: (Danny Elfman) There must be some
kind of mental condition that describes the specific derangement that
director Tim Burton suffers that causes him to be so fascinated with
graceful portrayals of death and stark realities. His stop motion
animated film
, considered an
anomaly and a failure by Disney at its debut, turned out to not only be
a rare singularity in modern film, but also a mass cult favorite. Its
catering to both the morbid symbols of the underworld and boundlessly
hopeful worlds of different holidays combined with Danny Elfman's
popular musical numbers to create, at the very least, a very memorable
piece of entertainment. Despite the great following that
has continued to build, it took Burton
and Elfman a dozen years before resurrecting the same stop
motion/musical formula. There was considerable studio interest in having
Burton create a straight sequel to the 1993 classic, but the director
chose not to risk the legacy of the original. However,
could largely be considered an extension of the same concept.
While it's by no means a sequel to the previous hit, the common
treatment of macabre underworld elements in various shades of gray,
along with Elfman's similarly conceived musical ideas, cause the 2005
movie to be as close to a follow-up as anyone will likely ever see.
Traversing the worlds of the living and dead, with multiple weddings of
an old-English style, Burton's fantasy challenges viewers with a drab,
colorless portrayal of the real world (as real as the stop motion and
bizarre 3-D miniature sets can allow) in contrast to a significantly
livelier, more colorful existence in the afterlife. The love triangle
that exists between the three primary characters (two women, one dead
and one alive, both with an interest in marrying the same dweeby man) is
accented by Burton's usual flair for stereotyped auxiliary characters,
and these folks once again have a major role to play in the songs for
. Elfman obviously flourishes in this environment,
not only writing in perpetually somber tones, but also with the chorus
and instrumentation of choice for a maximum emotional effect. Written
concurrently by Elfman were the scores for Burton's
, but whereas the latter was
a much more major production that saw its songs go through significant
revisions over time,
was a project that Elfman
deemed fun and comparatively easy.
The base sound for
Corpse Bride is nearly identical
to that of
The Nightmare Before Christmas (why mess with
something that worked?), and the concept of high-energy ensemble cast
songs returns as well. So faithful to the previous score's structure is
Elfman that we even get the 1930's New Orleans jazz and blues treatment
for the underworld characters, a 180-degree turn from the
harpsichord-laced pseudo classical environment of the "real" European
world. The major difference between
The Nightmare Before
Christmas and
Corpse Bride is that the latter film devalues
its musical song side by striking the idea of a narration by the primary
character. Without a narrative flow in the songs like that which Jack
Skellington had so brilliantly provided,
Corpse Bride's songs
exist without any connection to each other and have no central voice.
The two wedding preparation songs ("According to Plan" and "The Wedding
Song") are creatively juxtaposed in their other-worldly, disparate
treatments of the ceremonies, but the performers speak their roles for
the most part and the themes Elfman bases them upon can't carry the lack
of strong vocals. The connection between "The Wedding Song" and the
style of Gilbert and Sullivan is so thinly veiled that it may prove
distracting for some listeners. The "Remains of the Day" song is the
"fun" piece in the film, and although Elfman's emulation of a gritty,
throaty voice of a black man is admirable (he must have been coarse for
a week after recording his role for this song), his more recognizable
frenetic vocal performances reside in the consistently familiar "Wedding
Song." The only truly redeeming song is "Tears to Shed," in which the
corpse bride offers her lament with a longing reminiscent of Sally's
song in the previous film. Even in this entry, however, Elfman is
confined to Helena Bonham Carter's limited singing range at the time and
she, like the others, mostly speaks her way through the song. Other than
the beautiful corpse bride interludes within "Tears to Shed," the themes
within the songs won't be as memorable for fans and it's doubtful that
they'll stick with audiences after the closing credits of the film
finish. The lyrics, in part coined by Elfman once again, are further
evidence of his perverse and subversive talents, and they humorously
speak as the best aspect of the songs. In Burton's world, it's no doubt
that breathing is definitely "overrated." Whereas the songs in
The
Nightmare Before Christmas easily stole the show from the relatively
minor amount of score in that film,
Corpse Bride relies far more
heavily on the magic of its orchestral score to accentuate the raw
emotions in the story.
The melodies from the songs in
Corpse Bride
don't occupy the majority of the score's time, which harms the songs but
allows Elfman's score to stand alone as a portion warranting attention.
