Director Report Card: Tim Burton (2024)

20. Beetlejuice Beetlejuice

It seemed like one of those sequels that would probably never get made. After "Beetlejuice" became the tenth highest grossing movie of 1988, the producers immediately wanted a sequel. Tim Burton, Michael Keaton, and Winona Ryder were game to return. However, "Batman" soon made Burton the most in-demand director in Hollywood, while Keaton and Ryder's careers had their own wild ups and downs. Scripts with high-concept titles like "Beetlejuice in Love" and "Beetlejuice Goes Hawaiian" were considered but nothing stuck. As years turned into decades, we'd still get the occasional update that the project was circling one strata of development or another, a new writer coming aboard, a reassurance from someone that the film was definitely going to happen. I know I had a strictly "I'll believe it when I see it" attitude by that point and I imagine many others did too.

In all that time, "Beetlejuice" somehow retained cultural relevance. A kids' cartoon, toys, appearances in theme parks, a successful stage musical, and perennial popularity as a Halloween costume kept the film and the character in people's minds. Despite that, the question remained in my mind: Do we need a "Beetlejuice 2?" In this age of legacy sequels and studios tirelessly chasing I.P.s, the idea of a CGI filled, watered down second appearance from the bio-exorcist didn't fill me with enthusiasm. After Burton had fallen to doing uninspired remakes for Disney and Netflix, it was hard to believe he still had, as it were, *the juice* for such a project. Commerce would not be denied, however, and the film's continued cult popularity kept Warner Brothers convinced a follow-up was a viable option. In 2022, a script finally took hold. Burton, Keaton, and Ryder all signed on. The director gave interviews talking up how he wanted to go back to the "handmade" aesthetic of the original. The buzz was positive. I remained skeptical. Burton had let me down too many times and the baggage of a 36 years later sequel still seemed difficult to overcome. As lights came up on my screening of the cleverly entitled "Beetlejuice Beetlejuice," I was surprised. My God, it was showtime again after all...

In the three and a half decades since the original, Lydia Deetz has become a successful television personality, using her ability as a medium to investigate haunted houses and communicate with the dead. Her personal life is in shambles though. The death of her late husband has left her with a fractured, distant relationship with her teenage daughter, Astrid. She's being romanced by her slimy manager, Rory. When news arrived that her father has died, she is pulled back to Connecticut for a funeral. Meanwhile, in the afterlife, Beetlejuice continues to operate as a sleazy businessman while still holding a flame for Lydia. When his soul-sucking ex-wife emerges for the first time since the Black Plague, the ghost with the most needs to find himself scarce. A convoluted series of events follows, the land of the dead and the land of the living overlapping again and Beetlejuice reaping more chaos in the Deetz' lives. 

By now, the blueprint for what they call "legacy sequels" – an unholy hybrid of sequel, reboot, and remake that successfully digs up decrepit brands for the modern age – has long been established. You get some of the old faces back. You fill the supporting cast with hot, young up-and-comers. You go out of your way to reference the original, often with a sense of awe and reverence. What you do not do is shake things up. The whole point of a legacy sequel is that it's safe. It serves no greater purpose than to remind people about what they liked the first time and to line studio execs' pockets. "Beetlejuice Beetlejuice" does not entirely avoid these pitfalls. As you'd expect, much of the script revolves around Lydia's teenage daughter, played by the modern embodiment of the alienated goth princess archetype and experienced requel vet Jenna Ortega. The sequel certainly revisits many of the gags and set pieces from the original. The Sandworm reappears. The cast lip syncs to an old song. It ends at a wedding. Much of the iconography of the original is trotted back out on-screen, in hopes of triggering some dopamine in aging Gen-Xers and millennials by tickling our nostalgia bone.

What causes so many follow-ups of this type to feel hollow and mercenary is that they don't acknowledge the flow of time in any way but a surface level. I don't mean that merely within the narrative either. Movies do not look the same now as they did in the eighties. They don't sound the same either, as the Wall Street jackasses running Hollywood now think everyone in the audience is as stupid as they are and insists on scripts that explain everything. Like I said, "Beetlejuice Beetlejuice" doesn't escape this. There's some supremely awkward dialogue that dishes out exposition for any youngster that hasn't seen the first. The central storyline, of Lydia and her disenfranchised daughter discovering they still love each other and moving pass the grief of their husband/father's death, is the modern boilerplate standard for these things. You coat the premise in some therapy-speak themes of trauma or grief or emotionally distant parents and that is supposed to be enough to modernize the old jalopy. There's a version of "Beetlejuice 2" that isn't that different from the one we got that is entirely tedious. 

However, a handful of factors largely prevent the sequel from having this ho-hum feeling. You can tell an actual attempt was made to recapture the look and feel of the original. When the eighties Geffin logo came up on-screen, I'm not going to lie that it sent a shiver of nostalgia up my spine. From there, the opening credits play over a tour of the miniature in the Maitland's attic, while the original font is used to present the names and Elfman's iconic score kicks in. But that's the easy stuff. What is more impressive is the sheer amount of practical effects and physical sets used. The afterlife seems to mostly be made up of actual locations built in a studio, using the same Expressionistic tilts and angles of the original. The ghouls, ghosts, and zombie died weirdos are largely the result of make-up, rubber, and latex. Effects that probably could have been done with CGI, like the spirits withering up after their souls are sucked, are instead done with fabulously rubbery puppets. A lot of filmmakers give lip service to doing things retro style while still filling the finished film with as much computer generated eye gouging as usual. Burton is certainly no stranger to this himself but "Beetlejuice Beetlejuice" truly does seem to use computer effects as little as possible. The result is a film that isn't only closer to the original but also one that has a charm to it that is rarely seen in big budget franchise fair. 

Another important factor distinguishing "Beetlejuice Beetlejuice" from many other attempts to revive old films is the sense that the people making this movie actually had fun doing it. Tim Burton's brand has, for years, been a safe and family friendly version of goth weirdness without any of the edge of "Batman Returns" that upset parent's groups so much. The "Beetlejuice" sequel sees the director returning to a love of gross-out gags that he frankly hasn't displayed in decades. The film is overflowing with slime, goop, ooze, and embalming fluid. The cartoony grotesqueness of the undead characters is right on display. Honestly, I was surprised at *how much* "Beetlejuice Beetlejuice" emphasizes the horror part of horror/comedy. A reoccurring character had been bitten in half by a shark, their innards poking out and spurting blood all over the place. Beetlejuice literally "spills his guts," rubber intestine flooding into the room. It is, as far as the realm of one hundred million dollar studio sequels go, gross. It's weird and fetishic, Burton casting his wife as a stapled together zombie babe and Winona Ryder's belly inflating on-screen. It is, most shocking of all, unpredictable. Did I expect the film to depict flashbacks as amusingly ugly stop-motion cartoons? Or a lovingly assembled homage to Mario Bava's black and white films? I gotta tell you, I did not. And both moments are all the more delightful because of it. (Considering the way some scenes are lit and colored, Bava's later work is a probable influence too.)

That sense of chaotic fun is important to the movie's success. On a scripting level, "Beetlejuice Beetlejuice" is a bit of a mess. The film has multiple subplots and a wide cast of characters. Many events in the story are nothing but contrived excuses to set up later scenarios. In the earlier scenes, a clever series of transitions are used to link the scenes in the living world and the afterlife but this is abandoned as the characters and careening storylines pile up. Ultimately though, I found myself not being bothered by this so much simply because, once again, there's a wacky energy to so many of these events that are infectious. Beetlejuice's villainous ex-wife doesn't add much to the story... But if you were married to Monica Belluci and wanted to put her in your movie as a stitched together gothic succubus, wouldn't you do it? Willem Dafoe appears as someone who was a B-movie action star in life and is now an actual detective in death, with half his skull blown off. And Dafoe hams it up gloriously, always keeping a straight face while playing this utterly ridiculous character. Justin Theroux is similarly over-the-top as Lydia's obvious ill-intentioned lover. Maybe it's all too much and the film scrambles to make room for it all. But everyone is having such a good time! I'm glad this shit is in the movie. 

