Tonight, I found myself channel surfing after a dramatic episode of My Kitchen Rules (the hype and interesting thoughts I have about Australian reality television shall be saved for another post) and ended on a channel featuring the 1990 film Edward Scissorhands. It was a childhood favourite of mine well before I knew that I would begin a love affair with film, and rewatching it now has made me appreciate it all the more. The finesse and style of the mies-en-scene – the set design and costume design astound me, along with the cinematography. All three elements are pure artistry and it’s amazing to look at even a single frame or scene and pick apart the cinematography, the distinctive colour palettes and the ‘Pleasantville’ style set. Tim Burton truly can do no wrong.
There is a certain quality of perfection to the setting. Set in the 60s, everything is pastel, prim and proper. The houses are all cheerful looking, with pristine gardens, perfectly symmetrical to a fault. This perfection makes everything seem so stylised and artificial – which, in fact, is perfect to house the then very artificial Stepford wives and nosey neighbours that live within the suburb. Being a fan of symmetry myself – though never having achieved this level of precision, not for lack of trying – it’s extremely pleasing to the eye to look at and reminds me of Wes Anderson’s film style as well.
The costumes are similarly bright, cheerful colours; less muted than the houses, though ironically often their costume palettes reflect the colour house from whence they came. These women at first sport typical sixties hairstyles – all very similar to one another. Though, when Edward arrives and demonstrates his talent with his hands / scissors, their hairstyles become very different. It is interesting to see throughout the progression from Edward as a curiosity, to a wonder, to a menace, these women in the neighbourhood all keep their quirky hairstyles, even as they essentially drive Edward out of town, veritable torches and pitchforks and all. It makes their hatred of him seem all the more like betrayal – they loved him when he was safe and benefitted them in fitting into the crowd, but as soon as he suddenly ‘might’ be dangerous, they abandon him. chasing him away with their perfectly coiffed side styles and bobs.
I’m not sure I even possess the vocabulary or mental capacity to properly articulate the perfection of this film visually. The (#)aesthetic is amazing, and sets a perfect example, and standard, for the attention to detail filmmakers need to possess to create a memorable film. Perhaps a closer reading of the ice sculpture scene with Kim and Edward may be as close as I get to doing the film justice in words.
The scene begins (or as I’ve defined the scene to begin) with Kim leaning down to grab another bell for the Christmas tree. The shot is perfectly centred, and the colour palette is distinct – Kim wears a snow white dress, while her mother stands to the left third of the frame in the starkly contrasted red dress. The scene feels warm, with the yellow tinged lighting emanating from the tree. In the next shot, the “offscreen space” is activated – Kim looks almost into the camera, at something the audience cannot yet see. The red tinged light reflects on the back of her hair just slightly, signifying that she has exited from one world – her suburban, perfect home – and is about to perhaps enter another world entirely. It tracks her movement out the door as the frame begins to fill with what appears to be snow – the new ‘other’ world has been entered. It then finally reveals to the audience what she has noticed – Edward creating an ice sculpture of Kim’s likeness. We see a shot from above, looking down upon Edward in his element and Kim then below him. The sculpture takes up about the bottom third of the screen. Then – in my perhaps favourite shot of any movie ever – Kim begins to twirl and the frame follows her, winding around as the snow continues to fall, coating everything in the same innocent white that she wears. We see the corner of the house, the old world, as she begins to twirl towards Edward we catch a glimpse behind her of one of his topiaries, visually not too dissimilar to the position in which Kim is posed in her dance. The bright green breaks up the white against the dark blue-black sky nicely. Finally, Edward appears in the frame, still sculpting. He is seen from below, as is Kim – both are seen as in power through this angle though moreso Edward, interesting as he has been the ‘victim’ and relatively powerless throughout the entire film. The only times we repeatedly see Edward from this kind of angle is when he is creating something – suggesting that perhaps when he is creating, he is in control, his deformity is making something beautiful that people appreciate rather than harming and destroying, and thus he becomes ‘normal’, appreciated. The rotation continues, the snow intertwined with Kim’s hair and on her clothes now. She is bathed in white as she dances serenely through the spray. Perhaps the other powerful shot in this scene is when Kim reaches out her hand to grasp at the snowflakes. It plays on the (obviously) important motif of hands, of touching. Kim is able to grasp at Edward’s very soul, at what drives him (his creativity). She has been hesitant to freely interact with him up until this point, thus it solidifies her entire acceptance of him and the realisation that she is in wonder of his very being. Beyond the meaning, this shot is particularly beautiful – the darkened, vague background, layered with the falling ice, and Kim’s pale, small hand breaking up the black and white as she reaches out.
If you haven’t seen or closely looked at this film yet, I’d definitely suggest it. My words bring it no justice by any means. Definitely one for anyone who like me, finds themselves fascinated by the visual.
