Only Lovers Left Alive

Jim Jarmusch is one of the greatest American artists of our time. Since he first came on to the scene he has delivered films of meticulous beauty time and time again. Away from the constraints of narrative and plot, Jarmusch allows the paint brush to roam free as he depicts isolated characters in a baron and derelict America. His style has now become defining of an entire subculture of independent cinema, his mad brilliant quirks and his penchant for the oddballs that are everywhere in life yet never given a voice, has always allowed his films a purity that cannot be replicated. From ‘Permanent Vacation’ through the flawless ‘Dead Man’ and ‘Broken Flowers’ Jarmusch has developed a language in silence and pace, his films are always empty and slow, yet the beauty lies in the considered use of detail, the meticulously chosen word and the appropriate knowing of when to use music or the right camera angle. His wit is sharp and always on point and his words, though seldom spoke, always perfectly placed with grand purpose. Jarmusch is an American maestro, a real artist, a very rare thing in the modern age, only a few remain.

‘Only Lovers Left Alive’, Jim’s latest film, is utterly mesmerising. Every frame sings and the entire films plays out like a romantic poem of years gone by. The beauty lies in the characters, Adam and Eve, intentionally named as to magnify the extent of their time on Earth, and to symbolise the purity of their love. Two vampire lovers who have been together for over a thousand years, who have witnessed the world change staggeringly in their time, and now as we meet them, they are fatigued and forlorn with an ever changing world, governed by technology and human madness. The lovers, played by Tom Hiddleston and Tilda Swinton so brilliantly are presented as two mad, incestuous, pretentious, upper-middle-class, aristocratic, hipster, artsy snobs, who have grown reclusive and distant from the world and now only understand and take solace in their love for one another. Anything outside their relationship is tainted and to be met with condemnation and disdain.

Surprisingly for a Jarmusch picture, ‘Lovers’ is very funny, utterly deadpan lines always brilliantly delivered by both Hiddleston and Swinton. They are couple who are incredibly fun to hang out with, it is what makes the film so enjoyable to watch, because the characters are so great you don’t want to leave them. The absurdity of their lives in the modern world is so enjoyable to witness the film goes by so quickly. From picking up blood bags in the hospital, to the nonchalant disposal of the body of Adam’s only human friend, there is great humour throughout, despite being a film about real melancholy and disconnection from the world. Adam, desperate to die rather than carry on living in the madness of the 21^st Century, is a tragic figure, who no matter how amusing he may be to us, is suffering and has grown tired of life.

The film at its heart is a metaphorical love affair with antiquity. A love letter to the simplicity of life as it was once led, a cautionary tale as to how mad the world has become, if only we could see it through the eyes of vampires. Everything in the film illustrates this point, Adams love of music and old guitars and recording equipment. His preciousness about his work reflects the attitude of the sanctity of the artist and his work, unwilling to share it with the world as we do now, his work means the world to him and it isn't somehow devalued if he doesn't desire to share it with everybody. Adam’s love of science and logic in its purest form before it became over complicated and misconstrued, his admiration for his heroes, all framed in his study include: William S Burroughs, Edgar Allen Poe, Iggy Pop and Billie Holiday, all artists who hark back to a time gone by, of great artistic achievements in a tangible analogue world. This is reinforced by the humorous reference to Jack White, as White himself is a connoisseur of all things antique and pre-technology, a preserver of the inane but beautiful, an admirer of all that has been created through human endeavour and not of technological means.  

There is true beauty to be found in ‘Lovers’ and is confidently one of Jarmusch’s greatest films, standing tall against ‘Dead Man’ and ‘Down by Law’. Never has a film of such poetic fragility been so humorously executed, Jarmusch himself has never produced a film funnier and more enjoyable to watch. There is real sorrow and drama to be found in the characters. For all their humour and wit, Adam and Eve are seriously unhappy in the world they live in, though their love for each other remains pure. Having lived over a thousand years these two lovers have descended into a mad love that can only be nurtured if they are apart. In order to let their love thrive Eve chooses to live in Tangiers, far away, so that they're love can grow fonder, like a drug, boiling away within them, calling for them to reach out and reunite. And when they do they are ferocious, savouring the touch by staying in bed for an eternity.