Perhaps most importantly, the sequel gives the impression that it exists for reasons beyond making money for stockholders. While not a writer, Tim Burton has often expressed personal feelings through his film. "Nightmare Before Christmas" – which, yes, I know he didn't direct – tells the story of a mid-life crisis from someone who has achieved fame and success, shortly after Burton went from the guy who got kicked out of Disney for being too weird to the director of the highest grossing movie of 1989. "Ed Wood" reflects Burton's own relationships with his idols. Which causes one to consider Lydia Deetz' arc here as reflective of the director's own life. Much like Jack Skellington, she has achieved success and fame, via her medium show. This hasn't made her happy and, in fact, she feels like she's slipping. Other people are directing her life. She has no connection to her kid, having lost the macabre spark that bonded them. It takes confronting the past, rediscovering what excited and energized you before, for her to find her way again. I have no idea what Burton thinks of "Dumbo" or "Dark Shadows" or any of his other middling work from the last fifteen years. Drawing parallels between this story and his own career, however, seems hard to dismiss. 

There's a universal truth to some of the ideas here too. Last time we saw Lydia Deetz, she was the cool goth outsider who had managed to define herself based on her own weirdness. Now she's a parent and it's an unavoidable fact of the universe that every parent is, at some point in time, lame to their child. The script builds Lydia and Astrid's conflict around her mother closing herself off emotionally after Astrid's dad died. However, the scenes where Ryder and Catherine O'Hara interact, reminding her of how they treated each other at this age, suggests the movie should've gone further in this direction. In the original "Beetlejuice," Lydia thought her mom was a lame sell-out. The movie was on her side, so we thought her mom was a lame sell-out too. Now, Lydia has a kid who thinks she's a lame sell-out. On the other hand, Delia Deetz is a conceptual artist, still making weird and personal art at her age. This forces us to confront something uncomfortable: Maybe Lydia's mom is cool. Maybe she's always been cool. Which mirrors many an angsty teenager's relegation about their own parents, in a way. We come to understand them as we get older and, especially, after we become parents ourselves.

Growing old and maturity is an idea floating around inside the sequel's head. It's no doubt i intentional that Lydia has changed so much in this time while Beetlejuice has remained exactly the same creep he's always been. Burton's body of work is mostly an example of arrested development, the director recycling the same themes of outsiders struggling within a bland society for the last thirty years. You see signs that, like so many people his age, Burton is dismissive of modern politically correct culture. There's a few weird jokes about trigger warnings and modern youths being too sensitive. The finale features Beetlejuice sucking a whole horde of influences into their cellphones, a rather literal metaphor. (Not to mention a gag about "Soul Train," a joke you'd expect someone born in 1958 to make. Though I kind of liked that one...) However, the film proves more subversive than I expected. Astrid's subplot involves her crashing her back into a tree and meeting a boy her age named Jeremy. They bond over being awkward outsiders who like vinyl and Halloween. These scenes are cute while also representing the same sort of adolescent fantasy Burton has always worked in. A shy boy who stays in his room all day and reads Doestoesvsky sees the perfectly quirky, beautiful, sardonic girl with black bangs almost literally fall out of the sky on front of him. Honestly, Ortega and Arthur Conti are so good at playing these kind of characters that I managed to find this subplot, no matter how juvenile it is, charming. However, this proceeds a surprising twist that suggests, perhaps, Burton is a little more aware of the toxic qualities of the shut-in outsider sensitive boys that he's spent so much of his career rhapsodizing. 

You'll notice that, throughout this whole review, I haven't talked about the title character that much. As in the original film, the sequel makes a conscious decision to limit the rowdy spirit's screentime. During the long developmental process for "Beetlejuice 2," I'm sure there was a temptation to soften the character. After all, he did already star in a Saturday morning cartoon that depicted him and Lydia as being best friends. Luckily, the sequel maintains Beetlejuice's characterization as a villain. He's a sleazy, gross, betraying bastard who is only out for himself. We can relish in his bad behavior, as he rebels against polite society, but he's still a scumbag. The script actually finds a fairly clever way to get us a few scenes of Lydia and stripped spectre paling around without forgetting that she's completely disgusted by him, the heroes reluctantly having to call on his help. Despite the three decades that have passed, Michael Keaton hasn't lost a beat with this guy, clearly having a great time playing the badly behaving boogieman. Keaton's career revival has been satisfying but seeing him ham it up again like this is what I've been missing. Good to know he's still got it. 

"Good to know he's still got it" is, in fact, largely my reaction to "Beetlejuice Beetlejuice" in many ways. It's obviously not as fresh as the original and is held back by some of the modern conventions of big budget cinema. However, it's a ultimately a highly entertaining motion picture, full of a tactile visual playfulness I didn't expect. A gory ending that references a horror classic – while clearly poking fun at the recent tendency to turn iconic characters into cute baby versions studios can sell toys of – confirms an attempt by its director to recapture a nastiness largely missing from his recent endeavors. I don't want to call it a comeback. I liked "Big Fish" and "Frankenweinie" too and those proceeded underwhelming follow-ups. Nevertheless, "Beetlejuice Beetlejuice" escaping development hell and ending up being funny, weird, and gross is a victory in its own right. I still don't know if we needed a sequel to "Beetlejuice" but this film more than justifies its own existence with some fun performances, some great effects, and some slimy laughs. [Grade: B]

Director Report Card: Tim Burton (2019)

19. Dumbo

Look, I'm a big fan of the Disney Animated Features and I'm obviously fond of big budget, special effects filled spectacle. But this wave of big budget remakes Disney has made of their various classic cartoons? At best, they are usually deeply unnecessary exercise. At worst, they range from nearly shot-for-shot remakes to films that actively betray the themes of the original story. Tim Burton can take some blame for starting this mess, as the billion dollar success of his “Alice in Wonderland” urged Disney on. They show no signs of slowing down, as 2019 alone sees them rolling out quote-unquote live action versions of “Aladdin,” “The Lion King,” “Lady and the Tramp,” a sequel to “Maleficent,” and Tim Burton's “Dumbo.” Considering my obvious lack of enthusiasm for his prior stab at this, it was hard to get excited for Burton remaking an old Disney cartoon again.

The original “Dumbo” runs barely over an hour and contains no major human characters. This means Burton's “Dumbo” has to expand upon the plot greatly. The basic are still the same: Mrs. Jumbo gifts the circus with a new baby elephant. The new baby, quickly named Dumbo, is born with giant ears that get him mocked. However, when he grasps a lucky feather, he can use his huge ears to fly, making him a star act of the circus. Soon, he uses his ability to rescue his mother. Added to this plot line is recently returned war veteran/amputee Holt Farrier and his recently motherless kids, Milly and Joe. The kids have a special bond with the little elephant. When news of the act reaches millionaire theme park owner V.A. Vandevere, he purchases the entire circus. Vandevere's intentions are less than benevolent though.

Many of these live action remakes Disney have rolled out are largely shot on green screens. This blurs the line between live action and animation, as Jon Favreau's “Jungle Book” was computer generated save for one actor while his upcoming “Lion King” is entirely CGI. Burton's “Alice in Wonderland” largely depended on real actors performing on sets made in a computer. Burton's “Dumbo” takes a similar approach. At first, this is hugely jarring. Seeing real people perform before clearly unreal surroundings, sometimes wearing clearly CGI outfits, makes everything look plastic-y and weightless. However, as “Dumbo” goes on and the story grows increasingly surreal, this starts to work in the film's favor. Maybe “Dumbo” is suppose to look artificial, to further facilitate a dream-like and fantastical atmosphere.

Burton's “Alice in Wonderland” was depressingly free of his stylistic trademarks. At first, his “Dumbo” looks much the same, as it joylessly marches through the original's story beats but stripped of their whimsy. However, once Vandevere enters the film and the story moves to his Dreamland park, things pick up. Dreamland includes a hall of horrors, inhabited by regular animals dressed up as fictional monsters. Shots of a “werewolf” howling in the fog or a crocodile outfitted with fake horns – a possible slurpasaur homage? – reminds us of Tim Burton's earlier films. A Robby-like robot appears rather randomly, as does a highly anachronistic mechanical hand. His take on the “Pink Elephants on Parade” sequence, performed entirely in bubbles and partially seen reflected in Dumbo's eyes, is a similarly dream-like sequence. It's good to know that Burton can occasionally grab some of the spark that made him interesting in the first place.

