Tim Burton’s Dark Shadows (2012) reminds me that contained, stock plots and
characters can be great. Allowing the proverbial “child in me” to see the
wonderment of kitsch, as if it were the first time, and then rip it to shreds,
calling its bluff, as if I never had before.
This is the sort of family film that initiates the child
into the the good, the bad, and the confusing of the world: introducing its
characters, themes, and situations in an overture that also sets the seeds for the child’s critical
resistance.
This is the sort of family film that stands strong in the face of the hip, current, moment that we live in. Knowingly outdated, it gives its clichés over to audiences and critics (who have deemed it “dated,”
“tiresome,” “tedious”) as a punching bag. But if we allow it to get under our skins, those same
negative qualities become powerful testaments to the magic of mythic
archetypes. Like the protagonist in a Caspar David Freidrich painting (the
film makes many a reference to this painter), each time we view the moon, it is
as if it is for the first time! Despite the scoffing cynics, who claim, “it’s
only the moon.”
This tension between the stale and the fresh, the boring and the sublime, finds its mirror in the plot:
This tension between the stale and the fresh, the boring and the sublime, finds its mirror in the plot:
Back in the late 1700s, Depp’s character
Barnabus, a small town prince, does not return the affection of the witch Angelique, so she kills his girlfriend, turns Barn' into a vampire, and has him
buried alive by a mob. He's dug out in the 1970s, brought into a world
that is humorously foreign to him. He is startled by new technology, new
fashion, and new politics (particularly female rights). And everyone else is
equally startled by his archaic ways: gothic, exaggerated, Dandyish,
old-fashioned but also sexy and stylish.
The Burtonian irony comes from the fact that
the 70s itself, with its lava lamps, happenings, and beehive hairdos, seems
dated and ludicrous. Everything of the past is morphed into parody through
Burton’s eyes. But by now we’re used to Burton’s nostalgic visions. In fact,
one feels the film deserves its bad reviews “Burton is merely relying on the
same-old formula.”
The film has become the very nostalgic trash Burton seeks
to make relevant for the contemporary masses. In fact, it is even lower in mainstream fashionable relevance than the source material it rips from (Dark Shadows: TV soap opera, 1966-1971).
Now it is Burton that needs revamping, redemption, and relevance-boosting. He'll have to outshine his rivals and convince the very young that he is at least relevant enough to be the subject of a parodic
homage.
Likewise, in order to redeem himself, Depp’s character, Barnabus must
humiliate his only living contemporary, Angelique, the bitch/witch who cursed him (by exposing her to be so contained and old that her skins
cracks and crumbles when punched: revealing a hollow interior)...and then sink his
teeth into the flesh of a young girl, herself a genius (struck by haunting
“visions” created from figments of Barnabus’ own past). Barnabus does precisely what
Burton must do: hypnotize the young into taking cultish interest in his dated
style.
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Depp’s characters have long figured as a stand-in for Burton. Starting with the sexy teen outsider
Edward Scissorhands, a grandiose fantasy of Burton’s life as an eccentric artist
growing up in the suburbs. When Burton was chained to Disney during the
production of Alice in Wonderland; the Mad Hatter (played by Depp) was held
prisoner in the Red Queen’s palace, which looked uncannily similar to the
Disney Castle.
These freakish caricatures that
Depp has portrayed have always annoyed me for retaining cuteness despite representing Burton’s twisted fantasies of self-loathing: the emoting emo outsider (Edward, 1990), the Wacko
Jacko pedo (Wonka, 2005), the schizophrenic artist (Mad Hatter, 2010), and the psychopathically
vengeful barber (Todd) are all turned into heartthrobs, whose quirks (many of
which resemble stereotypical gay mannerisms) just make them more endearing and
sexy. And in Dark Shadows, disgustingly, this weird teen hearthrob has grown up...but his love interest has remained a teenager.
I guess I've been bitten because I suddenly wish to grant Burton and Depp the redemption they've never needed from me, give my youth over to the worship of their cult, and herald them as masters of contemporary cinema.
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