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I've been ill today and as I dragged myself from bed to go and make a life-sustaining cup of tea I was thrilled to discover that one of Special Reserve's vastly inferior rivals had got its act together and posted me a copy of 'The Nightmare Before Christmas'. Now I didn't feel like watching an entire film, given my general head-achey feeling of yuckiness so I decided to have a quick look at the extra features.
Wow! My headache suddenly subsides.. not only is there the usual purchase-incentive gubbins, ie making of's, directors commentaries, story boards, etc. But what should I see, two of Tim Burton's first films!!! 'Vincent' and 'Frankenweenie'. The latter was made for Disney so I didn't watch that, but I'll get round to it.. Far more interesting was 'Vincent', a five minute short about a boy who wants to be Vincent Price. It's really quite a beautiful animated short, with a narration by Price himself, who reads a Burton poem about a boy who dreams of being Vincent Price. The boy is very nice in reality but dreams of dunking his aunt in wax and living in empty castles... Anyway it's typical gothic Burton stuff and the poem's in the 'Oyster boy' vein of Burton poems.
So I returned to the sanctuary of my bed with a fresh cup of tea and was inspired to write a poem in the style of Mr.Burton to pass the monotonous hours. I am going to open myself to all kinds of abuse by now posting it here. Ignore the first rhyme, it's a little weak, but it does feature in the story... If anyone has a stop frame camera they can help me film my 5 minute short.. My only other flash of cinematic genius is a five minute film about the life of a 3ft vegetable named philip the gourd.
Anyway, for your enjoyment and derision, my Burton tribute:
"The boy who lived in the dark"
There once was a boy who lived in the dark
In a room with no windows far from the park.
While the other children played and had fun
This boy stayed alone in the room with no sun.
His table was empty and cupboard threadbare
For he ate only the spiders that dwelt in his lair.
His eyes had adjusted to the dust-darkened gloom
And shone like birght lights in the musty old room.
The reason for which he had kept himself there
was the radiant red flame of his bright orange hair
Its flowing flicker would ignite from draft
And upon seeing it, how the children would laugh.
Their cackles and shrieks had sent him to flight
Up the stairs to the tower he fled from the light.
When removed from the sun his hair did not burn
But nevertheless his heart would still yearn
For love and affection from the children outside
And in that dark dungeon he silently cried.
All of a sudden he had an idea
That would silence the laughter and bring them all near.
This brilliant idea would put his life back on track;
He had decided to dye his hair black.
So from the ledges and door and shelves and floor
He swept up all the dust till there was no more,
Then plunging his head into the knee-deep pile
He extinguished his hair's incandescent fire.
He envisaged himself with his new black mane
And said out aloud "My life's going to change!"
It was time, he decided, to emerge from the dark
So he skipped down the stairs and ran to the park.
When he arrived the laughter had ceased,
Instead someone screamed "What on earth is that beast?!"
The children all yelled and ran for their lives
But he remained still and openly cried.
His tears made a puddle that grew into a lake
And in the rippling waters he saw his mistake:
The reason for which they had all run away
Was that his jet-black hair was in fact grey.
He ran away from the park and away from them all,
The grey-haired boy who had tried to fit in.
Back in his prison he curled up on the floor
And vowed that never would he leave it anymore.
The End
Wow! My headache suddenly subsides.. not only is there the usual purchase-incentive gubbins, ie making of's, directors commentaries, story boards, etc. But what should I see, two of Tim Burton's first films!!! 'Vincent' and 'Frankenweenie'. The latter was made for Disney so I didn't watch that, but I'll get round to it.. Far more interesting was 'Vincent', a five minute short about a boy who wants to be Vincent Price. It's really quite a beautiful animated short, with a narration by Price himself, who reads a Burton poem about a boy who dreams of being Vincent Price. The boy is very nice in reality but dreams of dunking his aunt in wax and living in empty castles... Anyway it's typical gothic Burton stuff and the poem's in the 'Oyster boy' vein of Burton poems.
So I returned to the sanctuary of my bed with a fresh cup of tea and was inspired to write a poem in the style of Mr.Burton to pass the monotonous hours. I am going to open myself to all kinds of abuse by now posting it here. Ignore the first rhyme, it's a little weak, but it does feature in the story... If anyone has a stop frame camera they can help me film my 5 minute short.. My only other flash of cinematic genius is a five minute film about the life of a 3ft vegetable named philip the gourd.
