EDWARD SCISSORHANDS

By Ray DeRousse / June 25, 2011

Tim Burton Written by: Caroline Thompson (screenplay & story), Tim Burton (story) Starring: Johnny Depp, Winona Ryder, Dianne West, Anthony Michael Hall, Kathy Baker, Alan Arkin, Vincent Price Distributed by 20th Century Fox Film was released December 7th, 1989. Review by Ray DeRousse By 1990, a 32 year-old Tim Burton had established himself as Hollywood's quirky, eccentric cash cow with his three previous smash hits. His feature film debut, a colorful and idiotic masterpiece starring man-child Pee Wee Herman, defied all expectations and became a cult hit in the summer of 1985. Burton followed that in 1988 with Beetlejuice, a zesty and bizarre tale of the afterlife. Then, Burton crafted a gothically art-deco rendition of Batman that became a worldwide phenomenon in 1989. Burton's first three films revealed his gift for visual imagination and creative shot composition. Each film had indelible imagery and editing: the kitchen sequence in Pee Wee's Big Adventure ... the haunted dinner sequence in Beetlejuice ... the museum sequence in Batman. However, all three films also illustrated Burton's inability to connect with his material beyond the visual elements. While all three suffered from poorly-constructed scripts, Burton never attempted to look past the next whiz-bang technical exercise and into the deeper aspects of the story. In other words, his first three films were pretty and shallow.

With Edward Scissorhands, Burton attempted to create a heartfelt story that he could connect with emotionally as well as visually. With similar shocks of black hair - and reclusive personalities to match - Edward was the cinematic equivalent of Burton himself. In essence, Edward Scissorhands was to Burton what E.T. The Extraterrestrial was to a young Steven Spielberg. As most film geeks know, Edward Scissorhands follows the story of a leather-clad robot (?) named Edward, who was created by a kindly and eccentric inventor played by Vincent Price. When the inventor dies, Edward is left alone in the enormous castle on a hill for an untold amount of time before being discovered by an Avon lady named Peg from the surrounding neighborhood below. A warm-hearted woman, Peg takes Edward with her into middle class suburban America in order to "help him." This sets up Edward's clash with a society that cannot understand him, and results in his ultimate rejection by the end of the film. Along the way, however, Edward discovers true love, and helps others to re-engage their sense of wonder. Unsurprisingly, the film is a visual marvel. From the shadows of the ruined attic, to the enormous, elongated staircases, to the poppy, sixties kitsch of suburbia, Edward Scissorhands zings along with colorful settings, moody lighting, and inventive camera angles. The script, a labor of love between Burton and early collaborator Caroline Thompson, revisits familiar Burton territory. Like all of Burton's previous protagonists - Pee Wee, Adam, Barbara, and Lydia from Beetlejuice, and Batman himself - Edward is an outsider who longs to be accepted by others in "normal" society. However, the inclusion of a teenaged love story in Scissorhands strengthened this theme and provides it with an emotional heft lacking in his previous efforts. Once again, Burton shows a knack for perfect casting. His primary stroke of genius was the inclusion of Johnny Depp as the title character. Depp, who was fresh from a long and successful stint as a teen heartthrob on 21 Jump Street, seemed unlikely to handle the bizarre trappings of this character. However, Depp turns in a powerful, commanding performance as Edward. As Burton guessed, Depp's flawless face and soulful eyes sells the character's inherent goodness and naivete, while Depp reveals perfect timing in a role that requires physical precision. This was the beginning of a long - and somewhat ill-fated - partnership between Burton and Depp, one that may have actually ruined potential projects like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and Sweeney Todd ... depending on your point of view.

The rest of the cast, with a few exceptions, turn in note-perfect performances. Dianne Weist is magnificent as Peg, her squinty eyes and warm smile radiating love and and tenderness. Alan Arkin, always just under the acting radar, exemplifies the aloof, cliche-spouting suburban Dad with perfect comic timing. Other standouts include Kathy Baker as an oversexed, polyester-clad neighbor, and O-Lan Jones as religious nutcase Esmerelda. And as the final masterstroke, Burton managed to bring legendary Vincent Price into the movie as the creative inventor. Filmed just months prior to his death, Price brings a classic, fairy-tale air to the film. Try to imagine anyone else reading a story to Edward, and you suddenly realize what Price brings to his small role, and to the film as a whole. The weaker elements of the film begin with two terrible performances. Winona Ryder, already a Burton veteran from her supporting role in Beetlejuice, turns in a bland, lifeless performance as Kim, the Homecoming Queen-turned-Edward-love-interest. Ryder, armed with blond hair almost as incomprehensible as her mumbling whine, quickly becomes intolerable. As it turns out, it is easy to see why she would be attracted to the film's central antagonist Jim, played horribly by Anthony Michael Hall. The character is shoddily written, and Hall portrays him with the subtlety of a derailed train. As he has shown in other films, Burton has control problems with the actors playing the villains in his films. All too often, he allows his actors to overact in these roles; like Hall, we have seen Jack Nicholson overact shamelessly in Batman, and Tim Roth overact in Planet of the Apes. However, most of Burton's films lack a definitive villain - perhaps wisely - but this only weakens Burton's flimsy grasp of dramatic structure. Here, the inclusion of a villain distracts and disrupts the careful tone of the first half of the movie. Even with a strong emotional subject and a dynamic lead performance, Burton fails to dig deeper than the surface for emotional impact. Time and again, Burton fixates on quirky comedic moments or the occasional mocking of contemporary society rather than the penetrating love story at the heart of the film. While Burton gets the correct tone for Edward's feeling of alienation, he rarely manages to build a believable romance that fuels the second half of the film. It is this second half that ultimately reduces the power of Edward Scissorhands. Rather than carefully craft a meaningful third act, Burton and Thompson instead rely on clumsy plot contrivances - Jim using Edward to break into his Dad's house, the townspeople chasing Edward to the castle, and the final confrontation - that are completely out-of-touch with the rest of the film. In particular, Edward's killing of Jim is reprehensible considering what has been previously established, and is a cop-out at best. Burton here shows a weakness that has plagued many of his films; his inability to navigate a story through to a satisfying conclusion has, in my mind, ruined films like Mars Attacks, Planet of the Apes, and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Much of the emotional weight that helps rectify these problems comes from a masterful score by composer Danny Elfman. The former leader of pop group Oingo Boingo, a frequent Burton collaborator, here produces his finest score to date. Tender, pensive, and romantic, Elfman provides a lush, yearning soundtrack that perfectly captures the emotions Burton strives for in his images. Even during the uneven third act, Elfman glosses over many problems with his operatic choruses and plucky strings. Despite its shallowness and major third-act troubles, Edward Scissorhands has continued to resonate with audiences in the years since its release. Much of this can be attributed to Depp's sensitive lead performance, Elfman's grandiose themes, and Burton's keen visual eye. However, like many of Burton's films, Scissorhands remains a visual delight - and an emotionally detached experience. Much like Edward himself, we are left wide-eyed in wonder ... and unable to touch a thing. This is the third of our long running Spotlight on Tim Burton series. Next up will be Paul W.J. Martin's take on the creative labor of love that was A Nightmare Before Christmas. You can read Matt Holmes' article on Batman by clicking HERE. You can read Chris Daniels' article on Beetlejuice by clicking HERE.