Even in the cartoon, Dumbo didn't talk. Creating a film where your title character is both silent and created in a computer presents some challenge. Amazingly, Dumbo in 2019's “Dumbo” works. First off, he's genuinely adorable. He doesn't look like a real elephant but he's an awfully cute approximation. More importantly, the film captures Dumbo's vulnerability and his connection to his mother, making the audience want to see him succeed. A flying elephant doesn't look real. That's where the film's surreal tone comes in handy. However, the scenes of Dumbo flying are still exciting and inspiring. As if to make the audience relate even more to Dumbo, Burton's film often assumes his point of view.

Danny DeVito supposedly signed onto “Dumbo” so he and Burton could complete their “Circus Trilogy.” It is true that Burton has shown a particular fondness for the circus before, in “Big Fish” and parts of “Batman Returns.” Large parts of “Dumbo” are devoted to the sense of family formed among circus performers. Everyone in the circus stands up for Dumbo and his mom. Yet Burton seems even more fond of what an extended confidence act the circus is. Ringmaster Medici has few people filling multiple roles at the circus, the strongman doubling as a orchestra leader for one example. He isn't great about paying people, extending promises he doesn't always keep. There's something sweet about how this big mess is held together by everyone loving it so much.

Burton has certainly expressed his love of ramshackle establishments running on pure sincerity before. Dumbo and the circus around him emerge as another set of Burtonian misfits, fighting against conformity. Weirdly, Burton chooses this material to bring a political context to his usual tropes. Medici's Circus is a small business. It gets scooped up by Vandevere's Dreamland, a bigger and glossier establishment worth millions. Yet Vandevere doesn't care about the little workers his company has absorbed, deciding to fire them shortly after hiring them. His establishment is soon exposed as flashy but hollow. The way a rich man commodifies unique and special things – by selling stuffed animals of Dumbo – is either Burton biting the corporate Disney hand that feeds him or the movie being especially blatant about its toy tie-ins.

These anti-big business themes are certainly more compelling, and unexpected, than some of the other ideas floating around inside “Dumbo.” This is a movie that purports to support animal rights while also trumpeting a love for the circus. A circus in 1919 even, a time and place that almost assuredly saw its share of casual animal abuse. Nevertheless, the ultimate goal of the story is to release Dumbo back into the wild. This is especially apparent during a closing scene where Medici talks directly to the viewer and mentions how free and comfortable their animals are. It's absolutely a good message but I don't think this story – which also plays an imperiled monkey for occasional laughs – was the best place to make it.

At times, “Dumbo” really does feel like three different movies shoved into one. You have a cutesy CGI remake of the original “Dumbo,” you have a story about a little circus being bought up by a big circus, and you have a story of a family recovering from their mother's death. Weirdly, that last story is the one that feels the most childish. The dead mom is just a prop, a clumsy way of connecting the children with Dumbo, who is missing his own mom. We never get a sense of who their mother was. We also never get the feeling that Holt is mourning his own wife very much, as he seems much more upset by Medici selling his horses and slightly annoyed by how clearly traumatized his kids are.

I hate to say this but a big reason why that particular subplot doesn't work, aside from it just being really underwritten, is that the child actors aren't very good. Nico Parker and Finley Hobbins are making their debuts here. Parker as Milly, who Burton makes up to look a lot like one of Margaret Keane's big eyed waifs, speaks most of her lines in a blank monotone. It doesn't help that she's given some truly tin-earred exposition to deliver too. Hobbins, as Jack, is among the film's most underdeveloped kids. He too seems deeply uncomfortable on camera. It's not right to blame kids for these sort of things but somebody somewhere made a mistake with these leads.

But maybe the kids give lackluster performances because they are just following the lead of the movie's biggest star. Colin Farrel, playing a part probably would've gone to Johnny Depp a few years ago, is cashing a paycheck so hard. There's a lot for an actor to dig into in the part of Holt Farrier. He's a veteran of the first World War who has recently lost an arm, a loss that comes atop his wife dying while he was overseas. Instead of digging into any of that, Farrell recites his dialogue and goes through the motions without a single flicker of genuine emotion crossing his eyes. I don't know, maybe he was trying to play it stoic...

Luckily, Burton has his collection of regulars along and they are more than capable of carrying the entire film. Danny DeVito, who is very close to being the film's main character, is truly delightful as Medici. He seems in very high spirits, as a man whose childhood enthusiasm is never quite crushed despite the sadness he clearly carries around inside him. Eva Green, now thoroughly established as Burton's latest muse, soars as Colette, the trapeze artist who is slowly won over by Dumbo. That ineffable grace and wit Green brings to every role is especially well utilized here, as a character who is more complex than she initially appears. Lastly, Michael Keaton has a ton of fun hamming it up as Vandevere. Halfway between Beetlejuice and Bruce Wayne, Keaton growls and pontificates as the unscrupulous businessman. As he grows more unhinged, Keaton only becomes more entertaining.

Maybe it's because my expectations were very low but I ended up liking “Dumbo” a little more than expected. After an extremely slow first act, it picks up a lot and starts to feel a lot more like a Tim Burton movie. Granted, it's a Tim Burton movie with not nearly enough heart in its story and way too much fucking CGI but at least it's recognizable as a Burton film. As uneven as it is, it ultimately proves more interesting than “Miss Peregrine” or “Dark Shadows,” the director's anti-corporate themes emerging in a big way. And, it turns out, an adorable baby elephant goes a long way. I still can't support Disney raiding their vault for easy, nostalgia-baiting box office. (Which didn't exactly work out as well planned this time.) However, this probably emerges as my favorite of their recent remakes. [Grade: B-]

Director Report Card: Tim Burton (2016)

18. Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children

Last we saw Tim Burton, he had directed “Big Eyes,” an adult-skewing drama that was made with hopes towards winning an Oscar. Despite being a decent flick, it would strike out with Academy voters. After having his serious filmmaking dreams dashed once more, Tim Burton returned to the safe, welcoming arms of blockbuster film making. “Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children” is based off a young adult novel. Like many Y.A. adaptations, the film was made with the hopes of launching a franchise. Once again, we see the director painting a typical Hollywood script with his usual visual quirks.

His entire life, Jake’s grandfather has regaled him with stories about a magical house filled with extraordinary children. Each one had a strange ability, with a woman named Miss Peregrine watching over them. As a kid, he believed him. As a lonely teenager, he now believes his grandfather to be crazy. After receiving a startling phone call, he finds his grandfather dead, his eyes sucked out. Following a strange letter, Jake discovers his granddad’s stories were true. He discover the home of Miss Peregrine and her peculiar children, kept in a time loop in the Welsh countryside. Jake is drawn into a world of adventure, as Peregrine and her kids are pursued by sinister forces.

“Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children” – has there ever been a more Tim Burton-y title? – filters a number of popular ideas through the director’s sensibilities. The concept concerns a wise adult overseeing a school occupied by uniquely gifted children, each one born with a different power or ability. Like, say, “X-Men.” Gifted young people learning to use their abilities also brings the “Harry Potter” series to mind, as does a seemingly normal youth entering a fantasy world. The time loop setting recalls “Peter Pan” and “Groundhog Day.” The villains are tall, skinny, pale, faceless, tentacled monsters in dark suits who prey on children. In other words, an exact quote of the Slender Man internet meme. Burton takes these well worn ideas and drowns them in gothic atmosphere, spooky touches, and quirky humor. This is a clear example of the director’s modern day work-for-hire mentality. You hire Tim Burton to add some Tim Burton flair to an otherwise typical project.

Yet all the spooky touches in the world couldn’t disguise the stock parts script. Once the villains are revealed, “Home for Peculiar Children” becomes a chase pictures. The heroes are on the run from the bad guys, hoping to rescue their house mother before the villains kill her. There is a time restrain in place, something about the kids being unable to stay outside the time loop for so long. In truth, all the talks of different time loops is very confusing. The characters seemingly leap from time period to time period, without much interior logic. Maybe I just wasn’t following things. But the rules of “Miss Peregrine’s” fictional universe seem ungainly and convoluted. It’s all in service of an unspectacular adventure narrative.

