Review: Tim Burton’s ‘The Nightmare Before Christmas’ (1993)

Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993) has, in time, made a name for itself as both the quintessential Halloween flick and a gloriously lugubrious antithesis to the traditional Christmas holiday schlock. Conceived and produced by Tim Burton – the oft-regarded leading light of darkness, so to speak – this stop-motion spook-tacular is also regularly, if erroneously, cited as one of Burton’s filmic masterpieces, despite the fact that he neither directed it, nor was he in charge of the feature’s artistic direction. The film was, in fact, directed by Henry Selick, though Burton’s name is the one you remember, whether or not you’re aware of these particulars. In any case, over the last twenty years or so, it has become widely acknowledged as ‘textbook Burton’, having garnered worldwide acclaim and a substantial increase in popularity – so much so in fact that it has amassed something of a cult following, inspiring a vast array of trinkets, dolls, costumes and other miscellaneous merchandising, popular amongst those who identify with its ‘alternative’ approach to the holiday season – a market to whom its appeal is unquestionably indomitable; there’s simply no other film like it.

Although distributed under Disney’s subsidiary label Touchstone Pictures, The Nightmare Before Christmas is nothing like any Disney flick you’ve ever seen. The film follows Jack Skellington (voiced by Chris Sarandon), the Pumpkin King of Halloween Town, who, in his increasing dissatisfaction with his annual by-the-numbers Halloween routine, wanders off into the Hinterlands. While there, he stumbles upon the other Holiday Doors, leading him to discover the wondrous spectacle that is Christmas Town. Upon discovering this unfamiliar, joyous terrain, Jack becomes obsessed and ultimately decides to kidnap ‘Sandy Claws’ (Santa Claus), the Christmas Holiday Leader, and take over the holiday. But things soon take a turn for the worse when Lock, Shock and Barrel, three mischievous kids assigned the task of kidnapping Santa, instead take the holiday leader to Oogie Boogie, an evil bogeyman who proceeds to torture him.

So what exactly is this film’s appeal? What was it that made this film so great that, to this day, it continues to delight with its delectably dark-yet-delightful subtext? Well, to begin with, the visuals are beyond captivating. While he didn’t have full creative control over the film’s visual development, the locations, buildings and character designs are all so wonderfully Burton-esque, adorned with crooked constructs and shrivelled spirals, complemented by a perpetually monochrome palette. It really is a beautiful thing to see; with so much attention to detail, the visuals alone render the stop-motion musical masterpiece a work of art. The models’ intricacy is a wondrous thing to behold, particularly considering the usage of the increasingly obsolescent replacement animation technique, reminiscent of the likes of George Pal, only executed to greater effect with a wider range of expressions. Equally enchanting is the music, composed by Danny Elfman, who also performs as Jack’s singing voice. While Elfman’s vocals, for me personally, do little to enhance the musical renditions, the score is hauntingly atmospheric, and the songs undeniably catchy – you’ll be singing them in your head for weeks, undoubtedly. The film is indeed extraordinary – from its setting and designs to its quirky characters and soundtrack – but the most extraordinary thing about it is just how such a dark and gloomy narrative can maintain such ironically heart-warming undertones.

I say heart-warming, although as a precautionary measure, I wouldn’t recommend this film to too young an audience. Generally speaking, its appeal is universal, although I must admit that I distinctly remember becoming incredibly stressed out by the torture of Santa Claus when I first saw it as a toddler, and it’s only in more recent years I’ve grown appreciative of its profound uniqueness in terms of plot and artistic appeal. Regardless, this Halloween-Holiday classic is an essential and iconic piece of film history, one whose visual marketability has even inspired its own brand of fashion, fit for a new generation of followers that has only in recent years begun to emerge. Ultimately, Burton’s Nightmare proves to be anything but; a highly recommended Halloween hit.

Image Sources:

Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas: Special Edition. [DVD] (2001) Touchstone Home Video, Burbank California.