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Edward Scissorhands
Had Edward Scissorhands maintained its direction as a modern-day fairy-tale, it would have been flawless filmmaking—a cinematic triumph of imagination and visual achievement. As it stands, it is only a triumph of the latter. Once director Tim Burton tries to insert social commentary into the mix, the film falls flat on its face and drifts nowhere. Still, because of the mesmerizing visuals, the acting from the principal cast, and the success of the fairy-tale aspects in the story, Edward Scissorhands remains a highly enjoyable film that succeeds more than it fails. Burton and co-writer Caroline Thompson understand the elements of a fairy-tale, and they successfully weave them into their story and their protagonist. Many fairy-tales have magical explanations for origins of nature (i.e. the earth is made up of gigantic turtles, and earthquakes happen when they move about; logs popping in the fireplace are really sighs in despair from yesterday’s Christmas tree, etc.), and Edward Scissorhands is no different: It seeks to explain the origin of snow, and its explanation is just as magical and inventive as any fairy-tale or lore that I’ve ever read, to the point that saying anything more might spoil the magic of the discovery. Another similar fairy-tale theme is the Beauty and the Beast archetypes, which work well here: It has a misunderstood hero—in this case a man named Edward (Johnny Depp) created by an inventor (a wonderful Vincent Price, in his final screen appearance) out of a cookie heart. Unfortunately, the inventor dies before the man can be finished, and he is left with scissors for hands. His princess is Kim (Winona Ryder), the daughter of the Avon lady (Dianne West) who discovers Edward in his gloomy, empty castle. As in all variations of Beauty and the Beast, Kim is first horrified by the presence of this weird stranger, but eventually, as the first-welcoming town grows cold towards him, she sees his true, selfless self and grows warmer. Depp and Ryder create wonderful chemistry between them, particularly in the would-be love scenes. The moment when Kim asks Edward to hold her, his answer manages to be both heartbreaking and absolutely lovely. Also present is the archetypal antagonist, Kim’s boyfriend Jim (Anthony Michael Hall). Other than seeing Edward as a potential rival, he is just a generally unpleasant fellow who is determined to bring mayhem into Edward’s life because the newcomer is seemingly more popular than he is. Some critics criticized Jim as shallow and clichéd; I say that the very nature of the fairy-tale is the simplicity of archetypes, and Jim is a successful example of a fabled villain from an actor who understands the simplistic cruelness behind his character’s sneer. Furthermore, the film looks great. The world in which Edward Scissorhands exists is a completely original creation. Houses spring up out of the freshly-mowed grass like they were made on an assembly line, and they are distinguished by their bizarre choice in outlandish colors. This is the type of world where people live in the extreme stereotypes of suburban America—the town harlot, the religious zealot reminiscent of Carrie’s mother, the Avon lady, the crippled war veteran—complete with a gigantic, gothic castle at the end of town that no one ever visits. Burton is famous for creating words that are a gracious mix of Freudian, Gothic, and contemporary elements. His most famous (and best) creation was that of Gotham City in Batman, a gigantic metropolis that thrives on its population’s apathetic acceptance of its gargoylian shadows, distorted buildings, and the lack of sunlight. Here, Burton has created a location that is completely the opposite—open, bright, quiet—yet the unsettling effect still exists. Something simply is not right within this seemingly blissful neighborhood. Perhaps it is the population’s equal acceptance of this distorted world that makes us so uncomfortable when we watch it, not to mention how easily the public accepts this strange man with scissors for hands. As I watched, I realized that the reason this world was so unsettling is because it is the perfect update of the fairy-tale world in which wizards, gnomes, and magic still exist and are accepted by all inhabitants. If the medieval fairy-tale world evolved into a modern-day society, we are forced to conclude that this is exactly the way that it would look and feel. In perfect, Burtonesque tradition, Edward walks stiffly around in black, tight leather with wide eyes and long, wavy hair so wild that looks like a hand-grenade just went off on the top of his head. As played by Depp, he owes more to Frankenstein’s monster than to the Beast—he is sympathetic, thoughtful, curious, and less monstrous than simply bizarre. His monstrosity exists only because society dictates that he is different, and as he learns about society whose opinions and empathy is as fickle as the weather, he realizes how much better off he is in seclusion, despite his great love for Kim. In the meantime, he has a climactic showdown with the villain, the girlfriend has to make a choice about whose side she will take, and in the end, Edward’s struggle leads to the invention of snow. Here is a perfect modern-day fairly-tale—simple, appealing, and completely charming. Yet Burton does not seem content in keeping Edward Scissorhands simple, and he decides to toss in an ill-conceived attempt at social commentary that is unnecessary and distracting. What he should have realized was that fairy-tales teach lessons of their own, albeit simple ones about accepting others, honesty, and true love. These elements should have been enough to speak for themselves, and the application of them in a modern-day setting would have worked on their own. But Burton shoots for more complex themes that are simply overkill—when he places Edward in a bank and tries to help him establish a business, or when he is seduced by the neighborhood harlot, or when he is thrown into jail for being a “misunderstood teen,” we realize that Edward is being used as a vehicle for Burton to make unneeded societal statements. This strikes an entirely wrong note; Edward is so profound and touching in his simplicity that these moments unfairly reduce him to a pawn for the director to use to manipulate the audience. Not that I’m against social commentary. It’s just that Burton has not established a world or a creation here that merits it. I was happy enough the three-arch, archetypal fable of simple charms and characters. When I was slammed in the face with commentary in a world so different from real life that the statements do not fit, they were obvious and distracting, not the revelations and reflections on self that social commentary is supposed to be. These scenes go nowhere, and they take away from this attractive, delightful picture.
Cast: A Warner Brothers film. Directed
by Tim Burton. Written by Tim Burton and Caroline Thompson. Rated
PG-13, for violence, brief language and even briefer sexuality.
Running time: 105 minutes. Original United States theatrical release
date: December 7, 1990. Questions? Comments? E-mail me: danel_the_tinman@hotmail.com |
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