32 years ago, Henry Selick's The Nightmare Before Christmas had its wide theatrical release. What began as a short poem with a few early character sketches by Tim Burton, was shaped by the contributions of many incredible artists into the cult classic we know. From Michael McDowell's initial draft to the final screenplay of Caroline Thompson (who also had concerns about the racist stereotype undertones of Oogie Boogie) that greatly expanded upon the original ideas, turned Jack’s curiosity into an existential search for meaning, and added emotional depth and complexity to the characters.
Sally wasn't part of Burton's original poem, existing only as a vague idea in sketch form. It's Thompson who created her entire arc, from her initially unrequited love to her desire for freedom and finding herself beyond what she was told she should be, serving as the heart of the film. The film’s characteristic gothic and whimsical aesthetic also owes its final form to the combined genius of visual consultant Rick Heinrichs, cinematographer Pete Kozachik, and art director Deane Taylor.
It took 3 years, over 200 meticulously crafted puppets, and an entire team of animators, puppet builders, and lighting designers to make TNBC what it is. Beyond the characters, the story, and the music, the film is also a prime example of the artistry of movie making and practical effects, and the magic of stop-motion animation.
59 years today since "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown" was released back in 1966. On the surface, it might appear like a whimsical cartoon about a young kid’s belief in the Halloween version of a Santa-like entity. However, the animated short isn’t a mockery of Linus but more of a sincere depiction of his innocence. At its core, it's a deeper exploration of disappointment, the several different forms that faith can take, perseverance, small acts of kindness, and holding on to hope despite failure.
The scenes where Linus promises to put in a good word for his friends with the Great Pumpkin, even after they mock him, when Lucy thinks to ask for extra candy for him because he missed trick-or-treating, and later goes to find him, brings him home and tucks him into bed, highlight Schulz’s characteristic avoidance of cynicism in favour of a more tender approach, even when tackling darker, melancholic themes.
According to his longtime collaborator Lee Mendelson, Charles Schulz always felt badly about the reality that many children from disadvantaged families don’t always get what they wish for during the holidays. Something that partly shaped Linus’s unshakeable belief in the Great Pumpkin, his enduring hope, and the underlying message: “You keep going, and you don’t give up.”
I have been a fan of James Tynion IV's approach to mystery and supernatural horror ever since I got the first volume of 'The Woods' in my hands, so naturally I've been meaning to give 'Something is Killing the Children' a read for a while, especially with the hype surrounding it, and the first omnibus of the series was a really good place to start.
The book is a hefty 512 pages long and includes the first 20 issues, covering both 'The Archer's Peak Saga' and the 'Me and My Monster' storylines. Without revealing too much, the story begins with the strange disappearances and gruesome murders of several children in a small Wisconsin town, killed by horrific monsters that are somehow invisible to adults. Enter Erica Slaughter, a mysterious young woman who can somehow both see and harm the monsters arriving to help.
This is most definitely a horror story, and it doesn't hold back with the gore and the violence, but at the same time it never feels exploitative or misanthropic. It depicts some pretty brutal and violent events, but it also acknowledges the tragedy and grief experienced by those left behind. The mystery surrounding the monsters attacking the children, and Erica herself, is the center of the plot, and it becomes very clear from the start that nobody is safe, but it's also pretty much a character-driven story as well.
Beyond the intrigue of the main plot, what makes the book work even more is that Erica is also a really likeable protagonist, as she balances being a no-nonsense badass who has seen a lot with actually genuinely caring about the people she is trying to help. Even if her ways are often risky and unorthodox, her heart seems to be in the right place. She is flawed but sympathetic. In fact, most of the smaller characters are treated with nuance, and even if they don't stick around for long, it doesn't feel like they were there only to serve as expendable plot devices.
The art, illustrated by Werther Dell'Edera and coloured by Miquel Muerto works perfectly in amplifying the eerie vibe of the story, and the pacing of the plot keeps you reading to find out what happens next. It's hard to praise the book more without giving away spoilers, but what I can say is that 'Something Is Killing the Children' definitely lived up to the hype for me.
A big thank you to BOOM! Studios for providing me with a review copy.
