Big Fish
As usual, Tim Burton is much more comfortable with the fantastical elements of this tall tale movie than he is with the human elements. When Albert Finney is telling his son wild stories of his youth (played there by a supremely confident Ewan McGregor), the movie frequently soars. But it often thuds in the contemporary scenes, especially when the wooden Billy Crudup, as Finney’s son, clomps across the screen. (To be fair, Crudup is given little to play.)
Still, it kept my interest throughout its solid 2-hour running time, and there were Burton-esque flashes of brilliance throughout. One of my favorites involved a huge field of daffodils; but there was also a very cool giant, a witch with an all-seeing eye, and lots more.
Burton’s worst sin here was his inability to just let the images speak for themselves. There’s some really unfortunate voice-over that offers ham-handed explanation of what we’ve just seen. I like to think that that was added by the studio later, since Burton seems like the kind of filmmaker who doesn’t want to offer easy answers.
Recommended.