"Big Eyes"

Tim Burton’s new film has been noted by many as something of anomaly in his career. Not only is it his first film since Beetlejuice not to feature a single actor or actress he has worked with before, it also looks very different from the gothic expressionism of his most famous work. The pastel colour palette seen in Big Fish and Charlie And The Chocolate Factory is still present but in a subtly dimmed form, allowing Bruno Delbonnel’s magnificent lighting to imbue the shots with estival warmth. The same is true with the themes and forms Burton holds dear, and while it may not be one of his most accomplished films, Big Eyes still provides an unmistakably personal study of art and identity.

Considering how consistently he has championed the marginalized and defended kitsch, Burton’s interest in the true story of Margaret Keane (Amy Adams) – whose paintings of big-eyed waifs were appropriated by her tyrannical husband Walter (Christoph Waltz) and derided by art critics – is not surprising. What is both surprising and ultimately disappointing is the lack of empathy he and screenwriters Scott Alexander & Larry Karaszewski exhibit towards Walter Keane, a con artist who desperately wished to be real artist. You’d think the team whose Ed Wood made the world’s worst filmmaker a spokesman for the unparalleled joy of creation would at least understand Keane’s desire to experience that same joy and demonstrate compassion for his incapacity to experience it without justifying his wrongdoing. Briefly and insufficiently acknowledged, that frustrated drive is quickly used to turn Keane into a grimacing ogre who would be better-suited to Burton’s more expressionist ventures. Without a firm directorial hand holding him steady, the already questionable casting of Christoph Waltz as Walter turns into the film’s biggest problem; his over-exaggeration of conman smarminess is such that it becomes difficult to tell who of the actor or the character is seeking the most attention, and the film’s discourse on art and misogyny gets temporarily drowned out.

The latter part of that discourse, while neither the best-realized, is nonetheless something to take note of, as Burton’s cinematic universe has always thrived on 50s-60s nostalgia. To see him address one of the period’s less savoury aspects – its rigid gender roles and generalized casual sexism – is quite refreshing. Amy Adams’s performance alone serves as an accurate critique of both socially-constructed gender roles, women’s internalization of them and art’s affirmation of them. Her frightened, apprehensive eyes, unevenly assured demeanour and blonde hair evokes some of the “women in peril” from Hitchcock films of the time such as Grace Kelly in Dial M For Murder and Tippi Hedren in The Birds. It does a more effective job of conveying the internalized misogyny behind her lack of resistance than any dialogue about the need for money or a father for her daughter ever could. Feminists may raise an eyebrow or two at the film’s benevolent portrayal of the Jehovah’s Witnesses as the key to Margaret Keane’s independence and well-being, but it fits perfectly with Burton’s identification with outsiders, however conservative their own values might be.

“Art” says Terence Stamp’s steely-eyed art critic, “should elevate, not pander.” A highly significant line in light of the many criticisms levied towards Burton for his supposed pandering to fans. One could see Big Eyes as his own fairly nuanced response to that criticism, using Alexander and Karaszewski as willing conduits the same way Walter used Margaret as an unwilling puppet. Through this film, Burton argues that a work of art’s quality is not nearly as important as its sincerity, and that it in fact is impossible for art to even be qualified as such if it is not the product of the creator’s own ideas, desires and feelings. Therefore, as they did with Ed Wood but with less tact and incisiveness, Burton and his screenwriters maintain that the worst of a passionate creator is still worth more than a product tailor-made to suit popular appeal, no matter how slick it may appear.