It pretty much covers Schulz's entire life, from his early childhood experiences and him serving in WWII, to achieving his dream of becoming a cartoonist, his work process, his inspirations, his divorce, how he found love again at 50, and his special connection with his fans. There's also lots of interesting, and often touching, trivia included, like Snoopy and Charlie Brown's historical ties to the Apollo 11 moon landing, and the fact that 'Snoopy' is the name that his mum suggested they give their next dog, before she died.
The Manga biography of Charles M. Schulz is more or less tailored for younger readers, but can honestly be enjoyed by anyone who loves Schulz and his work. Much like the 'Peanuts' comics, the book is endearing and charming, but not saccharine, it doesn't gloss over things like the loss of his mother, the way the Second World War affected him, the failures and rejections that came before 'Peanuts' was eventually picked up, or his struggle with anxiety and depression. I loved both the unique approach of telling Schulz’s story through the manga medium, and the way it serves as a sincere tribute to both the creator himself and his work.
It may not include every detail the way a full-on written biography would, but after finishing this manga one will certainly have a pretty good idea about who Charles Schulz was and how much of himself he poured into all of his characters, as well as how his life experiences, the people he cared about, his personal mental health struggles, his perspective on sadness, loneliness, hopefulness, and his intentional rejection of cynicism were reflected in his work. Big thank you to UDON Entertainment for giving me a review copy.
I discovered 'Resident Alien' relatively recently and ended up watching all 4 seasons back-to-back as it became my most recent casual comfort watch. I came to this show not knowing much about it, drawn by the concept of a sci-fi comedy involving an alien crash landing on earth and posing as the local doctor of a small town, and by my particular soft spot for Alan Tudyk.
It's not without its imperfections, it has the occasional sitcomy inconsistencies and character development that doesn't always stick around for the next episode, but all in all it's a funny and heartwarming watch. The plot is defined by its silliness, and even though some storylines get a little too ridiculous, it keeps you invested because of the endearing characters and the plot points that are glued together by wholesomeness, heart, and some very human moments. And despite being cancelled, the series gets a satisfying, if bittersweet conclusion that feels true to its spirit.
I liked that beyond the alien shenanigans the show's main focus remained on the little things that brought the characters together and the importance of human connection in general. I liked that it features two married people who are actually in love after years of being together, genuinely care for each other, and resolve their problems with healthy communication instead of resorting to the usual comedic tropes of constant bickering and misunderstandings. I liked how sisterhood and female friendships were portrayed, and how it showed that messy, flawed people can form healthy bonds, grow, learn, and reinvent themselves. I also liked the fact that Linda Hamilton had a recurring guest role as a no-nonsense badass.
'Resident Alien' doesn't set to answer any big philosophical questions, and it doesn't take itself too seriously, but at the same time, in all its weirdness, it manages to provide some good laughs, make a little bit of a sociopolitical commentary, and tell a story on how even if there are many horrible things in the world, there is a lot of good in humanity too.
It is very distinctive of Schulz's storytelling how Charlie Brown's wanting to buy the sad-looking tree in 'A Charlie Brown Christmas' isn't played for laughs. It reflects the tendency that a lot of people who feel like underdogs have to pick the lonely-looking toy on the shelf as kids, or to adopt the "difficult" pet who needs more patience and attention as adults. It's not a joke at the expense of the gentleness of Charlie brown, but a reminder of that innate ability to recognise our specific kind of loneliness in someone else, and the understanding that being sad and imperfect doesn't make someone less deserving of love, or less capable of offering it, either.
Not many works of pop culture can truly claim the characterisation of 'timeless', but nobody can deny that Charles M. Schulz's characters and stories definitely fit the bill. There's a distinctive innocence in those comics that never turns into sugar-coated naivety. They are funny and quirky, but never become mean-spirited. Sometimes they get dark, but never turn cynical. They show little funny snippets of the lives of their protagonists, but without ever punching down. They depict a world where themes of failure, loneliness, and depression can coexist with silliness, love, and hope. Pretty much like real life.
Copyright © 2013-2025 All Rights Reserved
