in your weird
community, even with your weird neighbors, even with those weird kids (Lock,
Stock, and Barrel, naturally), who won’t leave you alone.
Perhaps you could argue (as my brother vehemently
does, even though he likes this movie quite a lot) that the conclusion is
actually kind of depressing, that it tells viewers that they can’t change who
you are, that you’re stuck with something, that you can’t strive for anything
new. But I don’t think the movie is a rejection of aspiration; I think it’s an
acceptance and appreciation for what you have. And sometimes what you have is
Halloween Town. I don’t see anything wrong with that.