‘Lovers’ is also a very successful vampire film. In an age where the vampire genre and the greater horror genre in general have been devalued and diluted by teen-pop interpretations, Jarmusch has created a film of delicate beauty that encapsulates the eroticism and salacious qualities of the vampire, as well as the animal side of the creature; the gothic nature of a nocturnal creature destined to survive on human blood in the dark shadows of our world. Jarmusch captures the inherent swagger and coolness that vampires ought have, not since ‘The Lost Boys’ have vampires looked so cool, playing guitar, with long dark hair, brooding and sulking but as a tortured artist not as a sissy. The vampires depicted in ‘Lovers’ are real, believable and frightening. The whole film rests on the performances of Hiddleston and Swinton, which thankfully are flawless, delicate yet visceral.

Jarmusch, who in recent years is not as prominent a filmmaker as he was in the 90's, has with this film re-emerged with new life, more vital now than ever. He has always been a true American voice, with his own warped depiction of a post industrialised America, soulless and derelict, vast and spacious, beautiful yet aching. His America is distinct and entirely his own, his films throughout the 90's made him the king of independent cinema and it is still good to see that that crown remains his, without a doubt. True American cinema is under threat from the marginalised ever growing blight of the corporate, studio, Hollywood juggernaut, and it is worrying that such great filmmakers like Jarmusch are struggling so much to get their projects made. This is echoed throughout Adam's character in the film, his disdain for LA and the internet, or anything of the modern age, reflect perhaps Jarmusch has grown cynical of making art in the 21st century. However despite this, real cinema has never been in a better place, though it may be harder to create real cinematic art in the 21^st Century, films of this quality and filmmakers this brilliant will always find a way to be seen by those who truly understand. 

The Illusion of Connection

It is fatiguing to live in a culture dominated by art forms yet bereft of artistic merit. In the age of the Internet the ‘tweet’ is god, where every little thought must be documented and shared. We have emerged into a culture obsessed with sharing and connecting; yet we have never been more disconnected as human beings, interacting together on this magnificent floating rock. The obsession to share content has now clogged up the airwaves and the brainwaves entirely. It is now so easy to share an image or a tweet, a musing or a thought and instantly have it seen by millions. This culture, obsessed with presenting idealism yet enabling the complacency that maintains we will never reach these ideals. A culture that deifies anybody that has an iPhone, is good looking, and is living a life of vulgar emptiness, shallow and baron of contemplative mindfulness.

The illusion of connection is profound, we all feel because we can communicate on mass that somehow we are all together, yet we have forgotten how to speak to one another, how to write and read real English, what real emotion is, what real love is and significantly what true art is. The Internet is solely responsible for the cataclysmic shift in culture; it is its own culture now, a hyper reality that we are all plugged into, with no means of disconnecting. The detriment that this exposure has had on an entire generation is staggering and will continue to devalue the human experience and ultimately render us all vegetative vacant vessels of data. The rapid instantaneous fleeting of news, gossip, information and trends fly by every hour, where we have access to every single bit of information going on in the world twenty-four seven, the information itself is devalued as we are all desensitized to these perpetual occurrences, where by a natural crisis or a murder or the death of a significant figure, be it actor or politician, pop star or sport star, is merely seen as a hash tag trend, with a lifespan of nanoseconds. We have forgotten how to feel emotions appropriate to particular events as we are living our lives through the lens of constant media, misshapen and malformed.

This culture has had such a critical impact on art in every capacity. From the inception and creation of art from the ‘artist’ regarding the purity of intent and artistic merit, to the distribution and consumption of the product. Whereby all art forms, be it film, music, visual art, literature, photography, poetry etc. have all been devalued as they are now symbiotic to the internet culture as is everything else. You could argue there are benefits to this symbiosis as there are many upsides to the internet that allow an artist the ability to maximize all aspects of their work and ultimately reach a wider audience. However the problem is ultimately more grave than that, it is not a question of logistics, it is the fact that we collectively have forgotten what real art is and what it is to experience a true, tangible, reflective moment, wherein lies the capacity to be affected and physically moved by a work of art.

Now that all art is instant and fleeting, music is instantaneous, the entire back catalogue of ‘The Beatles’ can be downloaded in seconds, and no effort or physical engagement is required of the consumer. Films are as fleeting as are the careers of the actors themselves, whereby all Hollywood films now follow the same conveyor belt proceedings of production, marketing, junket press, viral press, award season, and then forgotten the minute it has finally been seen by the masses. A corporate affair bereft of passion or soul. Cinemas now like old abandoned church ruins, former places of worship, now dark and empty. Now you can download and stream movies instantaneously, why go to the cinema? What is the point? 

