The Nightmare Before Christmas

365 Films

Entry #94

The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993)

Directed by Henry Selick

How much can one say about The Nightmare Before Christmas? What started out as a secretive cult oddity has morphed into a true cultural phenomenon complete with a yearly theatrical 3D re-release and a slot in the coveted movies-converted-into-Disney-rides-pantheon.  I don’t mean to imply that the stop-motion animated musical doesn’t deserve any of these accolades.  I only mean to observe how a work can lie dormant for over a decade before its eventual worldwide resurrection.  Nightmare used to be a secret code only spoken by those who were savvy enough to be in on the joke (I’m well aware of how snobby that sounds but I’m usually a day late and a dollar short to most pop culture happenings so just let me have this one thing, okay?) and it was the kind of shared enriching experience that created friendships at a young age.  When you realized someone was also into this weird holiday hybrid movie that you saw, you soon came to the conclusion that you might have a lot of other shit in common with this person as well.  Some of you may be rolling your eyes right now at the larger cultural implications I’m attempting to extract from this particular work so let me offer in my defense that, as a movie, Nightmare isn’t much to write home about.  Before you all start gathering your pitchforks and torches, let me explain that I only mean to comment upon the relatively simplistic nature of the narrative trajectory.  It follows the formula made ubiquitous by other works in the Disney cannon.  Hero is restless, hero finds way to lose himself, hero screws up in the new life, and finally, hero eventually learns to embrace himself and his place in a larger society.  I don’t think anybody in this movie believed they were splitting the atom in regards to the storytelling.  My backhanded compliment finally reaches its destination when I say that this makes its accomplishment as a movie that survives all the more concrete.  Nightmare pulls off a truly astounding feat by sticking to such a conventional structure because as time goes on (and this is proven) it has gradually morphed into a modern day fairy tale.  The traditional nature of its telling has been replaced by a universality from which one feels like all of the unique and individual touches were crafted just for them.  In other words, this is a movie that works just as well alone as it does with a rowdy and packed theater full of like-minded fans.  For instance, you may dig the beautifully hand-crafted animation, it could be the catchy and genuinely touching musical numbers (which is where the film’s true genius lies for me), or you might just get extreme pleasure out of watching a few Burton broadsides landed on the whole Christmas holiday empire.  Or, it should also be pointed out, you might be into the whole scene of all the elements combined.  I also have to point out that the film’s execution of one of the staples of children’s stories is virtually unheard of today (with the possible exception of Pixar), which is that it never forgets to drop those ever-so subtle hints of childhood menace and fright.  I don’t know about you guys, but I still get a cold shiver up my spine at the mere mention of the clown with the tear-away face.  Regardless of what your particular reasons perhaps the best way to think about Nightmare in light of all this is that where it once was passed on from friend to friend, it will now be passed on from generation to generation.