“There’s an empty place in my bones, that calls out for something unknown,” Jack Skellington sings in “Jack’s Lament” from The Nightmare Before Christmas. Held in my heart, this lyric has always inspired me to run after my dreams and go beyond what is expected in life.
Director and artist Tim Burton has always made me feel I am a part of his fantasy worlds. From a young age, his characters were my friends and my introduction to true love, friendship and what it means to live in your imagination.
In 1983, when Burton was working as an animator for Disney, he pitched the idea, based on a poem, of a skeleton who rules a world of Halloween but longs to try and make his own version of Christmas, according to Screen Rant. Disney told him that a film focusing on a skeleton was too dark and had never been done before.
Still, Burton never gave up on his characters because he knew his world would speak to those who feel on the outside in life, and his motivation has inspired me to never give up on my creations and to realize that being a bit “outside” can be a beautiful thing.
In Burton’s poetry collection, “The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy,” which is one of my favorite works by him and sits on my bedroom wall, it reads, “From superhero to garden gnome, amongst things old and forgotten, he felt quite at home.” Burton and his characters strive to be different, and they help us see the beauty in ourselves and all things.
Burton has 19 films in his discography, and I love all of them in their own way. For example, Jack Skellington helped me realize I always wanted to go outside of my comfort zone, and I should never be afraid or listen to those who try and stop me. And Sally, my favorite fictional character of all time, taught me to love widely, be strong in my own might and be unapologetically myself.
Edward Scissorhands taught me it’s okay to be different. What you see as flaws are really what make you special, and someone will love you despite them.
Burton’s short film, Vincent, narrated by his childhood idol, iconic horror actor Vincent Price, taught me to work hard to be whatever I want in life and to never stop dreaming.
I appreciate Beetlesjuice’s satire on the afterlife and the way it perfectly encapsulates the funky, fresh and fun feel of the 80s — one of my favorite film eras of all time.
Frankenweenie beautifully highlights the everlasting bond between a child and their dog and the fears we have of growing up. This film always made me think of myself and my poodle, Sammie, who has been my best friend and the other half of my heart since the fourth grade.
Corpse Bride, my favorite film of all time, taught me that we have to let go of what we love most, and change can be beautiful.
The music in these films was a driving force inspiring my own songwriting as I grew up. I will forever admire Burton’s partnership with composer Danny Elfman and how they create worlds and stories that are miles long, said in a three-minute song. “Sally’s Song,” “Jack’s Lament” and the score from Edward Scissorhands such as the song “Ice Dance,” are some of my favorite songs of all time.
I have participated in many Burton events. I dressed up for the Frankenweenie premiere at the El Capitan Theater in Hollywood, visited Burton’s art display and museum in Las Vegas, saw Danny Elfman in concert — and forced my family to wait in line at Disneyland for a Jack and Sally meet and greet.
I obviously know this is not the real Jack — but what is magical to me is that the real Jack doesn’t have to exist; he lives inside my heart; and he can be different for everybody.
While Burton’s characters may only represent Halloween to some, these characters are my friends year-round. I live in these worlds every month. But, boy am I glad to see skeleton heads and little lights on threads rise from the snow this season — spooky and aglow.
“Don’t worry about how you ‘should’ draw it; draw it the way you see it,” Burton once said.
This is the way I hope to live my life. Always and forever.
Happy Halloween from the News team.
Below is a poem I wrote for Jack and Sally.
“An Odd Pair Under the Stars and Buried in Snow: A Poem for Jack and Sally”
Can’t understand why snow hits the ground,
to a skeleton, being dead is surely fun all year round.
Can the deceased find love like the rest of us?
Or is she just a doll? Merely puppy love?
Why are light and joy so hard to understand?
Surely ghosts have friends, someone to lend a boney hand.
What happens when the going gets hard?
You sing to your love under the stars of a graveyard.
You missed her, she was there all along!
You didn’t listen when she sang her song.
She thought it was never to become,
but you knew she was the only one.
You saw her out of the corner of your eye,
like you saw the world while you sailed through the sky.
Do you know what she truly longs for?
For you to love her as no one has before.
You waited your whole life to be simply meant to be,
to her heart, you hold the key.
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Follow the Graphic on Twitter: @PeppGraphic
Email Beth Gonzales: beth.gonzales@pepperdine.edu