When the film works, it doesn’t focus on the Y.A. plotting. When settled into the weird world of “Miss Peregrine’s,” the movie becomes more interesting. A long portion in the middle focuses on Jake living with the Peculiar Children. We meet the quirky cast. The girl full of helium, the invisible boy, the burning girl, the child who broadcasts his dreams through a glass eye, the little girl with the mouth in the back of her head, and so on. We see them go about their day. One child uses her powers to grow giant vegetables. Another catches a falling baby squirrel at the exact same time every afternoon. At the end of the day, Miss Peregrine sets back the clock another twenty-four hours, sending an Axis bomb floating back into the sky. These sequences are kind of cozy, seeing unusual people make a life for themselves in their own strange world. I honestly wish Burton could’ve made a plotless film focusing on this environment, instead of moving on to the typical fantasy/adventure plot.

And our guide into this peculiar world is Asa Butterfield’s Jake. In some ways, Jake is a typical Burton-esque protagonist. At story’s beginning, he lives in a drearily mediocre Florida suburb. He’s a pale skinned outsider, an awkward misfit with no luck with girls. The biggest difference between Jake and “Beetlejuice’s” Lydia or “Frankenweenie’s” Victor is Jake isn’t interesting. Asa Butterfield, still best known for “Hugo,” adapts a ridiculous American accent. He wearily walks from scene to scene, reacting to the crazy things happening to him. Eventually, we learn that Jake has powers of his own, a unique ability to see monsters. This seems like a last minute attempt to make the character compelling. The film should’ve been about Miss Peregrine or her adoptees. Butterfield’s Jake is a snore.

Tim Burton has cycled through several dark haired, gothic muses. Winona Ryder, Christina Ricci, Lisa Marie, and Helena Bonham Carter have all come and gone. Now it seems the director has latched himself to Eva Green. Green was the best part of “Dark Shadows” and now she’s the best part of “Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children.” Miss Peregrine’s magical ability is over time. This leads to an punctual attitude, demanding a similar exactness from everyone around her. She snaps a pocket watch open and close through the film, to emphasize this. She brings a strict body language to the entire part, a perfect diction to her dialogue. Green balances these aspects with a wry sense of humor, displayed through a rakish smile or perfectly timed nod. When the character is captured mid-way through the film, it suffers.

Burton fills the cast with recognizable character actors. Such as Terence Stamp as Jake’s grandfather and Judi Dench as another leader of a peculiar household. Or Chris O’Dowd as the boy’s doddering father, Allison Janney as his stiff psychiatrist, and Rupert Everett as an effete bird watcher. While all the performers do good work, the peculiar children show more potential. The cast is too large, with twelve children under Peregrine’s watch. Most of them are just gimmicks, like the super-strong girl or the boy with bees in his stomach. Others just serve plot purpose, such as the invisible boy or the girl with the green thumb. Yet occasionally an interesting performer emerges. Ella Purnell shows some charm as Emma, the helium girl. Lauren McCrostie gets a few notable moments as Olive, the pyrokinetic. Hayden Keeler-Stone displays some humor as Horace, the glass-eyed boy. Finlay MacMillan probably gives the best performance of the kids as Enoch, the moody boy who can resurrect the dead.

“Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children” didn’t receive much attention when it was released this past summer. What people did notice about it was its villain. Samuel L. Jackson plays Mr. Barron, the shape-shifting bad guy who extends his life by eating the eyes of peculiar children. Jackson hams it up as usual, doing what he can to distinguish the part. What upset people was the film making its sole black character the villain, preying on the lily-white cast of heroes. I don’t think Burton or anyone else meant anything by this choice. It simply reflects Burton’s suburban view point, which is predominantly white. But the implications are unfortunate, to say the least.

Long stretches of “Miss Peregrine’s” are forgettable. It’s most memorable moments are the ones that reflect the director’s style the most. Enoch uses his death-defying abilities not to bring the sick back to death. Instead, he reanimates little morbid dolls, making the monsters fight for his amusement. (He references a past habit to do the same with corpses.) Later in the film, he brings too life a derelict boat full of skeletons. In Burton’s most recent homage to Ray Harryhausen, the skeleton warriors leap around, defending the heroes. While CGI is subbed in for stop motion, the effect is similar. Watching the skeletal goofballs get torn apart or leap around is infectiously fun. I wish the film had more fun stuff like that.

Burton’s tendencies as a filmmaker is apparent in other ways too. My favorite scene without skeletons involves a trip into a sunken ship. The slow motion dive down is well executed and the flooded interior is oddly eerie. A flashback shows Jackson altering his comrades with a mad scientist get-up that wouldn’t be out of place in a fifties sci-fi flick. One of his allies is shown to be a monkey woman, a bizarrely memorable touch. The climax of the film is set among a seaside carnival. The dark ride features prominently, as you’d expect. There’s a surprisingly lack of black and white spiral or jaunty tubas on the soundtrack. (Mike Higham and Matthew Margeson compose the score, presumably because Danny Elfman was busy.) Yet Burton’s aesthetic shines through anyway.

Some times, it even feels like Tim was trying to make a horror movies for kids. Aside from the skeletons and reanimated corpses, there are other grisly components. The villains’ habit of eating eyeballs is lingered on to a creepy degree. Among Miss Peregrine’s brood is a pair of creepy twins, with pale skin and clown-like faces. Later, we discover their masks cover petrifying medusa faces. The slender men’s initial appearance is played for horror. As they become more explained, they loose that spookiness. By the time they’re pelted with snowballs and cotton candy, the fear is totally gone. I can still see the younger audience members getting creeped out by this one, even if the adults will be left unaffected.

Ultimately, “Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children” is a middle-of-the-road affair. It’s not a particularly bad film, being far too inoffensive for that. There are a handful of things about it that are really interesting. Like Green, the titular setting, and the quirky, spooky bits. These inspired elements are strangled by a formulaic and long-winded screenplay. It all adds to a film that isn’t likely to be remembered. “Home for Peculiar Children” did mediocre business domestically but turned into a modest hit overseas, prompting talks of a sequel. Tim Burton doesn’t sound very enthused about this possibility and neither am I. [Grade: C+]

Director Report Card: Tim Burton (2014)

17. Big Eyes

The films of Tim Burton have met with financial success all over the world. “Beetlejuice” was a sleeper hit, “Batman” created the modern superhero movie, and “Alice in Wonderland” is, inexplicably, one of the most successful films of all time. The director can count his box office failures on one hand. Despite this wide-reaching commercial success, Tim Burton has not always been a critical favorite, especially recently. Occasionally, Burton will step away from blockbusters and make a prestige film, in hopes of scoring some Oscar gold. It never works. His latest stab at a character-driven drama, “Big Eyes,” was totally snubbed by the Academy. This is a shame since “Big Eyes” is probably the director’s best film in years.

“Big Eyes” is a biopic about painter Margaret Keane. Keane’s life is especially ripe for a film adaptation. Leaving behind her husband in the late fifties, she moved to San Francesco with her daughter, hoping to find work as a painter. Her portraits of children with large eyes did not get her much attention. That is until she caught the eye of another artist named Walter. The two quickly married, Walter’s marketing savvy helping his wife’s work gain local popularity. Unfortunately, Walter also claimed credit for Margaret’s work. The paintings became wildly popular, especially through the sale of cheaply produced prints, making the Keanes rich and famous. All the while, Margaret allowed her husband to take credit for her work. After a decade, she had enough, divorcing him and suing for the rights to her own creations. The court case climaxed dramatically in a paint-off between the former husband and wife. With such a film-ready ending to the story, I can’t believe Keane’s story is only now being brought to the screen.

Keane’s story has an obvious appeal to Tim Burton. “Big Eyes” re-paired Burton with the screenwriting duo behind “Ed Wood.” Both films have a similar concept. Just as Edward J. Wood’s films are dismissively considered the worst ever made, Keane’s paintings are usually mocked as kitsch specimens. Both films look into the personal life of honorably dubious pop culture figures. It’s also not surprising to read that Burton was already a collector of Keane’s work before making the film. One can draw comparisons to Burton’s films and the pale skin, bleak surroundings, and doe eyes of Keane’s paintings. Moreover, Keane’s story drips with Burton’s trademarks. Margaret moving from the suburbs of Tennessee to the east coast art scene provides the director an oppretunity for the fish-out-of-water humor he loves. Keane also has elements of the Burton-esuqe outsider, for her eccentric beliefs and oppression from her husband.

