I want to like Tim Burton. I do. He did Beetlejuice and Edward Scissorhands! He has a place in the history of the Batman movies, and, AND he did PeeWee's Big Adventure. He is partnered with (married? I don't keep up on these things) to one of the coolest, quirkiest ladies around, Helena Bonham Carter, who makes wearing mismatched clunky shoes and a nightgown look good and is a terrific actress to boot. According to imdb.com, he was a recluse as a child who drew cartoons and loved Vincent Price. So, I do want to like Tim Burton. But I don't. I can't. You see, he continues to ruin my childhood by massacring beloved tales. Did you see Alice in Wonderland? Terrible doesn't begin to describe it, and it should have been great. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, another bust. Johnny Depp, nor dear Helena, could save either of these films. Sleepy Hollow, Planet of the Apes, and Sweeney Todd? Ugh, ugh ugh, and ugh-ier. Okay, these may not all be beloved tales from my childhood, but I'm still mad at Tim Burton. Mad at him for doing so little with such great material. Mad that, at present, he is signed up to ruin what sounds like (as Tim Burton movies always promise, and what will surely be marketed as a visual feast) an amazing story told from the perspective of Maleficent, the evil queen in Sleeping Beauty; and the book-to-movie planned for the incredible Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. I'll probably still give him another chance. If only to see Helena and Johnny.
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