Anyway, for your enjoyment and derision, my Burton tribute:
"The boy who lived in the dark"
There once was a boy who lived in the dark
In a room with no windows far from the park.
While the other children played and had fun
This boy stayed alone in the room with no sun.
His table was empty and cupboard threadbare
For he ate only the spiders that dwelt in his lair.
His eyes had adjusted to the dust-darkened gloom
And shone like birght lights in the musty old room.
The reason for which he had kept himself there
was the radiant red flame of his bright orange hair
Its flowing flicker would ignite from draft
And upon seeing it, how the children would laugh.
Their cackles and shrieks had sent him to flight
Up the stairs to the tower he fled from the light.
When removed from the sun his hair did not burn
But nevertheless his heart would still yearn
For love and affection from the children outside
And in that dark dungeon he silently cried.
All of a sudden he had an idea
That would silence the laughter and bring them all near.
This brilliant idea would put his life back on track;
He had decided to dye his hair black.
So from the ledges and door and shelves and floor
He swept up all the dust till there was no more,
Then plunging his head into the knee-deep pile
He extinguished his hair's incandescent fire.
He envisaged himself with his new black mane
And said out aloud "My life's going to change!"
It was time, he decided, to emerge from the dark
So he skipped down the stairs and ran to the park.
When he arrived the laughter had ceased,
Instead someone screamed "What on earth is that beast?!"
The children all yelled and ran for their lives
But he remained still and openly cried.
His tears made a puddle that grew into a lake
And in the rippling waters he saw his mistake:
The reason for which they had all run away
Was that his jet-black hair was in fact grey.
He ran away from the park and away from them all,
The grey-haired boy who had tried to fit in.
Back in his prison he curled up on the floor
And vowed that never would he leave it anymore.
The End
Apparently Tim Burton replied to Kein Smith's accusation in terms along the lines of:
"I don't read comics, and even if I did, I wouldn't read anything by Kevin Smith.."
ooh handbags out at 10 paces.
"I don't read comics, and even if I did, I wouldn't read anything by Kevin Smith.."
ooh handbags out at 10 paces.
I quite like Tim Burton films - Nightmare Before Christmas, Eddie Scissorhands, et all, but did you know that his 're-imagining' of Planet of the Apes was stolen from Kevin Smith's comic book 'Chasing Dogma'? It's true, ask Snuggly. There's an ongoing feud between them about stupid little things like Burton firing Smith as writer for 'Superman Lives'. They hate each other. They'd hiss and their tails would puff up if they saw each other in the street. Anyway, Burton stole Smith's idea - makes you think doesn't it.
I've been ill today and as I dragged myself from bed to go and make a life-sustaining cup of tea I was thrilled to discover that one of Special Reserve's vastly inferior rivals had got its act together and posted me a copy of 'The Nightmare Before Christmas'. Now I didn't feel like watching an entire film, given my general head-achey feeling of yuckiness so I decided to have a quick look at the extra features.
Wow! My headache suddenly subsides.. not only is there the usual purchase-incentive gubbins, ie making of's, directors commentaries, story boards, etc. But what should I see, two of Tim Burton's first films!!! 'Vincent' and 'Frankenweenie'. The latter was made for Disney so I didn't watch that, but I'll get round to it.. Far more interesting was 'Vincent', a five minute short about a boy who wants to be Vincent Price. It's really quite a beautiful animated short, with a narration by Price himself, who reads a Burton poem about a boy who dreams of being Vincent Price. The boy is very nice in reality but dreams of dunking his aunt in wax and living in empty castles... Anyway it's typical gothic Burton stuff and the poem's in the 'Oyster boy' vein of Burton poems.
So I returned to the sanctuary of my bed with a fresh cup of tea and was inspired to write a poem in the style of Mr.Burton to pass the monotonous hours. I am going to open myself to all kinds of abuse by now posting it here. Ignore the first rhyme, it's a little weak, but it does feature in the story... If anyone has a stop frame camera they can help me film my 5 minute short.. My only other flash of cinematic genius is a five minute film about the life of a 3ft vegetable named philip the gourd.
Anyway, for your enjoyment and derision, my Burton tribute:
"The boy who lived in the dark"
There once was a boy who lived in the dark
In a room with no windows far from the park.
While the other children played and had fun
This boy stayed alone in the room with no sun.
