Tim Burton: gothic fantasies and misunderstood monsters (part 1)
From Burbank to Hollywood: the early years of his career
To my English speaking readers: since my native language is Spanish, I apologise in advanced for any mistakes that you can find in the English version of this post. Thanks for your support! đ
Sometimes people aren't born where they should be. Or at least not where one would expect. One might expect this story to begin in a gloomy castle in Transylvania, on a stormy night lit by flashes of lightning and the sinister howl of the wind.
But no, things donât always happen as expected, and todayâs protagonist, Tim Burton, was born in sunny Burbank (California) in August 1958, in one of those suburban areas where all the houses have white picket fences.
His parents werenât particularly remarkable. His father was responsible for maintaining the green spaces in the area, and his mother ran a shop where everything was cat-themed.
And in this context, against all odds, the poet of the macabre emerged. A creator of universes tailored to his liking, where lovers of all things gothic, those who seek refuge in the shadows, could dwell with him. Because, from the very beginning, Tim Burton has been dedicated to creating sanctuaries for those special creatures who are pursued by hordes of âfriendlyâ neighbours in any normal suburb. Like Edward. Like him.
He wasnât a child like the others (perhaps he never really was a child at all). From a very young age, he sought refuge in monster movies. He admired Ray Harryhausen and his handcrafted special effects, and he was fascinated by Roger Corman's adaptations of Edgar Allan Poeâs stories, in which he identified with the characters played by his great idol, Vincent Price. He felt no connection with his parents, so he soon went to live with his grandmother.
At school, he didnât particularly stand out. He admits he had friends, but he didnât keep them (they didnât have much in common). He didnât like reading, so he turned monster movies into his own fairy tales, the references that would accompany him for the rest of his life.
Since he didnât enjoy reading, he somehow convinced his teachers to let him present films instead of written assignments. And so, with his Super 8 camera, he began his career as a filmmaker.
His artistic talent was evident, and drawing became his favourite pastime because it allowed him to express himself without needing to socialise. He never had any interest in refining his technique, and his works had that personal quality that he would later bring to the aesthetics of his films.
At 18, Tim won a scholarship to study at Cal Arts, the California Institute of the Arts, owned by Disney as part of an initiative to train future animators. Disney employees (including animators) taught the students in the companyâs style, and at the end of each year, each student would present an original animated piece, which, if selected, allowed them to go straight into Disneyâs ranks, regardless of whether they had completed their studies. Tim Burton was selected at the end of his third year with Stalk of the Celery Monster.
In 1979, Tim Burton joined the production of The Fox and the Hound as an animator. During this period, he went through one of the worst depressions of his life. Drawing adorable animals clearly wasnât for him.
Disney wasnât at its best. The great figures of the company had gone, and the new ones hadnât yet found their voice. During this phase, they produced some of their worst films and seemed unsure of how to move forward.
During these years, Tim was promoted to conceptual artist and was assigned to the project The Black Cauldron. All his ideas were rejected for straying too far from the Disney style. It was obvious that the company wasnât the right place for young Burton.
Still, he made some allies among the companyâs executives, who saw his talent and gave him the funding to produce his first original short film: Vincent.
After a couple of months of work, he created a five-minute short that fully reflected his personality and already encapsulated the key elements of what would define his career behind the camera.
Although Disney didnât strongly support the screening of Vincent, therefore it was very limited, it gave him the confidence boost he needed to persevere within the company and try to make his mark as a director.
He went on to direct an adaptation of Hansel and Gretel for Disney Channel. The live-action film featured an exclusively Asian cast of non-professional actors and already reflected the directorâs style and his love for handmade special effects. Directing posed a new challenge for Burton, who, being an introvert who didn't interact with anyone in his work as an animator, had serious communication problems when it came to leading a team.
His next work was another personal project, Frankenweenie, an adaptation of the Frankenstein myth for which Disney allocated nearly a million dollars.
Filmed in live-action and in strict black and white, Frankenweenie tells the story of a ten-year-old boy, Victor Frankenstein, who, after losing his dog Sparky in an accident, decides to bring him back to life using his own inventions.
Frankenweenie already featured a theme so characteristic of Burtonâs later work: the misunderstood monster harassed by the masses, often in a suburban context, which would be repeated in his more personal works like Edward Scissorhands and The Nightmare Before Christmas.
The filming of Frankenweenie marked an important professional milestone, as Burton directed his first star, Shelley Duvall, who played Victorâs mother. She was so delighted with the experience that she suggested he direct an episode of Faerie Tale Theatre, the Showtime programme she presented and co-produced, overseen by Francis Ford Coppola. This led to Burton directing Aladdin and His Wonderful Lamp for the programme.
Frankenweenie was another step in defining the characteristic elements of Burtonâs films. While in Vincent, the protagonist was central, embodying the paradigms of the hero in Burtonâs mythology, in Frankenweenie, the spaces and atmosphere became particularly important.
For the first time in his work, a cemetery appears as a setting (in this case, for Sparkyâs funeral after being run over), a setting that would recur in his filmography to host key moments in films like The Nightmare Before Christmas, Sleepy Hollow, and Corpse Bride.
Frankenweenie was meant to be shown in cinemas alongside the re-release of Pinocchio, but it was rated unsuitable for children under 12, and without suggesting any changes, Disney abandoned its release.
The fact that they had so generously funded the project of a budding genius, only to then not fight for its release, marked the end of this strange collaboration that never really worked out and pushed Burton to leave his failed animation career behind to focus on directing, which he would begin shortly after (in 1985) with his first feature film, Pee-Weeâs Big Adventure.
It didnât take long for Tim Burton to establish himself as one of the most recognisable filmmakers in contemporary cinema, maintaining his distinctive auteur style, which was already hinted at in his early projects at Disney. He soon gained recognition from both audiences and critics, successfully blending his unique traits as an auteur with big productions and achieving cult status thanks to his more personal works.
Over nearly 40 years of his career, he hasnât left the directorâs chair and has produced great classics such as Beetlejuice, Edward Scissorhands, The Nightmare Before Christmas, Big Fish, Ed Wood, and Corpse Bride. He has an undeniable talent for creating worlds in which outsiders like him can dwell, and he has achieved this by staying true to an aesthetic that has a life of its own within his stories, choosing to accompany the âmonstersâ rather than hunt them. Over the next few weeks, weâll explore the key aspects of his films and what makes his cinema unique.