Release Date: 25 December 2014
Directed by: Tim Burton
Starring: Amy Adams, Christoph Waltz
IMDB: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1126590
My Rating: (4/10) ★★★★✩✩✩✩✩✩
Tim Burton steers Amy Adams far away from nuance in this real-life tale of Margaret Keane, the artist behind the Big Eyes paintings.
Now I understand Tim Burton is Tim BURTON and I'm just me. Great. But as I sat down to watch Big Eyes, I started logging his films--when was the last time I had actually enjoyed watching one? I'll admit I missed Frankenweenie and Dark Shadows, but that's because I hated Alice in Wonderland and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and only mildly enjoyed Corpse Bride and Sweeney Todd. Could Big Fish be the last time I was truly engaged by master Tim Burton's vision? I guess so. And I don't even know if it would still engage me today. I was young, I was fresh. But here, I thought, we have the old Ed Wood team back together, and if it all sucks at least I'll have Lana del Rey to hold me in the dark.
Now I'll spare any further comparison because I truly think there is nothing more tired than pitting an artist's old work against his new work. I'm surely a careerist and if you don't believe me, just check out every Mike Figgis movie in my DVD collection--I'm in it for the long haul baby. I'm canonical.
But back to Big Eyes, right. Old Burton, new Burton....fading, experimenting--nothing could disguise the fact that the script for Big Eyes was still in its infancy. After years of development, perpetually an infant. Years of development, and this is all we get in terms of character? Where's the subtext!? Where's the nuance!? Most importantly, where is the humanity? As a viewer, I felt untrusted when Walter screamed (spoilers) "If you say anything you'll destroy our whole empire!"--because believe me, I got the message in the overacting long before the character said it so plainly. As a viewer, I felt untrusted when DeeAnn boldly marched through Margaret's house toward an earth-shattering finale because she was merely 'interested' in her studio work (seriously, was there no better way to finesse a climax? And for that matter did Margaret not think to move the turpentine as Walter was flicking matches through the keyhole? How convenient!). But if all this was tiresome, certainly the tonal shift in Act III from perfectly production designed (way to go Rick Heinrichs!) light period drama to poorly executed Woody Allen knockoff was distressing at best.
As Lana del Rey held me in the dark....as the movie wrapped itself up succinctly and faux-victoriously, I realized I had no greater insight into the psyche of the two lead characters than whatever I would have casually assumed 106 minutes earlier. The last act did not explore the terror of self-betrayal as Margaret slowly realizes she is complicit in her own obliteration. The last act did not explore Walter's own narcissistic psychopathy or the haunting darkness that must accompany being exposed on an international level. It opted for a tidier, more cliche ending leaving a big void where a big heart should have been.
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