“Big Eyes” is ultimately a story about the struggles of being an artist and where artistic inspiration and commerce meets. Throughout the film, Margaret repeatedly references how her paintings speak to something deep inside of her, how the creation of art is an incredibly personal process. Her work ethic is impressive, painting every day, producing hundreds of paintings in very short amounts of time. Keane didn’t paint her big-eyed waifs in hopes of becoming trendy or hip. She did it because this was what inspired her. Walter, meanwhile, is an opportunist that’s in the art world for profit. He’s very good at selling himself and makes the two very rich, seeing the potential of Margaret’s work. In order to meet the demands of her husband’s whims, Margaret cranks out paintings every day, her work becoming increasingly soulless. She enters a Mephistophelian pact with Walter, gaining financial stability but loosing her personal, artistic fulfillment. The film becomes a story of her regaining this and reaching a personal compromise, all on her own, between success and happiness.

“Big Eyes” also presents Margaret Keane as an unlikely feminist hero. Keane begins the film as a single mother, escaping an unhappy marriage during a time when such a thing was not accepted. Though charmed by Walter’s antics, she marries himself mostly to provide for her daughter. The film follows her struggle to break away from one restrictive man after another and live her own life. Considering the story takes place around the same time period as the women’s lib movement, I can’t imagine this was unintentional.

Mostly though, “Big Eyes” is about two extraordinary performances from two of our best actors. Amy Adams has routinely given great performances in films beneath her talent level. In “Big Eyes,” she is sensitive, quiet, but shows a subtle determination. Adams plays Keane as someone slowly growing and emerging out of their own shell. By the film’s last third, when Margaret has finally strike back at Walter, the audience has grown to love this character. The scene where she finally leaves her abusive husband, crying while holding hands with her daughter, is quite touching.

Walter Keane, meanwhile, is an ideal part for Christoph Waltz. In the beginning, Keane is incredibly charming. Waltz, who is always funny and compelling, can play this easily. Even though he puts off the vibe of being a shyster and a con artist, we can’t help but like Walter Keane. In time, Walter reveals how manipulative and mean-spirited he can be. Waltz is really good at playing this too. The German actor has quickly made a career out of playing kindly smiling, utterly charming devils that, eventually, show their true faces. There’s nothing in “Big Eyes” that Waltz didn’t already do in “Inglourious Basterds,” and better, but he’s still dynamite on screen and utterly fascinating to watch.

“Big Eyes” supporting cast is filled out with great character actors. Krysten Ritter, in a bit part as Margaret’s sole friend, is a lot of fun to watch. I can’t believe Tim Burton is only now working Krysten Ritter and fully expect her to appear in future films of his. Jon Polito does his thing as the sleazy owner of the nightclub where the Keane’s first display their artwork. His interaction with Waltz is especially amusing. Terence Stampe is, likewise, perfectly cast as a cold critic that dismiss Keane’s work. Jason Schwartzman has a bit part as the hipster art gallery owner that also turns his nose up at Margaret’s paintings. All of this is spot-on casting, the actors excelling in parts designed for them. Most surprising is Delaney Raye and Madeleine Arthur, who both play Margaret’s daughter Jane at different ages. Both, with their huge blue eyes, look like one of Keane’s paintings and both give fine performances. And, look at that, not a single Johnny Depp in the whole movie.

If you have any doubt that this was a Tim Burton movie, “Big Eyes” begins with a shot of clean, multicolored suburban homes in an oppressively cold neighborhood. Burton’s eye is sharper then ever. “Big Eyes” is film about a painter so it’s very colorful. The blues are very bright and the greens are quite deep. At times, it almost looks like it was shot in Technicolor. This is how you do color correction right, as it not only adds depth to the frame but also reinforces the film’s concepts. Mostly, the director holds back on his usual stylistic excesses. “Big Eyes” features no black-and-white spirals or gothic, expressionistic sets. The only time Burton’s usual whimsy puts in an appearance is during a notable sequence where, while at the supermarket, Margaret begins to hallucinate the people around with her with the big eyes of her paintings. And this moment is appropriately strange and off-putting then funny or amusing.

In the past, I’ve been quite dismissive of the typical prestige biopics. “Big Eyes” both subverts the conventions of the genre while also occasionally playing them straight. It cleverly skips over the tedious montages devoted to showing Margaret and Walter’s rise to fame. Instead, we simply get a quick flash of newspapers and photographs. Other times, the movie does what is expected. Danny Huston, playing reporter Dick Nolan, provides an occasional, and mostly unnecessary, voice-over, adding some unneeded context to what’s happening. The film concludes with the expected info card letting us know what happened to the film’s subjects after the story’s end. This is also unnecessary. “Big Eyes” brushes up against being an unusual biopics but does indulge in many of the things we associate with the genre.

The drama inside “Big Eyes” escalates throughout the film. Even though this is truly a “truth is stranger then fiction” story, some of the things that happen on-screen strain believability. In a drunken rage, Walter chases Margaret and Jane through their house, flicking matches at them. That’s a little over the top, don’t you think? As you’d expect, the film concludes with the dramatic court case, as cinematic an ending as I’ve ever read about. While Walter’s behavior during these scenes are true to the facts, it’s so outrageous. Waltz is at full strength here, hamming it up, pushing the character to the level of cartoonish supervillainy. While the moment still provides a solid ending, “Big Eyes” stumbles a bit in its last act.

This is a Tim Burton movie so, of course, Danny Elfman provides the score. Some of Elfman’s music is effective and stirring, especially during the film’s more quiet moments. Too frequently, however, Elfman’s score suffers from a bad case of what I call “indie-soundtrack-idist.” It’s hard to describe, though listening to NPR for a while might give you a good idea. The music is designed to put the audience in a certain quirky mood. Does it work? I suppose so. Is it still an overused style? Definitely. Is Elfman capable of better work? Obviously. Pop star Lana del Ray contributes two songs and both are horribly out of place in the movie. Music from the actual time period the story is set in probably would have worked better.

That “Big Eyes” failed to impress the Academy maybe isn’t a surprise. It’s more charming then impressive, more pleasant then mind blowing. However, Adams probably did deserve a nomination, as she’s excellent. “Big Eyes” won’t usher Burton into a more serious portion of his career. (Considering his next film will either be a return to whimsical family fantasy, it obviously won’t.) However, it’s a mature, thoughtful, beautifully assembled, grounded film from the director and one that I’m likely to return to. If nothing else, I bet it’ll sell a whole bunch of Keane's paintings. [Grade: B+]

Director Report Card: Tim Burton (2012) Part 2

16. Frankenweenie

When I first saw and reviewed “Frankenweenie” in 2012, I was surprised by how much I like it. After re-watching all of Burton’s previous films, that surprise makes even more sense. The film was released following “Alice in Wonderland” and “Dark Shadows,” two back-to-back career lows for the director. Against competition like that, even a merely above-average film looks great. Watching the film two years later, I suppose I was predisposed to like it. The film is an extended homage to classic horror about a boy and his dog. I love classic horror. I love dogs. I might have been the very specific niche audience “Frankenweenie” was designed to appeal to.

The film is a remake of a short film Burton directed at the beginning of his career. The short was live action while the feature length version is animated in the stop-motion style that Burton saw some success with in the past. The story is about the ironically named Victor Frankenstein, a lonely little boy living in the painfully square town of New Holland. Victor’s only friend is his dog, Sparky, and the two make silly monster movies in their backyard. Tragedy strikes when Sparky is hit by a car, robbing Victor of his only friend. The boy is so heartbroken, that he digs up his dog’s body and, living up to his name sake, brings Sparky back to life using lightning and mad science. Victor has Sparky back but hijinks ensues, especially when the other neighborhood kids discover his secret.

On “Corpse Bride,” Burton officially co-directed with animator Mike Johnson. With “Frankenweenie,” Tim takes all the credit, receiving the sole directorial notice.  However, a closer look will show that Trey Thomas was the “animation director,” which suggests that he actually directed the bulk of the movie, with Burton simply directing the voice actors. So let’s examine Thomas’ work. Perhaps inspired by Henry Selick’s “Coraline,” “Frankenweenie” has less in common with the slick CGI-assisted animation of “Corpse Bride” and resembles the Earthier animation of “The Nightmare Before Christmas.” The focus isn’t on shiny, fancy shots and more on the characters and their world. The character designs, featuring the thin limbs, wide eyes, and dark hair, are right out of Burton’s sketch book. The film is, in general, more grounded then the director’s last foray into animation.

