Reuniting with Ed Wood screenwriters Scott Alexander and Larry
Karaszewsk, Burton paints a vividly complex picture of gender bias and
repressed creativity, with a whole lot of betrayal thrown in for good measure.
After leaving her first husband, no small act back in those days, Margaret met
Walter Keane; a painter who resembles a street mime when we first see him. It's
the perfect look for a guy who always seems to be performing, selling some
aspect of his personality. He notices her talent for painting right away; the
two become a pair, and soon the Keane empire is born as her paintings of sad,
big-eyed children become a global sensation. There's just one big problem:
Margaret didn't get any credit for her work for over a decade.
How does something like that happen? It was an era of creatively-stifled
housewives and male dominance, that's how. Plenty of brilliant women were held
back by a system that didn't value their input on anything except cooking and
child-rearing, and Margaret bought into it while Walter exploited it. He
convinced her nobody would buy her work unless his name was on it. He may have
been right, too, but that doesn't make him any less of a creep. While he lives
the high life, making famous friends and meeting powerful dignitaries, she's
literally locked away churning out picture after picture while her daughter
anguishes. Burton, along with another reliably strong performance by Adams, let
us in on the quiet sadness of Margaret's plight. She's ashamed and fearful
of the lie she helped Walter construct; to admit the truth would be to admit a
fraud. But she's also fiercely protective of her work and has a deep emotional
connection to it. As Walter begins the mass production of the art, putting them
in stores and on household goods everywhere, it's like something deep within
Margaret's soul dies.
But what the Keanes are known for nowadays is the bizarre turn their
marriage would ultimately take. They would go to court to decide who the true
artist was and Walter turned it into a complete circus. Waltz taps into
Walter's pathetic, increasingly desperate core. Where Margaret believes art can
touch people's lives, Walter sees it as just another get-rich-quick scheme
appealing to those looking for the latest fad. It's easy to see why
Burton would take to this story as it also works as a spot-on metaphor for the
kinds of passionless films he's churned out in the past. Visually, this is
probably the least obvious Burton movie he's ever done. While the color palette
and somewhat kitschy tone give it away eventually, Big Eyes is a true
and very welcome departure.
Rating: 4 out of 5
