![]() The Golden Age of Looney Tunes, Volume 1, the first of five anthologies released by MGM in the early ’90s that escorted Warner Bros.’s most cherished animated shorts into the digital realm, fascinated me with its irreverent yet instructive taxonomy and unabashed historical quirks. ![]() (The jaggedly deliberate, but somehow graceful, movements of Henry Selick’s macabre figures both announced and apologized for their painstaking genesis these herky-jerky fingerprints add as much to the organic milieu as Danny Elfman’s unforgettable leitmotifs.) But the other boxed set was a different kind of reference source entirely, albeit no less hipped to the narrative of technical innovation and stylistic confidence. ![]() The first of these-a what-was-then high-quality, CAV transfer of The Nightmare Before Christmas, accompanied by a cavalcade of behind-the-scenes supplements-insinuated that meticulous craftsmanship could be, rather than simply influence, cinematic content. My understanding of animation as something more than a Saturday-morning distraction deserving only half of one’s attention was shaped by my father’s purchasing of two laserdisc boxed sets while I was in the sixth grade.
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