Anyone who knows me knows how much I love this movie. It's the film that originally sparked my interest in movies, and though my adoration of Tim Burton has faded substantially since I first saw Big Fish, my feeling towards the film itself remains. There's a strong argument to be made for Edward Scissorhands as Burton's best film, but I think the emotions in Big Fish, though certainly less fantastical, are much stronger as they dig at the the legacy man leaves behind after he has passed, and what it means to truly love someone.
Tim Burton is characterized by his macabre characters and otherworldly settings, but Big Fish (and Ed Wood) doesn't fall under that umbrella... exactly. There's the madcap circus headed by a werewolf ringmaster and his gun-toting clown, the utopian town of Spectre, which boasts the greenest grasses and the sweetest pies, and the prescient one-eyed witch who turns into a sweet piano teacher. It's still got a magical touch to it, but the film is ultimately grounded in reality, playing on the strains in a father-son relationship. There's a sweet balance stuck between drama, comedy, romance, and fantasy, all spliced fluidly together with one hell of a story.
We first meet Edward Bloom as an old man, played by Albert Finney. He's charismatic and charms everyone with his stories, except for his frustrated son, Will (Billy Crudup). The story cuts back and forth between flashbacks from Edward's earlier life and the present day, where he is on his deathbed, trying to reconnect with his estranged son. It all starts with his memorable birth, where he quite literally shoots into the world headfirst. The movie takes a little bit to build up steam, but once Edward leaves his small-pond town (that is highly reminiscent of the suburban setting from Edward Scissorhands) to greet the real world, it quickly becomes Burton's most likable film in ten years. Ewan Mcgregor is young Edward Bloom, and his smile is so frequent and goofy that it's impossible not to like him. Even as he ages, that likability sticks, but is combined with the cantankerous qualities of a man in the autumn of his life. By chance, Edward has a brief encounter with a beautiful girl in a blue dress: Sandra Templeton (Alison Lohman, who ages seamlessly into Jessica Lange). He explains that when you meet the love of your life, time stops, but when it starts back up again, everything quickens to make up for the lost time. Because of this, Edward loses Sandra in the crowd, but is determined to do whatever it takes to find and marry her. Back in the "real" world, Sandra and Edward are still together in their idyllic house with the swimming pool and the white picket fence, and despite Will's suspicions about his father's fidelity, their love is just as strong as the day they met in the seemingly infinite sea of daffodils. As Edward sucks Will's fianceé Josephine into his fantasy world, tensions between the father and son run high, with Will claiming that he just wants to know the real version of his dad, not the rehearsed, fanciful one. The finale is too beautiful to spoil, but what's important is that it doesn't dwell somberly on Edward's passing, it celebrates the man behind the stories in the best way possible.
Tim Burton is characterized by his macabre characters and otherworldly settings, but Big Fish (and Ed Wood) doesn't fall under that umbrella... exactly. There's the madcap circus headed by a werewolf ringmaster and his gun-toting clown, the utopian town of Spectre, which boasts the greenest grasses and the sweetest pies, and the prescient one-eyed witch who turns into a sweet piano teacher. It's still got a magical touch to it, but the film is ultimately grounded in reality, playing on the strains in a father-son relationship. There's a sweet balance stuck between drama, comedy, romance, and fantasy, all spliced fluidly together with one hell of a story.
We first meet Edward Bloom as an old man, played by Albert Finney. He's charismatic and charms everyone with his stories, except for his frustrated son, Will (Billy Crudup). The story cuts back and forth between flashbacks from Edward's earlier life and the present day, where he is on his deathbed, trying to reconnect with his estranged son. It all starts with his memorable birth, where he quite literally shoots into the world headfirst. The movie takes a little bit to build up steam, but once Edward leaves his small-pond town (that is highly reminiscent of the suburban setting from Edward Scissorhands) to greet the real world, it quickly becomes Burton's most likable film in ten years. Ewan Mcgregor is young Edward Bloom, and his smile is so frequent and goofy that it's impossible not to like him. Even as he ages, that likability sticks, but is combined with the cantankerous qualities of a man in the autumn of his life. By chance, Edward has a brief encounter with a beautiful girl in a blue dress: Sandra Templeton (Alison Lohman, who ages seamlessly into Jessica Lange). He explains that when you meet the love of your life, time stops, but when it starts back up again, everything quickens to make up for the lost time. Because of this, Edward loses Sandra in the crowd, but is determined to do whatever it takes to find and marry her. Back in the "real" world, Sandra and Edward are still together in their idyllic house with the swimming pool and the white picket fence, and despite Will's suspicions about his father's fidelity, their love is just as strong as the day they met in the seemingly infinite sea of daffodils. As Edward sucks Will's fianceé Josephine into his fantasy world, tensions between the father and son run high, with Will claiming that he just wants to know the real version of his dad, not the rehearsed, fanciful one. The finale is too beautiful to spoil, but what's important is that it doesn't dwell somberly on Edward's passing, it celebrates the man behind the stories in the best way possible.
It's definitely a departure from Burton's earlier-but also great- films like Beetlejuice, Batman, and Edward Scissorhands, but the lack of gothic energy is welcome here, trading in fact for flavor and dark spirits for glowing sequences. Yes, it rambles, but everyone involved handles each story with extreme care, in stark contrast to Burton's more recent films which seem rushed and amateur, like a friendly reunion of people in the industry caught on camera instead of an actual film. |
Magical realism is hard to find in the modern cinema, some rare examples being O Brother, Where Art Thou? and nearly all of Charlie Kaufmann's filmography, but Burton nails it with Big Fish. Like O Brother, it's an Odyssey of sorts, but this time it's characterized by a protagonist with a penchant for escapism. It touches on the desire to escape the mundane by creating a new, more exciting reality. There's no harm in this as long as we realize that real life has its fair share of magic too; the magic of falling in love, creating friendships, and having children.
While Tim Burton may still be the director of choice for heavily-eyelined girls in arm socks, the general consensus is that he has fallen from grace in recent years, choosing to push wacky style choices and friendly benefits over artistic integrity and story. Big Fish is a look back at Burton's best qualities, his best film by far, despite the fact that he is still alive and kicking. It's up to the viewer to decide: is it the sad story of a sad old man dying in self-delusion, telling tall tales to make his life more interesting, or the story of a wildly imaginative man who brought charisma into the lives of everyone he met? Burton certainly leans towards the latter.
While Tim Burton may still be the director of choice for heavily-eyelined girls in arm socks, the general consensus is that he has fallen from grace in recent years, choosing to push wacky style choices and friendly benefits over artistic integrity and story. Big Fish is a look back at Burton's best qualities, his best film by far, despite the fact that he is still alive and kicking. It's up to the viewer to decide: is it the sad story of a sad old man dying in self-delusion, telling tall tales to make his life more interesting, or the story of a wildly imaginative man who brought charisma into the lives of everyone he met? Burton certainly leans towards the latter.