There are many positives to the Internet and Social media, it is fascinating that we are all responsible for shaping our world and its media, that the media is not dogmatically augmented by the shadowy, faceless moguls, but the language of our culture is contributed to by all of us. Now that we have ‘Twitter’, ‘Facebook’ and ‘Instagram’, yes it has created a culture unmotivated and disengaged with anything other than the glitz and the glamour of a life just slightly out of reach, but it has also given a voice back to the people who were otherwise subject to be misrepresented, misquoted and more often than not, simply victim of tabloid lies. Sure there is a lot of good to come from modern culture, yet it is the disengagement and the passivity of consumption, the lack of required usage of ones brain that startles me most. There was once a distinct separation between the general public and art, which allowed a tangible experience to occur when seeing a film, or hearing a band for the first time, or seeing a painting. There was an inherent degree of mindfulness, such which cannot be measured if we are all glued to our phones and gadgets even when we are out in the world, or at a show, desperate to take pictures to post on ‘Instagram’ rather than be present and witness the unique moment before you.

I worry for culture and for art. As we progress further into the murky waters of tomorrow, expression is under extreme threat from PC Censorship and common sense has been permanently replaced by red tape mania which ensures progression is impossible and only conservative tradition can prevail, obstinate and defiant. Intelligent thought has been liquefied by celebrity culture, Reality TV, Facebook, Twitter and the media, as we continue to cater to the thick instead of presenting information higher. We choose to exist on the lowest frequency, diluting the integrity of all sensible thought, promoting only the logical succession of the Orwellian future prophesied all too precisely.

What the future holds for Humanity I have no idea, but I do know that in order for us to thrive as a species and to lead fulfilling lives individually, human connection is paramount, we must experience real emotion, physical contact and true love. The synthetic simulation of these emotions will only further a culture of apathy and despondency, misdirected without a spiritual anchor to all our lives.

The Death of the Horror Film

The horror film is not what it used to be. Over the years what made the horror film so great has been diluted and the art form has been cinematically devalued. Horror films were at their peak in the 60's and 70's. With the genre firmly established both in Hollywood and Britain, it evolved from the camp and kitsch pictures of the ‘Universal’ and ‘Hammer’ days to explore subject matter much darker and more harrowing. The films being produced throughout the 60's were in a different league to those that came before it, not to take away from the many classic horror films of the 40's and 50's, but by the 60's Horror was no longer seen as a low form of art, cheaply made to titillate the masses with camp overtones and bad make up. No, in the 1960's Horror films had become a true art, the quality of film making in the genre was unmatched by any other and the worlds greatest filmmakers, from Hitchcock to Kubrick, were beginning to embrace the genre. Horror was in the apex of its cinematic history, but it wouldn’t last long, once again the kitsch and camp would come.

In the 1960's the Horror film was not looked at as inferior to Drama films as it is today. There was no differentiation between a film like ‘The Graduate’ or ‘Rosemary’s Baby’, they had the exact same cinematic value. It hadn’t always been the case though, throughout the 40's and 50's Horror was, like today, regarded as a lower form of art, it was exploitation cinema made for a particular type of audience who wanted to see that type of thing. The films were usually bad, cheaply produced, poorly acted and directed by two bit directors. That is broadly speaking of course, there were plenty of great horror titles throughout this period, the ‘Universal’ pictures were masterful as were the early entries from ‘Hammer’, but overall this was not the case.

All of that changed in 1960 when Alfred Hitchcock made ‘Psycho’. Suddenly every filmmaker wanted to make horror pictures, where before it had been seen as box office poison. The emergence of great directors beginning to make horror films led to some of the greatest films of all time. That is where things differ now, if you are a director now and you make a horror film, that will stay with you for your entire career. It is very hard to make a horror film in the 21^st century and then continue to make other genre films successfully. Once you have made a horror film you are known as a Horror director, James Wan and Rob Zombie have this problem, it pretty much killed M. Night Shyamalan’s career. That wasn’t the case in the 60's, there wasn’t such a grand divide between genres, and the reason for this was because the films themselves didn’t define themselves with such imagery and iconography. Modern horror films all look the same, they all have the identical grungy, dark cinematography, the ominous score, everything is dark and shadowy, the poster is identical to all the others, covered in blood splats with a tacky font.

