Vincent Malloy tiene siete años

Una vez instalados en las incómodas butacas de los míticos cines Van Golem para ver Pesadilla antes de Navidad, de Tim Burton, y en uno de los raros y mágicos momentos en los que una sala de cine se digna en sacrificar unos minutos de publicidad a cambio de poner un corto, tuve la suerte de poder ver el corto de Vincent, la historia de un muchacho atormentado que bien podría ser el mismísimo Burton. De los mejores recuerdos que tengo estando en un cine, con la voz de ultratumba del propio Vincent Price. Siéntense y disfruten.

Vincent Malloy is seven years old,
He's always polite and does what he's told.
For a boy his age he's considerate and nice,
But he wants to be just like Vincent Price.



He doesn't mind living with his sister, dog and cat,
Though he'd rather share a home with spiders and bats.
There he could reflect on the horrors he's invented,
And wander dark hallways alone and tormented.



Vincent is nice when his aunt comes to see him,
But imagines dipping her in wax for his wax museum.
He likes to experiment on his dog Abacrombie,
In the hopes of creating a horrible zombie.



So he and his horrible zombie dog,
Could go searching for victims in the London fog.
His thoughts aren't only of ghoulish crime,
He likes to paint and read to pass the time.



While other kids read books like Go Jane Go,
Vincent's favorite author is Edgar Allen Poe.
One night while reading a gruesome tale,
He read a passage that made him turn pale.



Such horrible news he could not survive,
For his beautiful wife had been buried alive.
He dug out her grave to make sure she was dead,
Unaware that her grave was his mother's flower bed.



His mother sent Vincent off to his room,
He knew he'd been banished to the tower of doom.
Where he was sentenced to spend the rest of his life,
Alone with a portrait of his beautiful wife.



While alone and insane, encased in his tomb,
Vincent's mother suddenly burst into the room.
"If you want to you can go outside and play.
It's sunny outside and a beautiful day."



Vincent tried to talk, but he just couldn't speak,
The years of isolation had made him quite weak.
So he took out some paper, and scrawled with a pen,
"I am possessed by this house, and can never leave it again."



His mother said, "You're not possessed, and you're not almost dead.
These games that you play are all in your head.
You're not Vincent Price, you're Vincent Malloy.
You're not tormented or insane, you're just a young boy."

"You're seven years old, and you're my son,
I want you to get outside and have some real fun."
Her anger now spent, she walked out through the hall,
While Vincent backed slowly against the wall.



The room started to sway, to shiver and creak.
His horrid insanity had reached its peak.



He saw Abacrombie his zombie slave,
And heard his wife call from beyond the grave.



She spoke from her coffin, and made ghoulish demands.
While through cracking walls reached skeleton hands.

Every horror in his life that had crept through his dreams,
Swept his mad laugh to terrified screams.

To escape the madness, he reached for the door,
But fell limp and lifeless down on the floor.



His voice was soft and very slow,
As he quoted The Raven from Edgar Allen Poe,
"And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor,
Shall be lifted - Nevermore!"

¿Qué es? ¿Qué es?

La ciudad de Halloween celebra su fiesta como cada año. Sus habitantes, hombres-lobo, brujas, payasos diabólicos, vampiros y el monstruo que acecha debajo de tu cama, ponen todo su empeño para que sea un éxito. Pero una vez acabada, Jack, el Rey de Halloween, descubre que hay algo extraño más allá del pueblo, algo que apenas alcanza a creer lo que ven las cuencas vacías de sus ojos. Un lugar donde caramelos y adornos cuelgan de los abetos nevados, donde los calcetines cuelgan de la repisa de la chimenea a la espera de que los llenen de regalos, y donde unas luces titilantes y las risas de los niños alegran los hogares. Jack comprende que le falta algo para ser feliz, que necesita comprender ese espíritu para dar sentido a su vida, que los demás tienen pero de lo cual él carece.

En un arrebato de entusiasmo trata de cambiarlo todo, trayendo a su ciudad de Halloween el espíritu de la Navidad. Pero no todo es tan fácil como se imaginaba Jack. En la faceta más timburtoniana del personaje se encuentra con que los demás no le comprenden, y sólo se encuentra con dificultades. El intento acaba siendo un fracaso, y acaba con Jack derribado, sujetado delicadamente por los brazos de un ángel en el cementerio.

Jack, sumido en una profunda tristeza, no ha conseguido comprender por qué en la ciudad de la Navidad todo el mundo está alegre, por qué todo es de colores, por qué la gente ríe. Este personaje de reminiscencias shakespirianas (sobre todo cuando habla con su calavera) termina tratando de aceptar su condición, de aceptarse a sí mismo y se da cuenta de, por ser quién es en realidad, se ha equivocado completamente.

Invadido por una tristeza intemporal, por el querer y no poder, entona un triste lamento.

What have I done?
What have I done?
How could I be so blind?
All is lost, where was I?
Spoiled all, spoiled all
Everything's gone all wrong

What have I done?
What have I done?
Find a deep cave to hide in
In a million years they'll find me
Only dust and a plaque
That reads, 'Here Lies Poor Old Jack"

But I never intended all this madness, never
And nobody really understood, well how could they?
That all I ever wanted was to bring them something great
Why does nothing ever turn out like it should?

Jack está solo. ¿Quién se apiadará del pobre Jack?