‘The Nightmare Before Christmas’ (PG)

Disney takes an ambitious turn for the weird with Tim Burton's "The Nightmare Before Christmas," an animated musical so twisted that the studio has released it under its adult Touchstone logo -- all the easier to differentiate this movie from neoclassics like "Aladdin" and "Beauty and the Beast." Of course, anyone familiar with Burton's previous films won't be expecting a glossy retelling of a fairy tale. His dazzlingly brilliant "Nightmare" -- directed by Henry Selick -- is more of a postmodern fractured fable, one he scribbled as a poem-script 10 years ago when he and Selick were working as Disney animators.

Kissable cousin to Dr. Seuss's "How the Grinch Stole Christmas," Burton's tale could have been titled "When the Pumpkin King Hijacked Christmas." It follows the misguided efforts by Jack Skellington, who is to Halloween what Santa Claus is to late December, to inject a little excitement into his life after another boring preparation for fright night with the sleazy, slimy denizens of Halloweentown. When a wandering Jack stumbles across Christmastown, he digs its colors and spirit of anticipation and decides he wants in -- even if it means kidnapping Santa and putting him on ice.

"This year, Christmas will be ours," he promises.

Unfortunately, Jack doesn't quite get Christmas, and neither do his buddies. The flawed execution ranges from a coffin-shaped sled pulled by skeletal robo-reindeer to gifts that terrify their recipients: shrunken heads, toy ducks peppered with bullet holes, pre-crashed cars and snakes that devour Christmas trees. At one point, horrified citizens call out the military to shoot down the Christmas Eve intruder from the skies. This is clearly not typical Disney animation fare, though Burton had enough sense to slide into a happy ending.

The passage of time from the movie's germination to execution has benefited everyone. Technological advances have elevated the stop-motion animation form used here to dazzling heights: "Nightmare" has a texture and fluidity, as well as scale, that stop-motion pioneers Ray Harryhausen and George Pal would envy and appreciate.

More importantly, Burton's irreverent and frankly odd worldview has been established well enough that elements of the new film are set up in its predecessors. "Nightmare" is not as dark as "Batman" (particularly its sequel, which also had a seasonal motif). It's not as light as "Beetlejuice." It's not as maudlin as "Edward Scissorhands." It's not as cloyingly kinetic as "Pee-wee's Big Adventure." But elements of all those films figure in "Nightmare," just as Disney's legacy of animated features is wittily referenced.

At the same time, Burton has created his own skewed world, one that suggests a kinship to a number of tricksters, among them Charles Addams, Edward Gorey, Gahan Wilson, Maurice Sendak and Roald Dahl. This is a modern classic that enriches the Christmas tradition by turning it on its head and spinning it like a bob.

Although "Nightmare" is densely populated, it's Jack Skellington who must carry the film -- and he's a truly wonderful creation, a spindly, formally attired skeleton who moves with the elegance of Fred Astaire and gets into as much trouble as Beetlejuice. With his baseball-like head and a stitch of a mouth, Jack's more engaging than frightening, an often morose sophisticate who has a way with words (thanks to the script by Caroline Thompson, who also wrote "Edward Scissorhands").

As for a voice, Jack has two: Chris Sarandon's when he speaks, and Danny Elfman's when he sings. Elfman has created yet another outstanding orchestral score, and also contributed 10 songs that are more theatrically solid than recent million-selling Disney numbers. There's depth to Elfman's score -- and cleverness (listen for the minor-key "Jingle Bells" in Halloweentown).