Thursday, 18 March 2004
Big Fish
Tim Burton is a personal favorite of mine: he's silly, whimsical, and childish - all in the very best ways. Sometimes his best intentions result in a very bad movie (Mars Attacks!, Planet of the Apes). Other times, it's nothing short of pure genius (Edward Scissorhands, Beetlejuice). Few people can bring us simple joys like Pee-wee's Big Adventure with such relish as someone who's fully in touch with his "inner child."
Make no mistake, it's Burton's inner child who's at the helm of Big Fish. Bookended by a bigger-than life Ewan McGregor and a stately (and understated) Jessica Lange, life is viewed from the height of a child looking up - with all the distortion and exaggeration that implies.
Only Billy Crudup seems to miss out on the joke, at times resembling the one older kid who spoils the mysteries of Santa Claus, wanting so much to impress his younger friends with his adult "wisdom." But Albert Finney, the child hidden behind an dying old man's face, is ready to fight fire with fire. No wonder Crudup looks so upset: it's hard to be taken seriously when your own father is more open to living life than you are.
And that's the key: being open to living life, even if it means that "life" doesn't necessarily match "reality." We all need something bigger than us, something that we can look to for inspiration and guidance. Religions and their gods serve to inspire us as well frighten us. McGregor's Ed Bloom inspires; Finney's elder version frightens. As the once-devoted son, Crudup has been disappointed and shamed by the fallibility of his father - failings that are just as giant as any of the senior Bloom's purported achievements.
Is this film manipulative? Sure. Is it overly (and overtly) sentimental? You bet. But if Burton is willing to hide a prize in the caramel corn, I'm more than happy to work my way through it. Treats like Helena Bonham Carter (Best. Modern. Grimm. Rendition. Ever.), the sparkling Alison Lohman (who I never doubted for a moment will become Jessica Lange), and Burton's ever-faithful Danny Elfman's score aren't obstacles - they're prizes in themselves.
Like a conductor who knows his symphony as he knows his own heart, Burton works his ensemble cast through hamminess, sweetness, simplistic solutions and improbable feats. This was orchestrated in the same way only a classic fairy tale could be. Burton and his team kept coming at me, then backing down, only to reach crescendo when my guard was back down again.
By the end, sitting next to the hospital bed, my vision was blurring. With the elegiac sendoff that itself was bigger than life, it was all I could do to hold back the tears. So I didn't, and they came from both eyes. And from just about every other eye around me.
Few on Earth could ever take on the stature of a god. But for Burton, and for every single child who's ever lived, our parents have been our idols. If only for a brief moment, and even if long-delayed, we look towards the only people who could ever be greater than ourselves - and we see what we can become.
5 / 5 : for anyone who has ever looked to the unattainable, and for those who are already there
Comments
I don't know how I stumbled accross this page... avoiding reality can be rewarding huh?
I agree wholeheartedly with your (ahem) review of this beautiful movie. I am curious to hear your thoughts (i.e. opinions) on the movie "Amelie". - Granted, I have not 'dug around' in your archives... I will now and see if it is in there.
Falo's Halo