There are very few mainstream directors working today whose style is as immediately recognizable as Tim Burton's. He is a man obsessed – and many would say, possessed – by the macabre, the romantic and the grotesque, sensibilities that entwine themselves through the DNA of his every project, no matter how innocuous the subject matter.
But Burton has been regarded as a ‘one for the studios, one for me’ kinda guy, and arguably his smaller, more personal efforts triumph over the larger blockbusters. Of late, the underwhelming combo of Alice in Wonderland and Dark Shadows have left us wondering if the director can still capture his particular brand of dark magic in a bottle. Fortunately, the upcoming stop-motion pic Frankenweenie proves that not only is the master of the macabre back, he’s still got plenty of bite.
Here, we celebrate the best of the wild-haired maestro.
Frankenweenie, while small in scope, is indeed a triumphant return to form for Burton. It's also immediately familiar, an amalgamation of ‘Burtonisms’ from a number of his previous works: a black and white palate, stop-motion-animation, a rousing Danny Elfman score and a plasticine Winona Ryder looking uncannily (and slightly unnervingly) like a young Lydia Deetz. Even our hero’s hometown feels familiar, evoking Edward Scissorhands' whitewashed '70s-style suburbia. For Burton loyalists, there are a ton of nostalgic delights to be found in the shadows.
Like Burton's earlier Ed Wood, Frankenweenie is a loving tribute to the horror features of yesteryear, peppered with characters modeled on iconic horror creatures and clever visual nods to creature-features. Frankenweenie is a film rich in detail - unsurprising, considering it took 33 animators to produce five seconds of film per week - and crafted with real cohesion. Most importantly, at Frankenweenie's heart is a very simple and touching story about a boy's love for his dog, that will resonate with anyone who's ever owned - and lost - a pup of their own.
Kids loved the ‘80s comedy classic Beetlejuice, although very few would dare say his name three times afterwards, so repulsive (and terrifically manic) was Michael Keaton’s central performance. The tale of a recently deceased couple’s encounter with a sleazy scare consultant is Burton at his sardonic best, delivering the kind of sharp-edged piss-take of American suburbanites he would return to time and time again.
Beetlejuice is also one of Burton’s more bizarre efforts, his vision of the afterlife at once horrific and hilarious, and ripe for some of the most memorable sequences in Burton history ('Day-o' and the sandworm spring immediately to mind.) And while Keaton undoubtedly steals the show, the rest of the cast is excellent; from Winona Ryder’s 'one big dark room' emo teenager to Catherine O’Hara’s shrill artistic visionary. Brilliant, surreal stuff.
The sheer inventiveness of Burton’s second Batman outing is overwhelming, as if Burton had shrugged his shoulders and said 'screw it' after the slightly more tempered 1989 original. Batman Returns' Gotham City is a schizo-never-never land, populated with sideshow freaks who choose to exhume their issues by donning rubber suits or building penguin armies. It’s an unadulterated and utterly unique take on the Batman universe, and fascinates despite an unapologetic departure from the continuity of the comics.
While Batman Returns may not be remembered for its entirely cohesive narrative, it is remembered for its brilliant characters - Danny DeVito is indelible as the cackling Penguin, and Michelle Phieffer's purring Catwoman fast-tracked many kids into an early puberty. Further, it’s a visual wonder, with an aesthetic so quintessentially Burton; gothic architecture, shadowy alleyways, melancholy snowstorms and all.
Edward Scissorhands was Burton’s fist movie developed on his own, and remains his most haunting. The movie is an intoxicating blend of Burton’s aesthetic style and the most crystallized expression of a theme that was to be repeated throughout his later work; the outsider struggling to fit in.
As Edward, Johnny Depp is an exercise in pathos, his sweet-nature spiked with moments of frustration and rage at his inability to be normal (“hold me?” “I can’t.”) Of course, his uniqueness is what makes him so special, and therein lies the obvious comparison to Burton himself, who has always perceived himself as an outsider - a troubled artist - looking in. Topped off with one of the more heartbreaking scores from Danny Elfman, Edward Scissorhands is a triumph.
Ed Wood is one of Tim Burton’s most sweet-tempered films, focused on the notorious ‘auteur’ of the ‘50s, Edward Davis Wood, Jr. Burton had found something of a soulmate in the famously eccentric wannabe-visionary; like Burton, Wood was obsessed with cinema, finding pleasure in every frame – albeit completely without taste. The black and white film never mocks, rather, joyfully plays tribute to Wood’s bizarre character and career.
As the titular Wood, Johnny Depp proved to the world he was more than just a soulful dramatic actor, turning in the kind of freewheeling, all-in performance that foreshadowed Jack Sparrow. But it's Martin Landau who ultimately steals the show as ‘ex-boogeyman’ Bela Lugosi, the melancholy, egotistical horror legend who spent his final years starring in Wood's disasters. This is Burton at his most introspective, Burton at his most nostalgic, and Burton at his best.
How would you rank Burton's films? What should be on here that isn't? Let us know in the comments.
Lucy O'Brien is Assistant Editor at IGN AU. You should talk to her about games, horror movies and the TV show Freaks & Geeks on IGN here, find her on Twitter here or meet the rest of the Australian team by joining the IGN Australia Facebook community.
Source : ign[dot]com
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