Spoiler Alert!
Some major plot details, including the ending, are revealed in the review below. While I do not believe that reading this review will detract from your movie-going experience (the movie itself takes care of that), those of you that would like to see Big Fish without any prior knowledge would be well advised to exit this page now and return after you have seen the disappointment that is Big Fish.
“From the imagination of Tim Burton.” What a phrase...what a place! Wouldn’t you like to know what runs through the mind of the man who gave us the first two (and best) Batmans, Beetlejuice, and Sleepy Hollow? For anyone who ever wanted to know, then they would be well advised to check out Big Fish, his latest opus. Visually, and from a storytelling standpoint, Big Fish congers memories of such classics like Alice in Wonderland and (dare I say it?) The Wizard of Oz. Despite this though, there is something off about Big Fish. I could sense it when I left the theatre, and it took me a while to realize what was holding me back from truly enjoying this movie...I hated the main character!
December 2003 Archive
Big Fish is a story about tall tales, but a case could be made that the movie itself is a tall tale, as nothing about the movie seems like it could be real. Of course there are the elements that aren’t supposed to be real at all, but are rather figments of Edward’s rather independent imagination (wolf-men, a huge fish, a giant, a witch which can forecast your death, etc.). Yet things that are supposed to be “real” are instead heavy-handed, forced, and condescending. What do I mean by this? Well, Edward has no flaws. He is perfect to everyone around him, except to his son who (in my opinion, rightfully) sees his father as selfish, and nothing more than a very good story-teller. The plot of the story revolves around Edward’s son William coming to terms with his father as a man and as a father during the final days of Edward’s life, and in the end, that is exactly what happens. When Edward is on his death-bed, William “learns his lesson” and realizes that he has been stupid, and his father is in fact everything people say he is: perfect. Screenwriter John August and Tim Burton (I have a special place in my heart for John, for writing both Charlie’s Angels and its sequel, but let’s face it, a pre-schooler could have written better scripts for those movies) turn a delicate father-son drama into a hero-villain story, making the son into a cold-hearted scrooge, simply because he doesn’t bow-down to Edward as everyone else does. Even the final scene, Edward’s funeral, is a slap in the face to the son who is the only character who saw Edward for exactly who he was. Its never a good thing when the audience can see through the characters and right to the bad script, but that’s exactly what happens!
The performances in Big Fish are so-so. Ewan McGregor does a good job, but its so hard to praise his performance when you hate the character he portrays. Albert Finney is very stiff and wooden, belting out an arrogant all-knowing quip in a deep southern drawl every now and then. Jessica Lange and Tim Burton’s squeeze Helena Bonham Carter take supporting roles and do a fine job. Billy Crudup is good as William, but like Albert Finney, he is very wooden. The art direction and lavish sets of Big Fish is the real story of the movie. They are breathtaking and the only real perk to the movie.
Would anyone say that Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz was unlikable, arrogant, and an all-around ass? Of course not, and if she was, then The Wizard of Oz would only be remembered for the music and sets. Well, Big Fish will likely only be remembered for its sets and music (the soundtrack is very good), because unlike Dorothy, Edward is an arrogant, unlikable ass. How can you possibly like or sympathize a character who has no flaws, and believes himself to be right all the time, no matter what? I know I can’t. Big Fish drips with condescension, and despite the potential that I harbored for Big Fish as I walked into the theatre, all the surrealistic sets in the world can’t change the fact that this is simply a poorly written, and badly directed.
Grade: D+
© 2004 Jacob Sproul
2003 Archive
Main Archive