Helping give “Frankenweenie” a distinctive look is its beautiful black and white photography. Despite the colors on display, the film doesn’t indulge in as much old time atmosphere as you’d expect. There’s a little, such as fog billowing through an underground tomb. However, the choice mostly roots the movie to the past, displaying its simplistic roots. Shots of characters walking through a rain storm are done to establish a gloomy mood, instead of a frightening one. Thomas’ direction features a few visual flares, like a round hole in a wooden fence transitioning to a round clock. For the most part though, “Frankenweenie” is a grounded film, nostalgic for the simplicity of childhood.

Part of that nostalgia presents itself in the numerous references to the Universal Monsters and ‘50s creature features. Victor’s budding girlfriend has the first name of Elsa, like Elsa Lanchester. To further this reference, her pet poodle sports a white-streaked beehive hair-do. The town being named “New Holland” mostly seems to be done so the finale can be set in a burning windmill. Two of the supporting characters explicitly reference the classic “Frankenstein” series. The creepy Edgar is the story’s Igor, from his hump down to his spooky way of talking. One of Victor’s classmates, Nassor, is modeled after Bors Karloff, featuring his broad shoulders, wide forehead, flattop haircut, and his lisp. Just in case anyone missed the joke, Nassor winds up wrapped like a mummy by story’s end.

As obvious as the film’s love for classic horror of the 30s is, many of its most oddball references are to different eras. The eccentric science teacher that encourages Victor’s experiments is patterned after Vincent Price, in appearance if not voice. Rodan puts in a cameo early on. A giant turtle that heavily resembles Gamera lumbers through the last act, stomping on a police car like the Beast from 20,000 Fathoms. The flock of mad Sea Monkeys act a lot like Gremlins. There are cute visual references to everything from “The Birds” to “Pet Sematary. “ Moments like these make it clear that “Frankenweenie” is as much for monster kids as it is for regular kids.

The movie is primarily about something else though. The love between a boy and his dog drives the story. Victor and Sparky are inseparable and the two cling to each other. Being a 87-minute long kid’s film, “Frankenweenie” can only spend so much time on the two’s living relationship. Sparky has to be dead before the twenty minute mark. This could have been a movie about a young boy learning to cope with death. Instead, it’s about how all-abiding love transcends everything. In the movie, Victor loves his dog enough to bring him back from the dead. In real life, we keep our loved ones alive through our memories.

The film wouldn’t be worth much if it couldn’t sell the emotional connection between the kid and his pet. Luckily, Sparky is adorable and charming. During the day, he gets into silly shenanigans, like slipping out a window, swallowing a fly, or chasing after the neighborhood cat. The film does a great job of recreating the way a dog moves and acts. Not as much time is spent on it as I would have liked but you still understand how much Victor loves Sparky. The bound between the two powers the whole film.

The primary theme of love seems a bit at odds with its other theme. Mr. Rzykruski is driven out of town by the ignorant parents for inspiring his students to ask too many questions. Victor is a budding scientist. Mr. Rzykruski recognizes this and has a heart-to-heart with the boy before leaving town. He tells him that a true scientist powers his experiment with love. If a scientist doesn’t love his experiment, the procedure will fail. I think the film was going for something but it kind of pulls this one out of its ass. I think most scientists would agree that emotional investment is actually more likely to ruin an experiment. This attitude is an intentional reversal of classic horror film’s general anti-science subtext. Yet it doesn’t jive well with the film’s true theme of love for lost family members.

Despite being animated, “Frankenweenie” feels more like a Tim Burton movie then his last two live action efforts. The movie is obviously awash with the director’s visual sense. There are no expressionistic sets and only a few black and white spirals. However, the character designs are obviously inspired by the director’s style. A look beneath the surface shows the script is full of Burton trademarks too. Victor is an outcast with few friends, whose obsession makes him too weird for the mainstream. Sparky becomes an outsider too, after rising from the dead, frightening the ignorant neighbors. It’s easy to imagine Elsa, the strange girl next door, as the tween version of “Beetlejuice’s” Lydia. Both are estranged from the grown ups around them and both have a morbid streak. Most notably, “Frankenweenie” returns the director to suburbia. The film shares a spiritual connection with “Edward Scissorhands.” Both are set in a seemingly ideal small town. Strange experiments gone on under the townfolks’ noses. However, the mad scientist and his creation ultimately are more heroic then the hypocritical and image-obsessed people who run the town. These deeper connections to the director’s past works makes “Frankenweenie” a more rewarding experience then his comparatively shallow last few films.

“Frankenweenie” is a remake of a short film. Which is all too obvious some times. The original short focused on Victor and Sparky. In order to reach feature length run time, the story had to be expanded. Thus we are introduced to a gaggle of Victor’s classmates. After discovering Sparky’s resurrection, these kids are determined to create their own undead pets. The antics of the Weird Girl, with her prophecy-pooping cat, and Toshiaki, a borderline racist stereotype, aren’t particularly deep characters. Scenes devoted to them, like Toshi and fat kid Bob making a soda pop jet pack, are mostly there to pad the run time. The last act, were their own resurrected pets wreck havoc on the town, is fun. The movie tries to tie it in with themes of love. That doesn’t totally wash. The sequences are mostly there to give the movie a big, action-packed ending and less because the story needs them.

Don’t get me wrong. Those scenes are fun. The Sea Monkies’ mischievous rampage is highly entertaining. Burton has flirted with kaiju movies throughout his entire career. Shelley the Giant Turtle attacking a carnival finally allows him to put a real giant monster in one of his movies. However, as the last act drags on, the movie looses some of its spark. The demonic Bat Cat becomes the primary villain for no reason. Sparky rescues Victor from the burning wind mill, a moment straight out of the original short. The movie drags on after this natural end point, the flying cat dragging Sparky back into the fire. Clipping this moment would have made “Frankenweenie’s” ending speedier and sweeter.

Another reason to like “Frankenweenie?” Tim left Johnny Depp and Helena at home. The film has the director reuniting with his original favorite leading lady. Or, at least, her voice anyway. Winona Ryder’s willowy, flighty voice is a good match to Elsa, a willowy and flighty character. Burton graduates Catherine O’Hara and Martin Short both voice multiple part. Both are best as Victor’s understanding, if slightly clueless, parents. Short successfully disguises his voice as Mr. Burgemeister, the grouchy town mayor that is responsible for most of the conflict. O’Hara’s weirdest parts are the spaced-out Weird Girl and the portly Gym Teacher. I was disappointed that Martin Landau didn’t pattern his voice after Vincent Price, even though his character was obviously inspired by the actor. The cast of child voice actors is less inspiring. Charlie Tahan doesn’t have much of a voice. His lack of vocal strength makes Victor seem too weak at times. Meanwhile, Atticus Shaffer is never believable as Edgar, a character that is hard to swallow to begin with. Considering veteran vocal performers Dee Bradley Baker and Frank Welker provided the animal noises, maybe Burton should have cast more pro voice actors.

The movie is awash in references to past films to the point that it even references Burton’s movies. Mostly through Danny Elfman’s score. Elfman’s music almost plays like a best-of collection. The foreboding themes recall the “Batman” films. The score even directly quotes the famous Batman theme. Meanwhile, Victor and Sparky’s friendship get their own theme, a sweeping choral piece inspired by “Edward Scissorhands.” The music's meloncholey tone are best heard when Sparky returns to the pet cemetery, realizing his fate, one of the moodiest, saddest moments in the film. And I have to mention the song that plays over the credits, Karen O.’s “Strange Love,” a gorgeous, adorable love song that perfectly matches the film’s quirky tone.

“Frankenweenie” wasn’t very successful at the time, being overshadowed at the box office by the similarly themed if vastly inferior “Hotel Transylvania.” Some thought it was too scary for kids. (The scenes of a Were-Rat roaming school might indeed be too tense for the really little ones.) Perhaps Disney is too short-sighted to realize that both of these things describe “The Nightmare Before Christmas,” which has since become a universally beloved classic. “Frankenweenie” isn’t as good as that film. However, it probably has the distinction of being the director’s best film in quite a while. Or maybe I’m just partial to a spooky love song to a lost dog. [Grade: B]

You can’t predict the future. However, Burton’s next film, “Big Eyes,” is shaping up to be his most interesting project in years. A biopic about kitsch artist Margaret Keane, and her lawsuit against her credit-stealing husband, the film is delightfully free of the director’s usual cast members. It’s a smaller story, hopefully bringing “Big Fish” to mind. Considering Keane painted a portrait for Burton of his then-girlfriend Lisa Marie, the director even seems to have a personal connection to the story. If the movie’s any good, we’ll find out on Christmas of this year. There might still be time for the director to turn his career around.

