If you grew up in the ‘80s and ‘90s, there is no doubt that an image created by Tim Burton has been permanently etched into your brain.
Like this one from Edward Scissorhands:
Or this one from Beetlejuice:
Or maybe this one from Batman Returns:
Burton’s signature blend of Gothic aesthetics, German expressionism (Fritz Lang, et al), and fantastical flights of whimsy have permeated our culture (and nightmares) in ways most directors could only dream of. He’s a visionary in every sense of the word, conjuring one-of-a-kind images and stories and synthesizing them in a wholly unique way.
And yet, when we talk about the great living directors, he is notably absent from the conversation.
Steven Spielberg, yes. Martin Scorsese, of course. Denis Villeneuve, you bet. Greta Gerwig, obviously. Spike Lee, yup.
Each of these directors are legendary in their own ways. But just as they are singular in their artistic vision, none of them have the inner-makings to convey the world as Burton sees it.
A world of timeless iconography…
uncanny set designs…
beloved outsiders…
Pee-wee’s Big Adventure
storybook romances…
and breathtaking cinematography.
A world so realized, I can’t imagine movies without it.
As a kid, Burton’s world shocked me, scared me, inspired me, challenged me, awed me. It set the template for what movies are and can be.
And it ushered me into adulthood like baby Cobblepot into the sewers of Gotham, forever chasing that Tim Burton feeling of experiencing something new, profound, and exciting at the movies.
As I consider his legacy today, I’m reminded of this quote by Orson Welles (played by Vincent D’Onofrio) in Burton’s Ed Wood:
Visions are worth fighting for. Why spend your life making someone else’s dreams?
Wherever he stands in the public’s consciousness or film community’s discourse, he can rest assured knowing he made the hell out of his dreams.
