EDWARD SCISSORHANDS
A film review by Frank Maloney
Copyright 1990 Frank Maloney
Tim Burton is the director who brought us BEETLEJUICE, BATMAN, and now EDWARD SCISSORHANDS. EDWARD SCISSORHANDS is, briefly speaking, a kind of fairy tale version of FRANKENSTEIN, but unfortunately the fairy tale element is not made clear early on and the enormous holes in the story are pretty darn distracting until you accept the conventions of fairy tales and throw logic and verisimilitude onto the trash heap (if you do).
There are indeed yawning chasms in the story's logic which are only bridged by the sense of wonder and delight which Johnny Depp elicits in your humble poster. OK, I'm going to be perfectly frank with you and say I have not a clue as to who Johnny Depp is, what he does, or even what he looks if he doesn't look like Edward Scissorhands. I have it in my mind that he might be a musician. But actor or musician, pre-Edward, he ought to be recognized from now own as a brilliant comedic actor, highly reminiscent of Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton. I have to say that his performance is nothing less than inspired; it absolutely saves the movie from its own inconsistencies and illogic.
On the other hand, or scissors, Winona Ryder is completely lost inside her blonde wig in this movie, to say nothing of wasted. Burton seems to have directed her to shed all hints of personality. Quite honestly, any presentable young woman off the street could have delivered the same performance.
Fortunately for me, she is shines with intense brilliance in another Christmas movie this season, MERMAIDS, otherwise I might write her off as completely forgetable.
Diane Wiess plays Winona's mother, an Avon lady who discovers Edward in his castle on the edge of the most outrageously bland subdivision ever put on film; Burton out-Waters John Waters in his vision of a pastel hell. Wiess is her usual, reliable, wonderful self; mothering, protecting, always slightly out of synch with the world she lives in. When she enters the castle, which was decorated by a spacey descendant of the person who did up Dracula's, and she says "It's your Avon lady," it's completely right.
Burton, the director, shines in the look and feel of EDWARD SCISSORHANDS, but his story sense is as out of control as ever. And will he realize that Danny Elfman's music is as irritating and distracting as it is ugly and pretentious, and stop using him?
Another surprising deficiency were the models and mattes used to establish the castle and the suburb. Completely unconvincing, embarrassingly obvious. For a movie that puts such an emphasis on its look, has spent lots of time and money on special effects, make-up, and cutlery, this seems especially odd.
But to end this on a positive note, let me mention the small role of the Scientist as played by Vincent Price, who is looking rather old and frail these days, but is still an icon to be reckoned with. It was the Scientist who created Edward and died before he could give him hands. In a flashback, we visit his laboratory cum factory. He is not so much a Mad Scientist, as he is a Whimsical Scientist; his machines are humorously anthropomorphic and I for one will forever envy him his cookie cutters.
I recommend EDWARD SCISSORHANDS if you can leave your logic in the lobby; only then will you enjoy it as it should be enjoyed.
-- Frank Richard Aloysius Jude Maloney .
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