His table was empty and cupboard threadbare
For he ate only the spiders that dwelt in his lair.
His eyes had adjusted to the dust-darkened gloom
And shone like birght lights in the musty old room.
The reason for which he had kept himself there
was the radiant red flame of his bright orange hair
Its flowing flicker would ignite from draft
And upon seeing it, how the children would laugh.
Their cackles and shrieks had sent him to flight
Up the stairs to the tower he fled from the light.
When removed from the sun his hair did not burn
But nevertheless his heart would still yearn
For love and affection from the children outside
And in that dark dungeon he silently cried.
All of a sudden he had an idea
That would silence the laughter and bring them all near.
This brilliant idea would put his life back on track;
He had decided to dye his hair black.
So from the ledges and door and shelves and floor
He swept up all the dust till there was no more,
Then plunging his head into the knee-deep pile
He extinguished his hair's incandescent fire.
He envisaged himself with his new black mane
And said out aloud "My life's going to change!"
It was time, he decided, to emerge from the dark
So he skipped down the stairs and ran to the park.
When he arrived the laughter had ceased,
Instead someone screamed "What on earth is that beast?!"
The children all yelled and ran for their lives
But he remained still and openly cried.
His tears made a puddle that grew into a lake
And in the rippling waters he saw his mistake:
The reason for which they had all run away
Was that his jet-black hair was in fact grey.
He ran away from the park and away from them all,
The grey-haired boy who had tried to fit in.
Back in his prison he curled up on the floor
And vowed that never would he leave it anymore.
The End
Wow! My headache suddenly subsides.. not only is there the usual purchase-incentive gubbins, ie making of's, directors commentaries, story boards, etc. But what should I see, two of Tim Burton's first films!!! 'Vincent' and 'Frankenweenie'. The latter was made for Disney so I didn't watch that, but I'll get round to it.. Far more interesting was 'Vincent', a five minute short about a boy who wants to be Vincent Price. It's really quite a beautiful animated short, with a narration by Price himself, who reads a Burton poem about a boy who dreams of being Vincent Price. The boy is very nice in reality but dreams of dunking his aunt in wax and living in empty castles... Anyway it's typical gothic Burton stuff and the poem's in the 'Oyster boy' vein of Burton poems.
So I returned to the sanctuary of my bed with a fresh cup of tea and was inspired to write a poem in the style of Mr.Burton to pass the monotonous hours. I am going to open myself to all kinds of abuse by now posting it here. Ignore the first rhyme, it's a little weak, but it does feature in the story... If anyone has a stop frame camera they can help me film my 5 minute short.. My only other flash of cinematic genius is a five minute film about the life of a 3ft vegetable named philip the gourd.
Anyway, for your enjoyment and derision, my Burton tribute:
"The boy who lived in the dark"
There once was a boy who lived in the dark
In a room with no windows far from the park.
While the other children played and had fun
This boy stayed alone in the room with no sun.
His table was empty and cupboard threadbare
For he ate only the spiders that dwelt in his lair.
His eyes had adjusted to the dust-darkened gloom
And shone like birght lights in the musty old room.
The reason for which he had kept himself there
was the radiant red flame of his bright orange hair
Its flowing flicker would ignite from draft
And upon seeing it, how the children would laugh.
Their cackles and shrieks had sent him to flight
Up the stairs to the tower he fled from the light.
When removed from the sun his hair did not burn
But nevertheless his heart would still yearn
For love and affection from the children outside
And in that dark dungeon he silently cried.
All of a sudden he had an idea
That would silence the laughter and bring them all near.
This brilliant idea would put his life back on track;
He had decided to dye his hair black.
So from the ledges and door and shelves and floor
He swept up all the dust till there was no more,
Then plunging his head into the knee-deep pile
He extinguished his hair's incandescent fire.
He envisaged himself with his new black mane
And said out aloud "My life's going to change!"
It was time, he decided, to emerge from the dark
So he skipped down the stairs and ran to the park.
When he arrived the laughter had ceased,
Instead someone screamed "What on earth is that beast?!"
The children all yelled and ran for their lives
But he remained still and openly cried.
His tears made a puddle that grew into a lake
And in the rippling waters he saw his mistake:
The reason for which they had all run away
Was that his jet-black hair was in fact grey.
He ran away from the park and away from them all,
The grey-haired boy who had tried to fit in.
Back in his prison he curled up on the floor
And vowed that never would he leave it anymore.
The End