Thus concludes my Tim Burton Direcor Report Card. It still took longer then expected but twenty-three reviews and two completed retrospectives is probably decent work for a month and change. I’ll be back soon. Also, I never want to use the phrase “expressionistic” ever again.

Director Report Card: Tim Burton (2012) Part 1

15. Dark Shadows

Starting his career as a teen heartthrob, over the years Johnny Depp made the slow transition to quirky leading man. With the major box office success of the “Pirates of the Caribbean” series, Depp became a genuine movie star and studio draw. Using his new found box office clout, Depp went about getting several dream projects made. He wanted to play his childhood heroes before he became too old to do so. Thus, Depp as Tonto in “The Lone Ranger,” Depp as Kolchak in the upcoming “Night Stalker” feature, and Depp as Barnabas Collins in “Dark Shadows.” Tim Burton agreed to direct seemingly as a favor to his friend. When it was announced that Burton and Depp were adapting the kooky and cheesy, and cultishly beloved, supernatural soap opera, myself and many others were expecting a serious horror film. Then that disastrous first trailer hit and it became clear that “Dark Shadows” was not that kind of movie.

Inspired by the series’ most popular storyline, the film has Barnabas Collins, a vampire, being awoken in the 1970s. Cursed to live as a vampire after spurning the advances of a witch, Barnabas has spent the last two-hundred years locked in a coffin. He finds that same witch has taken over the fishing industry that was originally dominated by Barnabas’ family. So now the vampire has several difficulties to overcome. He has to rebuilt the respectability of the Collins family, battle the still living witch, adapt to the seventies, control his vampiric desires, and earn the love of the reincarnation of his lost fiancé.

The biggest problem with “Dark Shadows” is that it can’t decide upon a tone. The exposition-filled opening is solemn, in keeping with the original soap. Barnabas talks about how he became a vampire and earned the scorn of Angelique. Next, we jump ahead to 1972, when new nanny Victoria arrives in Collinsport and quickly accepts the strange family (and ghosts) that lives there. Upon being dug up, however, “Dark Shadows” becomes a wacky, fish-out-of-water comedy. The vampire is baffled by a McDonalds sign, cars, asphalt roads, and the modern amenities of the day. His vampire powers are frequently played for laughs, such as when he and Angelique destroy a room in the throes of love-making. Even then, “Dark Shadows” can’t decide on a tone. The rivalry between Barnabas and Angelique mostly plays like the kind of big genre spectacle Warners Bros. was probably expecting when they gave the flick a green-light. The two toss each other around in the fashion of a modern superhero blockbuster. “Dark Shadows” attempts to be all these things and succeeds at none of them.

The movie can’t even decide on what type of comedy it wants to be. The movie is full of broad gags. Barnabas is confounded by television and thinks that Alice Cooper is an especially ugly woman. During one montage, we see a bunch of goofy vampire related sight gags. Barnabas brushes his two fangs without being to see his reflection, sleeps either in a big shipping box, hanging from a curtain, or curled up in a wardrobe. His head thumps on an electric synthesizer, the music playing throughout the scene. During one especially groan-worthy moment, he recites Steve Miller lyrics. And yet other bits of comedy are in a darker vein. After attempting to befriend a group of hippies, Barnabus kills all of them. More then a few times, he says deeply un-P.C. things about the social issues of the day. Perhaps if the movie had focused on one type of humor over the other, it would have been more consistently funny. As it is now, the movie never generates laughs.

There’s also the problem of Barnabas as your central character. He is, at best, an ineffectual anti-hero. Upon bursting onto the scene, he kills ten innocent people. Despite being the hero of the film, he ranks up a surprisingly high body count. And none of those folks deserved to die. For reasons the script never backs up, the movie tries to play him as a sexual dynamo that is irresistible to women. Over the run time, four different women throw themselves at him. The most inexplicable of these is Helena Bonham Carter’s Dr. Hoffman, who goes down on him after one measly flattering comment. Upon discovering that the doctor is trying to turn herself into a vampire, Barnabas kills her too in probably the most graphic blood-sucking of the film. The ending tries to sell Barnabas as a romantic hero, having defeated the witch and regain the love of his (after)life. Yet a lame sequel hook shows Dr. Hoffman springing back to life under the sea. Not only is Barnabas a remorseless murderer, he’s not even good at covering his tracks.

Since the movie is based on a soap, it has the problem of having to toss in several competing story lines. The movie is about Barnabas and Angelique’s rivalry. Except for when its about Barnabas and the modern Collins family learning to live together. A plot detail that is frequently lost in the shuffle, and probably should have been focused on more, is Barnabas’ romance with Victoria. They have only four scenes together, I think. There’s little chemistry between Johnny Depp and Bella Heathcote. Even then, there’s other story lines competing for screen time. What about orphan David, who interacts with his mother’s ghost? What about his philandering father, who awkwardly disappears halfway through the film? And here’s Chloe Moretz as a rebellious teenager who is also a werewolf, we find out at the last minute. There’s just a little too much going on in “Dark Shadows.”

For all its tonal back-and-forth, the action packed finale is one of the more innovative things about “Dark Shadows.” Eva Green’s skin begins to crack like a china doll when injured. The final showdown takes place in the middle of the Collins mansion. Using her powers, Angelique makes the paintings on the wall bleed. The wooden statues spring to life, grabbing at the family. Dramatically, flames bursts over the stair. My favorite bit is when the staircase banister leaps to life as a snake. “Dark Shadows” fizzles out afterwards but for those brief moments, it’s actually exciting.

Considering the movie is more-or-less his vanity project, you’d think Johnny Depp would give a better performance. It seems like Depp can’t get a bead on the character either. Barnabas is played as a comedic straight man, reacting cluelessly to the events around him. Except for when he’s a foppish dandy, strutting about like the 1700s never ended. The comedy is tone-deaf but Depp seems more comfortable with it. Whenever Barnabas has to be a romantic lead or an action hero, Depp is more uncertain. The lack of chemistry with his love interest and his lack of heroic conviction make both roles an awkward fit for Depp’s Barnabas.

Slightly better is Eva Green as Angelique. One of the problems with Depp’s character arc is that you have to believe that he doesn’t want to sleep with Eva Green. When she’s looking as spectacular as she does in this film, that’s a hard pill to swallow. It’s not just that she looks great. Green packs the role full of fantastically entertaining villainous intent. She also makes sure Angelique’s motivations are more complex then simple villainy. There’s some tragedy in her as she destroys herself for a man that doesn’t love her. It’s not unfair to say the movie probably would have been interesting if it was about her.

Burton continues to be good about filling his supporting casts with strong actors, even if the scripts aren’t up to the same quality. Burton hasn’t worked with Michelle Pfeiffer since “Batman Returns.” She isn’t around enough in general. Her role here mostly limits her to shouting sternly about the state of the family business. There’s little comedic bite around her attempts to keep Depp in line. But at least she looks pretty bad ass carrying a shotgun. The rest of the Collins family are similarly problematic. Chloe Moretz slinks around in mini-skirts, which I’m sure her creepy internet fan base loved. She brings some okay attitude to the role but doesn’t expand beyond “snarky teenager” very much. Her late film werewolf transformation is fairly embarrassing, though even an actress as strong as Chloe can’t make those ridiculous one-liners work.

Also embarrassing is Helena Bonham Carter as Dr. Hoffman, who is boozy and floozy without much substance at all. Johnny Lee Miller is similarly thin as the bitchy Roger Collins. Jackie Earle Haley provides some laughs as Willie Loomis. Bella Heathcote sleepwalks through her duel role as Victoria and Josette. Christopher Lee and Alice Cooper stop by for cameos even if their bit parts aren’t particularly memorable.

For a film set primarily at a spooky, old gothic mansion, you’d expect more of Tim Burton’s style to show up. Not really. I suppose Barnabas could be considered a typical Burton-style outsider, even if he’s not very sympathetic. There are no black and white spirals or slanty Caligari sets in sight. The set design is still gorgeous though. I especially love the elaborate secret passageway that includes a suite of howling wolves and a moving fireplace. The central atrium, with its spooky paintings of dead ancestors, feels very much like the original series if it had money. Danny Elfman’s score is appropriately gothic and includes some retro John Carpenter style synth to fit the era. For the most part though, “Dark Shadows” might as well be directed as Bret Ratner.

