Big Fish
© James C. Hess
About a month ago a fan of my writing, in its various forms, sent along a note that got me to thinking. Thinking that has come to the same conclusion the note suggested. But before I reveal that conclusion allow me to repeat the basis of this missive, which was that I am a good writer, and deserve a wider audience than I presently have, but won't have for reasons unknown. The writer of this note said they were going to try and figure out why this was. So that goes to explain the second note that arrived just yesterday: The reason I do not have a larger audience than I do is because I find joy and pleasure, delight and happiness, in all that I experience and in today's world, defined much by anhedonia, that just ain't right.
Yes, well. Perhaps I would have a greater audience than I do were I to sit in the dirt and mud with my fellow critics and reviewers, beating the breast and howl, howl, howling. But that ain't happening.
Now. Why is it I find such satisfaction in all that I experience when others around me don't? What is it about me that sets me apart from others?
Well, apart from the majority, at least. I am inclined to think it owes much to the time-worn cliche: I march to the beat of a different drum.
Somewhat like director Tim Burton. Burton not only marches to the beat of a different drum, but, I suspect, he uses a different, very unique instrument to find his beat.
How else to explain the films and movies he directs? How else to explain the overall euphoria and elation in the tone and tenor of his works, tempered by melancholy, infused with mourning, to an exaggerated or ludicrous degree?
"Big Fish" is Burton's latest cinematic work, and like all his other works it contains euphoria, elation, melancholy, mourning. But unlike his previous works "Big Fish" offers these things in rather constrained and conservative quantities. That it does goes to provide a superficial explanation as to why this film is not quite like his more noteworthy works, "Edward Scissorhands", "Ed Wood", "The Nightmare Before Christmas", and "Sleepy Hollow".
But let me get to the film at hand for a further explanation of why this is: This is the story of Edward Bloom (Albert Finney), and his son, Will (Billy Crudup). From Billy's perspective the old man has lousy timing: He had adventures in his life, but before his son came along. And when his son did come along it took a few more years before Edward got to telling him about his amazing and wonderous adventures. By the time this took place, well, the stories had faded and paled and Billy has, in adulthood, come to the opinion his father is quite full of hot air and nothing much more.