Aside from the rambling of periodic jazz, the score is subdued and
respectful, beautiful and heartbreaking. Setting aside the mixture of
electronics and orchestra used in
Charlie and the Chocolate
Factory earlier in the year, Elfman approaches
Corpse Bride
with the piano and harpsichord as central elements to a traditional
orchestra and choir. The several calming underscore cues tingle with the
percussion of
Edward Scissorhands while the more playful ones
whip the strings into a frenzy a la
Beetlejuice (along with that
score's fiddle for the underworld) and the two most frightening action
pieces belt out brass so harsh and resolute that only a reference to
Sleepy Hollow can be made. Unlike the many melancholy Elfman
scores of this sort that are highly inconsistent listening experiences,
Corpse Bride deviates from that trend and stays a steady course;
the downfall to this consistency is that Elfman never really does pull
off a full-fledged crescendo of string and choir beauty, though the
finale here does excel to a moderate degree. Ironically, the greatest
strength of the score is also ultimately the biggest detraction from the
film. For the live man at the heart of the story, Elfman wrote a lovely,
albeit depressing piano melody, and this theme for Victor is the
dominant idea that holds the score together. Aside from its source
usage, Elfman applies it as the identity of the opening and closing
titles, weaving it into an abundance of situations throughout the meat
of the score. The reason this theme becomes a liability to
Corpse
Bride is because Elfman was never allowed to develop it into the
natural primary song of the movie. He recorded a demo over sparse piano
accompaniment with the finished lyrics (entitled "Erased"), and so
beautiful this song could have been with a finished recording that it
may have afforded
Corpse Bride two things that
The Nightmare
Before Christmas never enjoyed: one truly dominant song to represent
the film and the opportunity for consolidated awards attention for that
single song. As mentioned before, a significant detraction from
Corpse Bride compared to its predecessor is the lack of narrative
songs (there's no doubt that four is too few to sustain the musical
environment), and one full performance of "Erased" and perhaps a reprise
at the end could have really helped the film maintain a more cohesive
identity. Dropping the song from the movie, by all reports, was not
Elfman's decision and was as much a disappointment for him as
anyone.
In the end,
Corpse Bride suffers because it
inevitably must be compared to
The Nightmare Before Christmas,
and while the later endeavor is a solid entry on its own merits, it
fails in several important aspects of comparison. First, the weakness
and infrequency of the songs once again defy the soundtrack's attempt to
be defined as a musical. Eleven songs exist in
The Nightmare Before
Christmas, and with only four apiece,
Corpse Bride and
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory really can't compete in that
genre. The lack of Elfman's own, natural performing voice, which is more
enjoyable than even his deviant manipulations of voice for ensemble
pieces, is another disappointment. This absence was lamentable in
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, too, and perhaps Burton and
Elfman consider his voice too tied to the Pumpkin King to suffice in
different contexts. Finally, the adaptation of the songs' melodies into
the underscore is rather tepid, and aside from the jazz for the
underworld, not even much of the instrumental style of those songs has
much of an impact on surrounding material. How the solemnly pretty
portions of "Tears to Shed" didn't make more of an impact on the score
is a head-scratcher. Then again, on the plus side, Elfman's score here
is superior, and it will provide several splendid pieces, highlighted by
the choral depth of "Into the Forest," "Finale," and the instrumental
version of "Erased" in the first half of the end credits, to extend the
agony in the heart of any die-hard Elfman fanatic. On album, Warner
released about 50 minutes of song and score from
Corpse Bride in
2005, padded by nine minutes of source jazz material for the underworld.
While this presentation will be sufficient for most, the soundtrack
receives better treatment on the limited 2011 set, "The Danny Elfman and
Tim Burton 25th Anniversary Music Box" (reviewed separately at
Filmtracks), that you can enjoy for a whopping $500. Like
The
Nightmare Before Christmas, numerous additional score cues, demo
recordings, and orchestra-only versions of the songs from
Corpse
Bride are presented over several CDs on that product. The demos are
important because they finally expose the work that Elfman did on
Victor's song, "Erased," before it was cut. The extra score tracks
amount to about fifteen minutes of music, the first two cues, "Victor &
Victoria Meet" and "Victor's Escape," sizable but not adding too much
that wasn't already touched upon in the rest of the score. A
chronological ordering on the set's dedicated CD for
Corpse Bride
(CD #12) would have been preferred, but Elfman seems enamored with
preserving the previously available album presentations. Ultimately,
Corpse Bride has much to offer, but with its most important song
dropped and its narrative thus imperiled, it remains a flawed work.
*** @Amazon.com: CD or
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Bias Check: |
For Danny Elfman reviews at Filmtracks, the average editorial rating is 3.16
(in 90 reviews) and the average viewer rating is 3.27
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