“Dark Shadows” was a substantial bomb though not quite on the same level as Depp’s other vanity project the next year. Considering the public's continued interest in supernatural romance, that should tell you how bad those trailers were. The saddest thing about “Dark Shadows” is that, even if it had cleaned up its muddled screenplay and had a more likable protagonists, it probably still wouldn't have been very good. [Grade: C]

Director Report Card: Tim Burton (2010)

14. Alice in Wonderland

Once upon a time, Tim Burton probably would have made a pretty good adaptation of “Alice in Wonderland.” The director has a decent grasp on the absurd. His tendency to sneak darkness and weirdness into mainstream products makes you imagine a truly odd, and sometimes frightening, Wonderland. I’m picturing a blonde Winona Ryder exploring a Wonderland full of black-and-white spirals and creepy, stop-motion puppets based off of John Tenniel’s original illustrations. By 2010, sadly, that Tim Burton was gone. This “Alice in Wonderland” is, instead, a dispassionate action-fantasy flick made by a bored filmmaker.

“Alice” tries to have it both ways. It was sold as an adaptation of the classic story but is, instead, a sequel. Alice isn’t a little girl but a twenty year old woman, on the verge of adulthood. After fleeing her engagement party, she chases after the same White Rabbit and stumbles down the same strange hole in the ground. Despite having lived these events before, Alice goes through many of the familiar motions. There’s a slow-motion fall through an anti-gravity tunnel, a room where she shrinks and grows, a tea party with the Mad Hatter and the March Hare, a croquet game with flamingo clubs and hedgehog balls, and a meeting with a Cheshire Cat and a hooka smoking caterpillar. Ultimately, the film is telling a different story, where Alice is an action hero who has to save Wonderland from a tyrannical Red Queen and slay a fearsome Jabberwocky.

There have been many versions of “Alice in Wonderland” over the years: The Disney version, the Czech abstract version, the goth video game version, the anime version, the porno version. This appears to be the version of the story rolled through the Hollywood blockbuster machine, with as many as its eccentricities smoothed out as possible. This is most obvious in the story’s treatment of Alice herself. She’s given the bland character arc of a rebel buckling against conformity. Alice finds her own destiny at the end, as she must. This is odd since the rest of the movie is all about putting her on a pre-destined path. The film regurgitates the tired cliché of the Chosen One, the hero that will save the world as foretold in the ancient prophecy. This is an especially bad fit for Alice but the movie rolls with it anyway, mentioning the prophecy as many times as possible. The movie even gets her in a suit of armor, has her swinging a sword, and dropping an one-liner.

Wonderland and its inhabitants don’t survive the blanding process either. Wonderland itself is shockingly short on wonder. Instead, its grey and drab, a post-war world full of dead trees. The iconic characters are squeezed uncomfortably into established types. The Caterpillar becomes a Yoda-like wise old sage. The Red Queen is a shrieking super villain. The Jabberwocky is a generic dragon, that lumbers like a dinosaur and breathes lightening. The Dormouse is a sword wielding rogue. Worst of all, the Mad Hatter becomes Alice’s love interest, a truly gross decision. Save for some lame attempts to recreate Lewis Carrol’s nonsense prose, 2010’s “Alice in Wonderland” squeezes all the personality out of the source material.

Increasingly, the best things about Burton’s films are their incredible set design. Even “Planet of the Apes” had amazing sets. With “Alice in Wonderland,” the director gave up practical sets for CGI and green screens. This is not a good thing. So much of Wonderland is made in a computer that there’s little weight, grit, or plausibility to the setting. Characters leap around without any care for gravity or physics. Weirdly, despite the amount of money surely spent on it, the effects look very cheap. Worst then the green screen sets are the way live actors and CGI effects are awkwardly fused. Helena Bohnam Carter’s head is blown up to huge size and stuck on a tiny CGI body. Crispin Glover’s legs are stretched out. Matt Lucas’ face is plastered on two rotund, plastic-looking bodies. The effect is more off-putting then cutting edge.

The movie also widely participates in what I call “3D eye-gouging.” That’s a habit engaged in by most 3D flicks but more frequently in the modern day version of the technology. It’s when shit on screen is tossed directly at the viewer, a distracting and obnoxious attempt to remind the audience they’re watching a 3-D film. “Alice in Wonderland” tosses all sorts of things into the watcher’s face: Teacups, birds, lightening, swords, spears, hats, Jabberwockies and Bandersnatches. The movie does it so much that it ceases to be a natural part of the film and becomes a gimmick, continuously taking the watcher out of the film and reminding them they’re watching a movie.

In previous incarnations of the story, Alice was the only centering force in a chaotic, intentionally unfocused story. This “Wonderland” is far more stream-lined but Alice is still the calm center. The film seriously raised the profile of Mia Wasikowska. In a Hollywood overpopulated with British waifs, Wasikowska’s versatility and ability to endear an audience’s sympathy makes her stand out. Wasikowska is one of the best things about “Alice in Wonderland.” The script does not give her much to work with. Indeed, the character repeats the same cycle for most of the first half, bouncing between believing and not believing. Yet Wasikowska is always easy to watch. She winds up making the film far more likable then it would have been otherwise.

She’s certainly more likable then the film’s other major star. This movie marked the point where I officially became sick of Johnny Depp’s bullshit. After the “Pirates of the Caribbean” series made him a major star, the actor’s choices in roles have become less interesting. In “Alice,” he does his typical thing. He wears a ridiculous hat, hideous white face-paint, obviously artificial contact lens, fake teeth, and an awful, frizzy red wig. He switches randomly between accents, an aggressively irritating quirk. The film gives him a major role in the story, a move ill-suited to the character. Depp’s Mad Hatter isn’t particularly mad, playing on the same level as any of Burton’s other eccentric protagonists.

Even more aggravating, the film had the perfect Mad Hatter right there in the shape of Crispin Glover. Imagine how mad Glover’s hatter would have been. Instead, the actor plays the Red Queen’s primary henchman. Glover brings some of his trademark twitchy intensity to the part but he’s mostly going through the villainous steps. The film packs its supporting cast full of great character actors. None of them are given much to do. Stephen Fry’s quiet wit makes him an ideal Cheshire Cat. Alan Rickman’s dry tone is well-suited to the Caterpillar. Anne Hathaway’s trademark sunniness is a good fit for the irrepressibly positive White Queen. All the actors are well cast yet the script only has simple, cliched parts for them to play.

With the exception of Helena Bohnam Carter. Mrs. Tim Burton plays the part as shrill as possible. Despite being the film’s primary villain, the Red Queen is such a joke that you never buy her as a serious threat. The giant head gimmick is more bizarre then funny. The character would be the worst thing about the film if it wasn’t for one specific moment: The Fudderwacking. Jesus Christ, the Fudderwacking. The Mad Hatter celebrates the good guys’ victory by breakdancing, essentially. The film stops dead to showcase this. It is easily the nadir of Tim Burton’s career which is really saying something given his current state.

At least there’s some distinctively Burton-esque imagery here. Upon entering Wonderland, Alice sees a gnarled, grey forest with weird topiary animals rising above. The Tree of the Dead from “Sleepy Hollow” makes a cameo appearance not long after that. Those black and white stripes make an appearance, like in Twiddledee and Twiddledumb’s shirts. Much of the film could have been directed by anyone but at least Burton sneaked in enough of his usual trademarks to identify it as his own.

Despite not being very good, “Alice in Wonderland” made an astonishing amount of money. It’s actually Tim Burton’s most financially successful film, cracking the top ten list of highest grossing films. The film was such a big hit that it started a new trend of dark and gritty re-imaging of classic fairy tales. Just from Disney, the nearly identical “Oz: The Great and Powerful” and “Maleficent” are already out, with “Cinderella,” “Beauty and the Beast,” and “Alice in Wonderland 2” (which Burton is thankfully not directing) coming soon. I’m not even mentioning all the other similar projects that have come along. You can’t explain the public’s taste. The film is just the latest example of Burton’s slow transformation into a boring studio workhorse. [Grade: C-]