I was standing in line to see his latest film at a huge multiplex theater behind two young girls dressed up in blue jumpers when I decided that I was in a huge fight with Tim Burton. I realized that I’m no longer a part of his target audience.
Growing up, my VHS copies of “Edward Scissorhands” and “The Nightmare Before Christmas” went through brutal repeated viewing. As a result, I bet the images on both tapes would resemble the distorted sea of colors, bizarre noises and thrusting lines one would encounter after accidentally stumbling upon late-night Cinemax.
It’s been a rollercoaster of a past decade being a Burton fan — if I can even really consider myself one anymore.
Burton first proved his difficulties adapting with 2001’s atrocious, unintentionally campy “Planet of the Apes.” The only thing more painful than the film itself was seeing brilliant actress Helena Bonham Carter in primate makeup prosthetics. Although nauseatingly sentimental, Burton’s 2003 fantasy “Big Fish” definitely redeemed his reputation. The only direction in which he could go following “Apes” was up, after all.
Next, with “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory,” Burton dove head first into a new audience demographic: young’uns. It did well financially, but for me, watching the film was tantamount to being trapped in a Chuck E. Cheese ball pit surrounded by the sounds of a marching band that just dropped LSD — and not in a good way. Burton traditionalists were thrilled to see his return to claymation with 2005’s woefully underrated “Corpse Bride.” Then the goth, Hot Topic kids decided to knight “Nightmare’s” Jack the Skeleton King their savior and poster boy for the “Waahhh, I have feelings and wear lots of bracelets” movement. It’s enough to crush the spirit of anyone, especially a true Burton fan.
Over winter break, I went to Burton’s exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art in New York. It was a fantastic show that illuminated Burton’s dark and wicked early animation. It was reassuring following his aforementioned missteps, yet I almost felt tricked after seeing Burton’s “Alice in Wonderland.”
I think “Alice” belongs down in the Burton archive in “Apes” territory. Like “Charlie,” the film has delivered a knockout punch at the box office, especially after riding the tidal wave of 3-D craze generated by “Avatar” months prior. Like “Avatar,” I felt that the visual effects, while rapturous or whatever, are compensating for something. Here, it is characterization, as these characters are about as dimensional as a light switch. Next to “Apes,” this is the director’s least “Tim Burton” and least alive film. It’d be damn near catatonic if the visual effects team didn’t go as batshit crazy as they did.
I should clarify here that I’m not against film revision. There’s nothing wrong with modernizing a classic, but when the director extracts every ounce of the original story’s clever, whimsy and charming chaos and replaces it with formulaic convention, there’s something wrong. Burton’s “Alice” is calculated, plotted and predictable. Everything it shouldn’t be.
What Burton needs to do is consider his older “Edward,” “Batman,” “Vincent,” “Corpse,” and “Nightmare” audience. We’re all still here and we’re all still waiting for something from him that doesn’t feel like a sugar rush — one that doesn’t embarrass us to buy tickets for at theaters. “Same movie as the eight-year-olds in Alice costumes for me!” I propose that Burton takes the heap of cash he’ll acquire with “Alice” and make the dark, creepy and most importantly, R-rated masterpiece he’s got lurking inside his twisted mind somewhere. Forget the kids. They’re going to have robots designed to entertain them soon enough.
You can reach this columnist at thescene@theeagleonline.com.
