You wanna know what the two kids who leave the factory disfigured in
"Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" have in common?
They're the Americans.
[snickers]
[sarcastically] I wonder how Roald Dahl felt about Americans?!
[♪ Electronic Remix - Beetlejuice Opening Title ♪]
Pee-Wee: "I'm a loner."
♪
"A rebel."
♪
[TV shuts off]
Don't know if you've noticed, but Tim Burton is fascinated by the disabled and disfigured body.
He loves how weird beings can look when they've been stitched up,
scarred,
turned into blueberries.
He is captivated by what he feels to be an incongruous image of humanity within a disfigured frame.
Wait, did I just say that Burton's characters are disabled?
Sort of.
When I've talked about disabled representation on the channel before, it was about specific
characters whose disabilities were not the result of fantasy, but reality.
Obviously, that is not the case for much of Burton's work.
People don't really turn into blueberries and no one's born with scissors for hands.
So how is Burton's aesthetic linked to real life disability and disfigurement?
Imagine for a second that we live in a world where people are sometimes born with metallic appendages,
just as commonly as someone born with spina bifida.
They would be classified as disabled or disfigured.
Burton is interested in any way the body can exist outside of what is expected or considered "normal."
That's what disabilities and disfigurements are: deviations from expectation.
And they are very real facets of the human experience.
So regardless of whether or not Burton's depictions are factual or invented,
it is impossible to divorce them from our society's comprehension, expectation,
and fear of disability and disfigurement.
I will mostly be using the term 'abnormal' to describe Burton's various portrayals
of disability and disfigurement.
We can even go so far as to include things like Emily's decaying, constantly breaking body in "Corpse Bride,"
or the Halloweentown residents in "The Nightmare Before Christmas."
However, when I say 'abnormal,' I will always mean it as a neutral term.
Disfigurements aren't typical, but that doesn't mean they're bad, just different–
and there's nothing wrong with different.
Things like fatness and neurodivergence also come into play with Burton's abnormal bodies.
While I am aware of this I'm not going to get into it in detail in this video.
But yes, there is a lot of fatphobia in Burton's work, and yes,
he has very stereotypical ideas of mental health and neurodivergence.
Let's start with "Edward Scissorhands"–
it is peak Burton and chock full of his trademarks, from the production design to the score.
Pretty much the only thing missing is Christopher Lee,
BUT we get Vincent Price instead, and HE was bisexual so that definitely adds a whole lotta points.
The characters in this film don't treat Edward's disfigurement as something incomprehensibly magical.
Which is odd, given he's a humanoid thing that's not a robot–
[gasps]
he's a Janet!
[film] Janet: "Not a robot."
It's a lot to accept, but it's part of the fable structure the story is going for.
What's interesting is that the people in "Edward Scissorhands" make the direct comparison to disability.
[film] "I have my own infirmity."
There's actually a lot of language used in this film that gets brought up in disability activism.
Characters patronizingly refer to Edward's disfigurement as a "special" quality,
[film] [sweetly] "Don't be ridiculous, you're not handicapped, you're…
What do they call that?
Exceptional."
offer him unsolicited medical advice,
[film] "I have a doctor friend who I think could help you."
"I got a doctor friend of mine who might be able to help you."
"I know a doctor that might be able to help you."
and there's even a scene where a bank manager denies him a loan
[bewildered] but encourages him to get an accessible parking placard for his car.
[film] "You have a decided advantage. You can get one of those handicapped placards.
No problem. Park anywhere you like."
[astounded] Edward…doesn't have a car then.
Or ever!
Edward never gets a car in this movie!
The majority of this film makes a case for the social model of disability,
which is the one generally preferred by disability rights activists.
The social model of disability refers to the idea that disability exists, but that ultimately its society's inaccessibility
(like the lack of wheelchair ramps and negative perceptions of disabled people)
that disables people.
As opposed to the medical model that says impairments, whenever possible,
should always be "corrected" by medical treatments,
even if such an impairment doesn't cause the person pain or illness. The medical model presumes that
all disability of any kind is bad, whereas the social model suggests that it isn't.
Edward has an impairment that he would prefer to be fixed, but it doesn't seem to be his main motivation.
Though that could just be because Edward is incredibly passive and barely has a personality.
[forced cheeriness] His disfigurement is his personality!
But Edward's disfigurement is a profitable asset to him in the film.
There are even plans for him to open his own hair salon.
The conflict is the suburban neighborhood turning on him because actually, they *don't* like the way he looks,
and his disfigurement has outlived its usefulness to them.
So it's ableism and not Edward's disability that is the antagonistic force of the story.
Unfortunately, this reading of the film doesn't quite hold up given the ending.
Despite how welcoming everyone is at the beginning, by the end Edward is:
taken advantage of,
driven back to his isolated castle by an angry mob,
almost murdered,
forced to fulfill the monstrous expectation of him by killing Kim's jerk boyfriend,
and then left to a life of solitude.
Of course, the film wants the audience to understand that even though Edward has the appearance
of an 80s slasher villain that he isn't a monster.
But what does that message matter if society ultimately rejects him for having an abnormal body anyway?
That ending doesn't actually challenge anything.
Many people liken this film to "Beauty and the Beast,"
but it's much closer to Victor Hugo's, "The Hunchback of Notre Dame."