Not in the 60s. Horror films emerged from the thriller genre as opposed to continuing the conventional gothic influences of ‘Nosferatu’ and ‘Dracula’. Films like ‘Psycho’ and ‘Rosemary’s Baby’ were thrillers, steeped in drama and suspense. These films were dealing with subject matter untouched in the studio system, mainly Satanism and the Occult, with a predilection for subversive sexual overtones. The eroticism that Horror has always evoked was still there but it was subversive and subtextual, buried underneath the atmosphere conjured by such great filmmaking. Atmosphere was everything, suspense was paramount and everything was subtextual and never explicit. Most films were carried by theme over plot, the art was to conjure the right atmosphere, not show loud jumpy scares one after the other to no effect or ultimate conclusion. The horror film was slow burning, the narrative usually followed somebodies descent into madness. Now the horror film doesn’t conjure any atmosphere and suspense is dead to modern cinema, it is just ‘bussing’ in every scene, 2D characters in a 2D plot, ultimately there is a grand revelation that is never as clever as the studio thinks it is, and everyone dies, lots of blood, lots of loud, gaudy film making, back to the schlock tactics of yesteryear.

The main factor that has contributed to Horror films regaining their place as a low art form, cheap and exploitative for mass consumption, is the fact that the star value has all but gone. Modern Horror films never have a star laden cast or crew, they are churned out by the studios desperate to make the next ‘Saw’ or 'Paranormal Activity’, eager to find a franchise rather than a truly great stand alone film that will last forever. Throughout the 60's and 70's horror films were a star-studded affair. The cast and the crew were equally matched. The films were made by great auteurs like Stanley Kubrick, Roman Polanski, Alfred Hitchcock and Brian De Palma. The films were masterfully made, every detail from the score, the production design, costume, editing, screenplays, directing and performances were all delivered on a masterful level. All of these things are absent from modern Horror films; they are not necessary to secure a film being financially successful, a film like ‘Paranormal Activity’ was made for $20,000 and went on to gross $30 million, it is interesting that in a generation more obsessed with celebrity than ever before, star quality is not needed to sell a movie the way it was back in the day.

Horror films were not only at their best within the genre during this period; the genre was producing some of the greatest films of all time. Films such as: ‘The Exorcist’, ‘The Shining’, ‘The Omen’ and ‘Carrie’ revolutionized the genre. Although today they would probably all be seen as thrillers, they set the bar so high for horror films that they have always fallen short ever since. ‘The Shining’ is probably the greatest Horror film of all time and is always regarded as one of the greatest films ever made. Directed by Stanley Kubrick, one of the greatest directors of all time, starring Jack Nicholson in one of his greatest performances of all time, it is a masterpiece. Every aspect of the film is delivered with such care and meticulous attention to detail, it defines the potential that the horror film has, and proves that the genre is not inferior to any other. The film is never explicit or pat, it builds on its tone and atmosphere until it boils over, that is where the horror lies, in that suspense and tension. All of the directors making Horror films during this period were never pigeon holed in the genre, Kubrick who had already made Science fiction, Comedy, Drama and Sexual thrillers, would go on to make war films, and never lose his credibility, remaining one the greatest until his dying day. Brian De Palma would go on to make ‘Scarface’ that would eclipse ‘Carrie’ entirely. These filmmakers were not defined by the genre, it was not - at the time - seen the way it is now, it was a true masterful genre that demanded the greatest artistry and film making talent to explore such dark and disturbing subject matter.

The 80's has everything to answer for. Cinema in the 80's shifted its primary demographic and for the first time was speaking to a new audience: the youth. Young people, predominantly teenagers, were being represented in film where before they never had. Most of the films produced in the 80's were made for and marketed towards young people, the protagonists of films were becoming younger and so were cinema audiences. This dramatic shift in trend had an enormous effect on Horror films. As the late 70's blood soaked, X rated, ‘video nasties’ bled into the new decade, they soon became what would be known as the ‘slasher’ genre. ‘Slasher’ films changed horror forever, the genre was now a young persons game, and all horror films since have been so. Great films such as: ‘Halloween’ and ‘The Evil Dead’ begat the campier slasher titles like ‘A Nightmare on Elm Street’, and ‘Friday the 13^th’ that would dominate Horror for the entire decade and define the Horror experience for the MTV generation. This would evolve again in the 90's into the ‘Scream’ franchise and teen-horror cash-ins that would lampoon the ‘slasher’ genre and continue to do so throughout the 00's into modern day, the genre continuingly meeting the demands of younger and younger audiences. It is the shift in audience that has led to the devaluation of the Horror film, the demand for great artistry is not met as it is not demanded, the audiences don’t care for great cinema, they just want cheap thrills, loud jumps, PG-13, safe filmmaking, never daring or bold; camp and kitsch, as the evolution of the genre comes full circle.

