The sneak preview of Tim Burton's new Corpse Bride tonight at the Memorial Union was well worth the hour and a half wait. Beautiful. Cool. Creepy.

Gothic in tone and setting, yet with a lighthearted tone: such a Burton balance. Johnny Depp gives voice to the frail, pale, and nervous groom Victor. Emily Watson is Victoria, his similarly frail and pale (though decidedly less nervous) arranged bride-to-be. Helena Bonham Carter is Emily, the bride of the title, who has the best excuse to be frail (bits of her keeps falling off) and pale (a lovely shade of deathly blue).

The world of the living, of Victor, Victoria, and their dreadful parents, is colorless and drab. Blacks, whites, and greys prevade the tonal palette. It's a place of arroganes, stiff manners, and greed. Contrasted to this is the underworld. The land of the dead is brightly colored, raucous and warm.

Much of the plot is telegraphed far in advance, but since it really is a melodrama that isn't a flaw. It's like watching a silent film--you know that the man with the curly black mustache will tie the beautiful and pure heroine to the railroad track at some point, and you know that the dashing hero will be along to save her just in the nick of time. Surprise isn't the important part. (You want twists, watch an M. Night Shyamalan film.) Still, I'm not going to tell you what happens.)

The movie is far from being silent, however. Like The Nightmare Before Christmas, Corpse Bride is a musical. I'd love to report that I came home humming all the tunes, but alas I can remember none of them. This is more the fault of the sound in the Fredric March Play Circle than of Danny Elfman. The musical numbers were a wee bit garbled out of the speakers, so I spent all my attention trying to catch the lyrics.

The movie will open in regular theaters on Friday, and I can definitely recommend it.