In the forefront of gorgeously-decorated, painting-like scenery, Margaret Keane (Amy Adams) is an exceptional painter who's struggling to financially get back on her feet after leaving her intemperate husband for San Francisco with her young daughter by her side. Luckily, she quickly receives some assistance from another painter/realtor named Walter (Christoph Waltz). Eventually, they agree on how to develop potential success out of all this beautiful artwork of hers. It just so turns out that people love the art and style of her paintings while ignoring Walter's rather dull constructions. However, you have to remember that these are the fifties, and female artists aren't overly respected. Thus, due to Walter's more charismatic presence and salesman experience, they decide to advertise him as the owner of these exquisite works of art. Sooner than later, they're lying in heaps of money, and the praise is simply prodigious. The very obvious question endlessly lingers though: is the sacrifice of artistic integrity and identity worth the amount of money/success earned as a result?
Adams' classical beauty and quintessential appearance of naïve sweetness fits her nicely into this role of a gullible, delicate woman on the brink of emotional disaster. Playing opposite her, the usually eccentric Waltz depicts ultimate villainy as a strongly egotistical man who's hungry for wealth and recognition. There is never a moment you question the mysterious man's probity as soon as you sight that frightening grin of his. The other star of the film, of course, is its famous director, Tim Burton, who helms a departure from his typical Gothic productions and unexpectedly follows through a sizable portion of Big Eyes with restraint. Frequent collaborator, Danny Elfman, also returns to compose an occasionally mellow and innocent score that's yet interjected with Reznor-like sinister notes throughout.
The fact of the matter is that there's a lot of technical wonder and imaginative vision to this work, which is wholly refreshing coming from someone (Burton) whose stylistically monotonous filmography has already been staling and dulling. However, Burton's well-known quirky touches can definitely still be identified as they grow ever more transparent. By the time the finale approaches, Big Eyes appears to be a tonal mess. While we have Amy Adams patiently, subtly glooming and sticking around with her character's pain, Waltz begins to considerably increase the volume on his performance to the point of eventual comedy. One side of the screen is earnestly dramatic and the other shockingly silly. The sober themes/issues surrounding an artist's integrity and the sheer number of barriers on their path to triumph, particularly that of a woman's, are impeded by troublingly strange scenes that awkwardly/unfittingly play out with an abundance of humor.
Big Eyes had plenty of potential in its first hour, slowly charming and enwrapping the audience with its picturesque presentation and fascinating true story, but the film essentially couldn't keep its self-indulgence in long enough because it basically loses its patience halfway through and suddenly turns its characters into truly over-the- top caricatures. The narrative's results also don't do a very fine job in explaining their sense, but revealing the actual uneven consequence that befalls the story's characters would clearly spoil the film. So, long story short: Big Eyes is insane, which is unsurprising because Burton always finds a way.
Adams' classical beauty and quintessential appearance of naïve sweetness fits her nicely into this role of a gullible, delicate woman on the brink of emotional disaster. Playing opposite her, the usually eccentric Waltz depicts ultimate villainy as a strongly egotistical man who's hungry for wealth and recognition. There is never a moment you question the mysterious man's probity as soon as you sight that frightening grin of his. The other star of the film, of course, is its famous director, Tim Burton, who helms a departure from his typical Gothic productions and unexpectedly follows through a sizable portion of Big Eyes with restraint. Frequent collaborator, Danny Elfman, also returns to compose an occasionally mellow and innocent score that's yet interjected with Reznor-like sinister notes throughout.
The fact of the matter is that there's a lot of technical wonder and imaginative vision to this work, which is wholly refreshing coming from someone (Burton) whose stylistically monotonous filmography has already been staling and dulling. However, Burton's well-known quirky touches can definitely still be identified as they grow ever more transparent. By the time the finale approaches, Big Eyes appears to be a tonal mess. While we have Amy Adams patiently, subtly glooming and sticking around with her character's pain, Waltz begins to considerably increase the volume on his performance to the point of eventual comedy. One side of the screen is earnestly dramatic and the other shockingly silly. The sober themes/issues surrounding an artist's integrity and the sheer number of barriers on their path to triumph, particularly that of a woman's, are impeded by troublingly strange scenes that awkwardly/unfittingly play out with an abundance of humor.
Big Eyes had plenty of potential in its first hour, slowly charming and enwrapping the audience with its picturesque presentation and fascinating true story, but the film essentially couldn't keep its self-indulgence in long enough because it basically loses its patience halfway through and suddenly turns its characters into truly over-the- top caricatures. The narrative's results also don't do a very fine job in explaining their sense, but revealing the actual uneven consequence that befalls the story's characters would clearly spoil the film. So, long story short: Big Eyes is insane, which is unsurprising because Burton always finds a way.