PURE LOVE

Today the band Pure Love announced that they were going on ‘indefinite hiatus’ and the news has hit me hard. Not many people had even heard of Pure Love, they were a very small band that in their brief two years as a band achieved very little. They played a handful of small tours in the UK and released one album ‘Anthems’ last year. When Frank Carter announced in 2011 that he was leaving his band Gallows to focus on his new project, a straightforward rock and roll band, the music world went crazy for this change of direction and anticipated great things for the duo. Great things did not come and before the band had even started, the music press and fans alike turned the other way and paid no attention. However away from the glare contemporary music, Pure Love were having a ball, and putting on a party wherever they went, a small circle of die hard fans emerged at every show, forever a smile on everyone’s face, the greatest show on earth that nobody came to.

2011 was the worst time of my life, after coming out of a four year relationship I was desperately lonely, in pain and suffering an all encompassing depression I had never before experienced. Before Pure Love had even played a show or even released a single note of music I was hooked. All there was, was a logo, the words Pure Love, which I clung to hoping the esoteric shape alone would bring some salvation. The band literally came into existence as my personal situation became so desperate, as if by some orchestration of fate, the band were there to get back on my feet. Months I waited for music to be released, all in vain, the band were silent and mysterious, yet a growing curiosity was following them as fans and critics alike awaited this new sound. None were to expect the sound that would come. Frank Carter, having come from the UK hardcore scene, his last release was the blacker than black ‘Grey Britain’ released in 2009, no one could expect the expediential shift in sound, tone and message. Gone were the days of anger and despair, love was on its way.

Pure Love played their first gig on Valentines Day 2012 at Bush Hall in London. The first Valentines I’d had to endure since my break up, battered, bruised, alone and hurting I dragged myself to London on the day of love, to see a band preaching love and happiness when I felt so utterly alone and hunchbacked I’d rather still be listening to ‘Black Heart Queen’. Alas, I turned up to the most romantic venue in London to witness one of the greatest rock and roll rebirths in history. It was as if I was the only one there, and the message that I so desperately needed to hear was only for me, the band appeared onstage and as soon as the first note of ‘She’ was played it washed away all feelings of anger and sadness, resentment and bitterness that had previously coursed through my every vein. Instead, almost immediately I was alleviated. I finally had something to cling to; love, positivity, music, art, hope, rock and roll! I had entered a new chapter in my life and Pure Love were the narrator documenting each and every day.

In Summer 2012 I met my girl, and once again it was Pure Love that became such a huge part of that blossoming romance. I saw the band again at Leeds Festival, one of the best festival shows I’ve ever seen, and Burning Love instantly became our song. Somehow this band that nobody gave a fuck about had become to mean everything to me. Their music had reconnected me to my former positive, passionate self, steered me away from a person I had become who had no bearing on who I truly am. Throughout 2013 I saw the band twice more, in February in Cambridge, possibly the best show I’ve ever been to, packed inside a one hundred capacity venue, the fifty kids who cared so much for a band the masses had already declared irrelevant, we sang and danced, and surfed on inflatables until our lungs gave out. Caught up in the spirit of it all, I took to the stage and shared the microphone with Mr. Carter and serenaded my girl with our song ‘Burning Love’. Who would of thought true romance could be achieved at a rock and roll show? The bands own trajectory charted my rise from despair and heartache, to happy, positive old me again, a perspective found, due to the band, the message and their songs.

When the band released their first single ‘Bury my Bones’ there was an instant wave of excitement and anticipation throughout the music press and word on the street. But in today’s age of disposable Internet fads, where bands are discarded hourly and have a life expectancy of two months, Pure Love’s buzz in the music world lasted all but days. The first tours were well attended and documented but after that the bubble burst, the album dropped and so were the band, and before the band had even started everyone had left.

