A Grimm Girl Enters A Grim World…

When I say “The Nightmare Before Christmas”, what is the first name that comes to mind? Tim Burton. Burton invokes visions of dark whimsy, and promises tours into a world that is distinctly his own. From the visual style and original story based on Burton’s illustrated book to his entire filmography coined a word that solely attributes to the artist and his world — Burtonesque. Hell, his name is in the title: Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas. It takes a few more synapses in the brain to remember that Henry Selick was the film’s director. Selick made Jack Skellington come to life. Even the association of Burton as a producer blurs Selick’s accomplishment for his 1996 film James and the Giant Peach, based on the Roald Dahl novel. Finally, Burton is absent working on his adaptation of Alice in Wonderland due 2010. Selick is all alone here with the adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s Hugo Award winning novel.

Coraline is Selick’s baby.

11-year-old Coraline (Dakota Fanning) is an intelligent, waifish girl with dyed ink-blue hair. She has a bright, funky wardrobe including a loud, yellow raincoat and striped stockings. To her, the thought of attending a private school where she’d have to wear a grey uniform like everybody else is like opening her skull and smearing mud on her brains. Some may consider Coraline to be a little snot. She had my sympathies the second her face turned into a sour sneer. I could relate. I was easily peeved as a kid, and viewed authority skeptically. Most of my childhood felt like I was holding my breath, waiting for the smog to clear. I enjoyed my own pursuits, and had little interest in being “a good sport” about constantly being IT in games of Tag, among other childhood indignities. What gets Coraline through the day are her explorations outside on overcast afternoons, decorating with vibrant colours, and missing her friends after moving from Michigan into the deep woodlands.

Her precociousness clashes against the few eccentric denizens living in the rented levels of the Pink Palace Apartments. Mr. Bobinsky (Ian McShane), a blue-skinned, potbellied Russian vaudevillian trains mice for his small circus on the top floor. In the basement, one stout Miss Spink (Jennifer Saunders) and one very buxom Miss Forcible (Dawn French) are retired acrobats whose personalities might remind those Pushing Daisies fans of The Darling Mermaid Darlings. The designs of these two old crones were likely inspired by the characters Aunt Sponge and Aunt Spiker in Selick’s James and the Giant Peach (1996). The two provide Coraline with handy tea-leaf readings and decades-old sweets. The odd boy next door named Wyborn (Robert Bailey Jr.) – “Why were you born?” – is a motor-mouth whose steady steam of chatter rivals his own dirt bike. The poor kid’s awkwardness is amplified by his hunchback and skewed head. Unfortunately for him, Coraline isn’t a very empathetic person — a universal trait shared amongst most children. He just gets on her nerves.

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Before becoming the next best thing to the likes of film composer Danny Elfman, Shirley Walker made her mark as a conductor for a few renowned films such as Randa Haine’s Children of a Lesser God (1986) and Jonathan Kaplan’s The Accused (1988). Her greatness was matched by the production of Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now (1979) as her first gig in Hollywood. On the Internet Movie Database, Walker is listed as a synthesizer musician in the film’s music department. The original music credit goes to its director (listed as Francis Coppola) and his father Carmine Coppola. Coppola’s wife, Eleanor, was too busy documenting its production with stunning material that would later become Hearts of Darkness: A Filmmaker’s Apocalypse (1991), written and directed by Fax Bahr and George Hickenlooper who also made the wonderful film, The Man From Elysian Fields (2001). Like Werner Herzog’s Fitzcarraldo (1982) and its accompanying documentary Burden of Dreams (1982), Hearts of Darkness presents the production as harrowing an experience as Apocalypse Now.

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A Punishing Character Drama

One of the most painful moments in The Wrestler is when the doctor explains to Randy “The Ram” Robinson (Mickey Rourke) after his heart attack that he must not exert himself. The aging, muscular man is devastated and cries out, “Doc! I’m a professional wrestler!” The key word there is professional. He takes it seriously. It defines him. Being stripped of his identity, Randy feels worthless. He has never thought about the long term. His lost years of celebrity, drug use and promiscuity left him devoid of anyone who really care about him. Now, Randy is finally going to feel the emotional punishment he has spent his life numbing by punishing himself in the ring.

Why do I love Randy “The Ram” Robinson? Because after sleeping in the back of his van, he has the good spirit to humour the kids knocking outside his window with some horseplay. Because he is a good sport when he choreographs a wrestling match involving a staple gun being used on him. Because he really does love Cassidy (Marisa Tomei), that sweet woman who works at the strip joint he often frequents. Because he is a good sport when he choreographs having a staple gun used on him during a match. Because when Randy picks out a jacket with the letter “S” for his justifiably resentful daughter Stephanie (Evan Rachel Wood), he really thinks she’ll like it. Because Randy hates himself for screwing up the good things that come his way. I can’t hate a man who already hates himself so much.

Mickey Rourke plays this character as if he atoning for sins for which he cannot forgive himself. Watch how Rourke has Randy force himself to smile and not cry when Cassidy swills the rest of her beer down. Sizing up Rourke, Marisa Tomei as Cassidy stomachs so much pain here, whether she exposes her body and is passed over by customers or how she just can’t bear to watch Randy punish himself. Back in 2005, Rourke played a brutish lug named Marv in the comic-adaptation of Sin City. That character’s dialogue and scarred face were the stuff of pulp. Marv is an extension to Randy, a very sad avenger who nurses romantic fantasies. The closest Marv gets to a confession is when he confides his trouble with love. “I couldn’t even buy a woman… the way I look.” Mickey cut a big slab of himself off that meaty character and named him “The Ram”.

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