tim
burton
It should come as no shock to the fans of director Tim Burton that
he spent his formative years glued to the tube, watching old cartoons
and horror flicks. Such early influences no doubt helped to form
the deliciously ghoulish and artfully warped sensibility of a director
who was to become known for his forays into the bizarre outer regions
of mainstream celluloid. The emphasis on "mainstream"
is notable: Burton's career has been distinguished in part by the
director's skillful ability to remain just inside the realm of the
mainstream while producing work of a decidedly unconventional vision.
A native son of Southern California, Burton was born in Burbank
on August 25, 1958. He never really took to suburbia, where he
was raised, and instead of joining little league or selling lemonade
spent his time drawing, watching old horror movies, and reading
the works of Edgar Allan Poe. Winning a scholarship in 1980 to
the Disney-created California Institute of the Arts, Burton went
to work as an apprentice animator at Disney. It was an aesthetically
and financially dead period for Disney animation (megahits like
The Little Mermaid were years in the future), and Burton's most
vivid memories of his time at the studio were of constant firings,
ill-will, indecisiveness, and paranoia. He felt decidedly out
of place working on cartoons like The Fox and the Hound, later
saying "I was just not Disney material. I could just not
draw cute foxes for the life of me." For their part, the
Disney higher-ups weren't interested in any of Burton's independent
ideas, and refused to release his 1984 short Frankenweenie on
the grounds that it was "unsuitable" for children. His
first animated short, Vincent -- a 1982 tribute to his idol Vincent
Price, who also narrated the film -- met with a similarly cool
reception from Disney executives.
After leaving Disney, Burton found both greater creative freedom
and commercial success thanks in part to actor/comedian Paul Reubens,
who was looking for someone to helm a film about his alter-ego,
Pee-Wee Herman. Reubens had watched Frankenweenie; impressed with
what he saw, he helped to get Burton hired on as the director
of Pee-Wee's Big Adventure (1985). Burton wisely treated the whole
project like a live-action Looney Tune, and the film, originally
intended for limited release as a kid's picture, became one of
Warner Bros.' biggest hits of the early '80s. Pee-Wee's Big Adventure
led to the director's next project, Beetlejuice (1988), a comic
twist on all the "Shock Theatre" pictures that had kept
him up late as a child. The success of the film led to a job directing
the 1989 big-budget version of Batman; a darkly lavish, gothic
production, the film proved to be a huge hit, securing Burton
a place on the roster of A-list directors.
His next film, 1990's Edward Scissorhands, had a lot in common
with Burton's earlier Frankenweenie. It was the tale of an artificial
boy put together by a benign scientist (Vincent Price again, in
one of his last performances), who unfortunately dies before he
can complete the boy; as a result, the fabricated youth has hedge
clipper-like scissors for hands. Alternately frightening, funny,
and touching, Edward Scissorhands proved that Burton could inject
humanity and audience empathy into an otherwise unbelievable yarn.
By this point Burton was able to write his own Hollywood ticket,
which resulted in a lucrative contractual arrangement with his
one-time employer, Disney. The company that once refused to release
his work now practically tripped over itself giving him carte
blanche to produce his next project, a stop-motion animated cartoon
about the King of Halloween kidnapping Santa Claus. The film came
to fruition as 1993's The Nightmare Before Christmas; although
it wasn't the hit everyone hoped it would be, Nightmare was irrevocably
Burton's film and his film alone, from drawing board to final
release. Disney also put Frankenweenie into mass-market distribution
at long last, running the onetime "untouchable" film
over and over again on cable's Disney Channel.
In addition to his series of successes, there have been a few
missteps in Burton's career, notably the lackluster Family Dog
(1993), a TV cartoon series co-produced by Steven Spielberg; there
was also the middling Cabin Boy, a 1994 film vehicle for Chris
Elliott which Burton co-produced. In 1994, Burton again rode high
in film-critic circles thanks to his long-awaited Ed Wood (1994),
the biopic of another visionary filmmaker, Edward D. Wood Jr.,
widely celebrated as the worst director in movie history. Burton
well understood how it feels to be unappreciated for one's enthusiasms,
and Ed Wood, deliberately filmed to emulate Wood's seedy visual
style, has emerged as one of the most affectionate film biographies
ever made.
After producing the 1995 Batman sequel, Batman Forever, Burton
returned returned to the animation style of Nightmare Before Christmas
with a 1996 adaptation of Roald Dahl's classic James and the Giant
Peach. Later that year, he had great fun using an all-star cast
in his spoof/homage to 1950s horror movies, Mars Attacks! Overshadowed
by the simultaneous release of the mega-budgeted Independence
Day (1996), and uneven with its blend of humor and sci-fi horror,
Mars Attacks! was the sort of film that might have made Ed Wood
proud. In 1999, Burton returned to the director's chair with Sleepy
Hollow, an adaptation of Washington Irving's The Legend of Sleep
Hollow. Starring Burton regular Johnny Depp and Christina Ricci,
the film promised moviegoers another dose of the lush, gothic
sensibility that Burton served up with such flair.
In 2001, Burton took to the director's chair in an attempt at
reviving another dormant franchise, The Planet of the Apes. Promising
a "re-imagination" of the ape planet concept rather
than a straight remake, Burton's version of the film stars Mark
Wahlberg stepping into Charlton Heston's shoes as the astronaut
stranded in unfamiliar simian territory.
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