But what they missed was monumental. The greatest rock and roll shows of the century and a spirit and sense of community that had too long been absent from live music. Nowadays when you go to see a band, you pay extortionate prices to see the band you love stand on stage like zombies, take your cash and give nothing back. Pure Love however brought the party to you, every night they played in the crowd, not just Frank and Jim, but the drummer too. Every single show was a riot and a party, not a single person left without a smile on their face, the divide between band and audience had been entirely abolished, no egos, all were here to have a great night. Not just another faux sentiment of living for the moment, when really you’re missing the show posting it on Instagram. A Pure Love show was a tangible rock and roll show that stayed with you for days, and you experienced every second of it.

Their album ‘Anthems’ was ignored, sold poorly, never promoted or marketed and will inevitably be archived under ‘one hit wonders’. Yet it was a great rock album, packed full of hits had they ever been given the airplay. In an age where chart positions are bought by corporate moguls, and never reflect the people’s honest opinion, how could 'Anthems' ever stand a chance? Songs like ‘Anthem’, ‘Beach of Diamonds’, ‘Burning Love’ and ‘Handsome Devils Club’ are such great rock songs, they deserve to be heard and played in venues bigger than the Portland Arms.

The news that Pure Love have called it a day saddens me deeply, mostly because nobody can understand what they meant, because nobody cared in the first place. Nobody cares about real music anymore. It’s sad because it speaks volumes for the state of music in 2014. A band like Pure Love playing authentic rock and roll and putting their blood, sweat and tears into it every night, should matter and be able to experience longevity. Yet the world would rather obsess over glitter lacquered pop garbage and dance music Armageddon than experience real music, with a real message played by real people. In the grand scheme of things Pure Love breaking up really doesn’t matter, but to me it signifies so much more, it confirms the death of rock n roll, and without that we are all doomed.

Edward

Edward Scissorhands will always be my favourite film of all time for various reasons, it is impossible to articulate the infinite number of reasons for it being so; this essay serves as an attempt to do that. Scissorhands was the first collaboration between Tim Burton and Johnny Depp, a partnership that has gone on to be extremely successful and lucrative for both, after twenty years of making films together the pair have become inseparable both on screen and off, forming a lifelong friendship and eternal brotherhood. This is where it all began. Scissorhands is undoubtedly their finest work, it is possible that Ed Wood could give it a run for its money but Scissorhands finds Depp and Burton at their purest and most honest, authentic and primal. It is a film of immense emotion and it is in its purity and simplicity that it works so effectively.

Edward Scissorhands is Tim Burton’s most personal film, it will always be remembered as his seminal work and the reason for that is that it defines the man himself. Burton is a consistently misunderstood film maker and human being, known only for his eccentricities and tendency to steer towards the world of absurdity and gothic awkwardness, misfit outsiders and introspective weirdo’s. Tim Burton is an artist first and foremost and a film maker second, it is impossible to assess his films against the likes of Scorsese or Hitchcock because his films come from a different origin. Tim Burton paints with cinema; he writes poetry with the lens and creates bounds of pages of literature with each film he releases. Film is the medium in which he paints his canvas, inspired by classic horror films, gothic literature and German expressionism, Burton has somehow created his own cinematic language that is entirely unique to him. He has often been criticised for his films lacking narrative structure, or great character development or plot, this is because he is not making films in the conventional sense, he is painting, writing poetry, truly expressing himself through film. This style of film making which has come to define Burton is most present in Edward Scissorhands, his first real passion project. After being thrown into the studio system of block buster Hollywood in directing the Batman films, Burton took the time afterwards to make a personal film for himself now that he was the most sought after Director in tinsel town.

The story of Edward Scissorhands is a simple one, and it is in its simplicity that it is so effective. Everybody can relate to the feeling of isolation and inferiority felt by Edward, a man created by an inventor, but unable to finish his creation before his death, is left with scissors for hands. Unable to touch without inflicting pain on another person elevates that sentiment of increased self loathing one feels during adolescence. A retelling of the Frankenstein story, Burton seemingly effortlessly blends his own experiences growing up in 60s Suburbia with the melodrama and tragedy of gothic horror. Scissorhands is an autobiographical film for Burton, it is the director pouring out his emotions and articulating his adolescence through this titular character, the feelings of loneliness and isolation Burton felt grown up are merely heightened by Edward’s unique circumstance. These themes of feeling at odds with your environment, that you are totally alone in your melancholic existence and that you feel like you cannot connect with anyone are universal themes, felt by all at some point or another, which is what makes Scissorhands such a powerful film.

