Tim Burton's whimsical fable is a visually exotic parody of small town values, exploring themes such as loneliness and conformity; a very unusual horror film; and a simple tragedy to boot. With minimal plot but coherent vision and child-like wonder, Burton has made a film whose view of the world resembles few others. What he has not done is made a masterpiece.
Some films build fantasy elements into the real world, and explore what might happen if such a thing came true: 'The Truman Show', and 'Being John Malkovich', are two obvious examples of this genre. But Tim Burton does not make films like that. Even his most realistic work (e.g. Ed Wood) takes place in a world that at times appears to be wholly imaginative. This is not necessarily good. It means that one cannot look for ordinary human motivations and actions in his stories: in this film, for example, a small American town lies in the shadow of a Gothic castle which not one of its inhabitants has ever visited until a cosmetics saleswoman dares to make a call; and at many subsequent turns, the actions of the characters just don't square with what anyone real would actually do if confronted with a boy with scissors for hands. At one level, this complaint is petty: the story is, after all, a mere fairy tale. But this is precisely the point. Though visually highly original, the film's comments about modern society can only be in a morally obvious fashion: the behaviour of the protagonists too stylised and contrived to allow for anything more subtle. Which leaves you at moments the feeling you are watching little more than a live action version of Wallace and Grommit (with fewer jokes to boot; though the film is quite effective in spinning out its only real gag).
All Burton's films place style (albeit in quite a deep sense) over substance; the creation of a form over what goes on inside. The strength of Edward Scissorhands lies in its simplicity; and in the bewilderment in Johnny Depp's eyes (even if he does resemble Malcolm McLaren!). Without pretence, it eventually draws you into its beautiful, but two-dimensional, world.
Some films build fantasy elements into the real world, and explore what might happen if such a thing came true: 'The Truman Show', and 'Being John Malkovich', are two obvious examples of this genre. But Tim Burton does not make films like that. Even his most realistic work (e.g. Ed Wood) takes place in a world that at times appears to be wholly imaginative. This is not necessarily good. It means that one cannot look for ordinary human motivations and actions in his stories: in this film, for example, a small American town lies in the shadow of a Gothic castle which not one of its inhabitants has ever visited until a cosmetics saleswoman dares to make a call; and at many subsequent turns, the actions of the characters just don't square with what anyone real would actually do if confronted with a boy with scissors for hands. At one level, this complaint is petty: the story is, after all, a mere fairy tale. But this is precisely the point. Though visually highly original, the film's comments about modern society can only be in a morally obvious fashion: the behaviour of the protagonists too stylised and contrived to allow for anything more subtle. Which leaves you at moments the feeling you are watching little more than a live action version of Wallace and Grommit (with fewer jokes to boot; though the film is quite effective in spinning out its only real gag).
All Burton's films place style (albeit in quite a deep sense) over substance; the creation of a form over what goes on inside. The strength of Edward Scissorhands lies in its simplicity; and in the bewilderment in Johnny Depp's eyes (even if he does resemble Malcolm McLaren!). Without pretence, it eventually draws you into its beautiful, but two-dimensional, world.