It's hard to say why Big Fish is so entertaining. It seems more like an amalgam of odd character studies than one coherent film. It's the fairy tales of Mother Goose mixed into one clever batch without the grandmotherly storyteller to connect all the different fables. But even with continuity problems, Big Fish gets by purely on ridiculous charm.
Based on a novel by Daniel Wallace, Big Fish begins with the last days of crusty old patriarch Edward Bloom (Albert Finney). Bloom lives in a fairy-tale version of the American south with his wife (Jessica Lange) and son, Will (Billy Crudup). Will resents his father because he has never known anything about the arrogant elder Bloom besides what Edward has told in his outlandish tales of his own childhood.
The movie jumps into Bloom's fantastic tales (or could they be his actual memories?) and never looks back. Finney is replaced by Ewan McGregor, who plays the young Edward with endearing gumption and charm. As a boy, Edward foresees his death with the aid of a witch. Free to enjoy his life without worrying about his fate, Edward meets and befriends a 10-foot-giant and travels to the town of Spectre. From this odd assortment of misfits and miscreants, Edward jumps ship and takes up with circus folk, led by the tenacious and evil ring-leader Danny DeVito. Edward then glimpses the beautiful Sandra (Alison Lohman) in the stands of the circus for a moment that, quite literally, stops time altogether. Edward spends the rest of the film trying to locate Sandra, finding many more adventures, including one that involves a giant catfish.
McGregor is one of the most talented leading actors on the market today (never mind those awful Star Wars movies he keeps starring in). Same goes for Lohman, his erstwhile costar. Both are sumptuously delightful; they are charming, fearless romantics, enhanced by a story as wonderfully quirky as their own devotion to each other. The only thing that hurts McGregor and Lohman are Finney and Lange. Not that Finney and Lange are bad; both are quite good. But, exactly how did two such delightful young lovers turn into a blustery arrogant man and his hardly-seen wife?
Tim Burton attacks Big Fish with an antic energy that makes the film just a cut above other coming-of-age, father-son reconciliation movies. His quirky brand of dark humor and sweet acceptance of the fanciful and odd are as endearing here as they were in his earlier fairy tales Nightmare Before Christmas (which he produced) and Edward Scissorhands.
Big Fish is not a normal film, and normal people can go see other, more mainstream pictures this holiday season. For the wacky, weird, and wonderful, there will always be Burton and his fanciful – if slightly disjointed – forays into tales of large catfish and sideshow attractions.
John Visclosky. John Visclosky is, suffice it to say, "hardly the sharpest intellectual tool in the shed," which is why he has stupidly chosen to here address himself in the third person. He's a mellow sort of guy who enjoys movies and sharing his feelings and innermost … More »
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