Finding an actor however to convey such heavy emotions with the simplicity that the role required was not easy, pressured by the studio to select a more bankable star like Tom Cruise, Burton insisted on finding somebody with the right sincerity and earnest humbleness that could be used to define Edward. Enter Johnny Depp. Now one of the most famous men on the planet, but in 1990 was relatively unknown to cinema audiences. Depp had been stuck on network TV show ’21 Jump Street’ for the last four years, and having been misrepresented and marketed as something totally untrue to himself related so much to the role of Edward that he was desperate to get the part. Fortunately fate was on his side and the role was his despite all the odds. It is the friendship and bond that Depp and Burton formed that make the film so special. They are two peas in a pod, similar in every way, drawn to the same quirky outsider art, and felt incredibly isolated and alone within their own selves growing up. Edward Scissorhands was as much Johnny Depp as he was Tim Burton.

Johnny Depp’s performance in Edward Scissorhands is still the best of his entire career and completely shaped the film into what it had to become. Johnny’s love and appreciation of the silent era and silent film stars influenced the character and allowed the emotions that were felt within to be expressed through little to no words. The performance is one of minimalism, body language is everything and the soul is in the eyes. Depp is fortunate to have very expressive eyes, and the entire innocence of Edward’s character, and the articulation of how he feels is played immaculately through simple eye gestures.

The entire film is flawless; it is successful because of its sincerity and its purity. So rarely are such personal projects ever green lit by the studios, and had Burton not just made half a billion dollars on Batman nor would this. Burton proved himself to be one of the singular visionaries in young upcoming Directors, and set his place in Hollywood forever. The language and imagery of what a Tim Burton film would always be, was present in Scissorhands. Indebted to its timelessly beautiful score by Danny Elfman which again defined the template by which all future Burton/Elfman scores would be measured, twinned with a stunning ensemble cast, amazing sets and production design and all round ‘Burtonesque’ tone that would define an entire subgenre of film. Edward Scissorhands was a surprise hit of Christmas 1990 and secured Burtons place in the Hollywood elite.

Edward Scissorhands will always be my favourite film for very personal reasons, put simply it is because it affected me on such a personal level at an age when articulating your own emotions is all but impossible, you are left only with films and songs to do that for you. The character of Edward was so easy for me to emphasise with for he is all of us, that feeling is not specific to Edward, it is experienced by all on various different levels. Some people have an easier time growing up and may not notice the pain and sadness as much as others, but it is there, that part of you that doesn’t feel good enough, or wonders why nobody understands you, or simply cannot understand other people, the feeling of alienation that can be so hard to define growing up is effortlessly simple in the film. Burtons stark interpretation of domestic life paralleled by his penchant for the macabre and the melodramatic, heightening everyday emotions with fairytale hyperbole, allow one to get lost in the story but at the same time find therapy and connection within its familiarity.

If you look closely at the film every character is Edward in some way. The emotions that Edward feels is mirrored by the despondency of Kim (played by Winona Ryder) a cheerleader, who cast against type to great effect, doesn’t fit into the role she supposedly fulfils and she too feels that longing and alienation.  The same dynamic is present in both Kim’s parents played by Diane Weist and Alan Arkin, who although their feelings aren’t as apparent, it is easy to see that they are not entirely fulfilled. Peg who longs for perfection both in the home and in personal beauty clings to this idea for stability, but of course stability and happiness can never be found in the material world. Peg’s mental state and gradual destabilisation is made apparent through her ever changing haircuts; with each snip she holds her world together.

Edward Scissorhands is a masterpiece, as it can be infinitely studies and interpreted, it is multifaceted and layered, the themes and emotions of the film are mirrored and paralleled through not only the characters but the environment itself. Beautifully written and directed, its heart however lies in the ever malleable Johnny Depp, not even visible under all that makeup, such a transformative role that would intern transform his life entirely. Edward Scissorhands is testament to both; ‘less is more’ and ‘write what you know’. It is so powerful and effective because of its sincerity, we feel the emotions because they are not false or artificial, it is real feeling and real art. So it remains not just a film but a beautiful poem or song, a painting etched into ones heart.