Edward Scissorhands

Edward Scissorhands {Tim Burton, 1990}



Its really tragic that Tim Burton's inner child as a method of cinematic articulation has had the adverse effect of prefacing a sort of "eyeliner manifesto." For a whole generation of delusional, upper to middle class junior high mall-rats, this film is a fashion staple for those teens bent on externalizing their angst with as much leather as possible. Tim Burton seems to have intended a far more personal allegory dealing with alienation and abandonment, but instead his childhood drawings from which the basis of the film was derived, have been robbed of their originality by the greedy tentacles of gothic cult mania. If removed from its post-premiere ripple effect, however, Burton's magical vision stands as pruned and flawless as one of the eponymous Eddie's garden sculpture's.

The film is a treat for those who are used to sorting a difficult subtext. Its wonderfully straightforward, without relinquishing any of the depth in its social commentary. It's like Burton sits you down in the back yard, in a prim yellow lawn chair, puts you at ease with a shoulder touch of quirky simplicity, and then proceeds to dexterously sheer out a new hairdo without you ever having noticed a thing. Tim Burton makes his film so easy to read that exploring the different platitudes of the story itself seems irrelevant. This is a movie you should just see, as stupid as that sounds, because you'll get it better than if I stammer in this review to summarize this efficient, autonomous piece of film.