I am a massive film fan – though I have long since veered out of buff territory, my DVD collection is snapping at the heels of the books (a ratio of 10:4) – and yet I cannot say I have ever succumbed to directorphilia.

That is, chasing movies less because of the content and more because of the director.

Until now, that is, as a penchant emerges rendering me incapable of identifying a Tim Burton creation that doesn’t utterly captivate and enthrall.

I adore dark fairy tales and as a child would gobble up Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Andersen yarns like literary bon-bons.

Andersen was by far my favourite: his tales have since succumbed to the rose-tinted fluff rendered by Disney and accordingly the real genius has been lost.

That torture and pain could lie side-by-side with love and dreams is darkly beautiful.

A much-leafed favourite remains The Little Mermaid, and inevitably I abhor that Ariel continues to thrash about in a kaleidoscopic subaqua world resplendent with talking crabs.

Rather, I relish that the Little Mermaid casts herself into the sea, dissolving into foam, so that her prince might live.

Equally, The Steadfast Tin Soldier never failed to bring a tear to by child eyes, while The Snow Queen was ghastly to perfection for a young girl growing up in the snowy German winters.

It follows without little surprise then, that the release of early images from Burton’s forthcoming Alice in Wonderland (2010) induce a frisson of excitement.

I adore the darkness, the Gothic undertones and eeriness infused into the tiniest detail.

To date, my favourite is Corpse Bride (2005) adapted from a 19th century Russian folktale, and while I am averse to multiple viewings of films, this particular one has been spun perhaps ten times, if not more.

Though oxymorons, there is a delicate beauty to be found the tragedy of such tales and a soothing discomfort  to be drawn from their cold darkness.

There aren’t nearly enough dark fairy tales emerging from contemporary literature:  sure, there’s horror and magic for adults and children alike.

But truly prodigious would be a return to the fiendishly brilliant styles of Poe, Andersen, and the Grimms.

For the very fact that life is not pink fluff and happy endings to a cracking show tune, I will always be a devotee of the macabre and shall continue to rub my hands with malevolent glee until the release of Alice in Wonderland.