[film] "I'm an old woman now.
I would rather him remember me the way I was."
Yeaaaah, that's…
that's definitely NOT "Beauty and the Beast."
Even in the films that don't feature characters with abnormal bodies like Edward,
imagery of it shows up in most of Burton's work.
There's the Large Marge jump scare in "Pee-Wee's,"
the Maitland's attempts to get the Deetz's out of their house in "Beetlejuice,"
the aliens in "Mars Attacks!" are big eyes with visible brains,
the Hatter in "Alice in Wonderland" has big eyes,
and then there are…
big eyes in…
"Big Eyes."
The Hollows in "Miss Peregrine's" also…
eat eyes.
Okay. So Tim Burton's got a thing for protuberant eyes, which is a real thing.
["Young Frankenstein" film] [Igor scatting]
[giggles]
See?
I love your face.
Mikaela: I think that's the one.
Okay.
Burton doesn't always come up with these ideas on his own. Both the Martians in "Mars Attacks!"
and Violet's punishment in "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" are taken directly from their source material.
Isn't he absolved of ableist or disfiguremisic implications, then?
Not really.
He might not have created them, but the fact that he is consistently drawn to these sort of designs
is still indicative of his view that abnormal bodies are primarily tools for creating mise en scène.
Burton doesn't portray every physical abnormality as evil or negative, as we saw in "Edward Scissorhands."
But he doesn't have to.
He employs abnormal physicality to make the abled viewer uncomfortable,
without ever challenging the prejudices the viewer must hold about disfigurement
to be made uncomfortable by a scene like this one in the first place.
A handful of Burton's physical abnormalities ARE real or possible.
Joker's is unlikely, but feasible.
Carl the Giant's disfigurements were real as well, but that was more than likely the result of
actually hiring a disfigured actor rather than mindfulness on Burton's part.
Honestly, I'm not really willing to give him credit for Penguin's syndactyly either.
I think it's really just meant to make it look like he has flippers.
Ya know…
like a f**king penguin.
But this isn't because he's trying to say anything about people who actually have disfigurements and disabilities.
Nah, Burton's nowhere near the ballpark of wanting to represent anybody, actually.
Not even other outsiders like him.
"Do you imagine depressed teenagers needing your work the way you needed [Vincent Price's] work?"
"I don't know. I've never really thought about that.
You can't think about those things because it would be wrong. That's not the way things should happen."
Burton only has two interests regarding the abnormal body in his films,
and neither are motivated by compassion:
1, to make his set design look "weirder" and more interesting,
and 2, to act as an avatar for Burton's feelings of being an outsider.
It is textbook objectification disguised as metaphor.
Penguin has syndactyly to mirror the flippers of the animals he was raised by,
and he really looks like a penguin, don't you see how animalistic he is?
The Joker has a disfigured smile because he's a twisted, aggressively happy clown who delights in hurting people.
Edward has scissors for hands because it represents the fact that he's incomplete,
and he feels that he can't get close to anybody.
As much as "Edward Scissorhands" has going for it, it suffers for being a fable. Fables don't really teach
you how to do things, they warn you of what will happen if you do the wrong things,
or if you find yourself in the wrong situation or body.
"Edward Scissorhands" isn't a story about how we shouldn't judge people based on their appearance,
it's a warning that people with abnormal bodies or ideas or talents will ALWAYS be ejected from society,
[condescendingly] and that it's really for the best.
[unsure] Yay segregation???
It's an affecting fable for an abled audience,
who can project their own sorrows onto Edward's blank slate and go about their day.
A disabled person can't because that's THEM on screen.
You can make the argument that Burton isn't the real culprit here,
that he's just replicating the B-horror monster movies he watched as a child–
a master course in weaponizing the atypical body for emotional manipulation.
But Burton still makes the decision to reproduce that same harmful message for a new generation,
without making any kind of commentary or adjustments to it.
Abnormal bodies are only ever portrayed as sensitive, feeling human beings in his films
when HE identifies with them.
I should also point out that this is a treatment only the male characters receive.
The women with disfigurements don't serve their primary purpose of being aesthetically pleasing.
["Batman" film] The Joker: "She's a living work of art."
[tense music]
[amused, mock horror] Oh god, mild scarring!
The Red Queen is mocked for her abnormal body throughout the film by everyone,
including her sister AND her court, and that is never questioned because ya know–
[sarcastically] Body shaming is okay when they're bad!
[whispers] It's really not, it makes you a hypocrite!
Burton approaches characters as a visual artist, which means that he uses abnormal bodies
as shorthand for "weird, outsider, loner."
No matter how much his films might try to impart the idea that people are more than what they look like,
there's no getting around the fact that Burton's characters look the way they do
BECAUSE they are meant to fall in line with exactly what the audience expects them to be:
weirdos, monsters, and villains.
For Burton, disability and disfigurement exist purely as a fantastical hypothetical.
"Wouldn't it be sad but also kind of funny if this guy had scissors for hands?
Wouldn't it be gross but also funny if a little girl got really fat and turned into a blueberry?
Wouldn't it be horrifying and tragic to have an abnormal body?"
His obsession with using physical abnormality as embodiments of isolation, misery, loneliness,
creativity, individuality, and nonconformity, sends a dangerous message.
His art doesn't encourage abled people to acknowledge the humanity of disabled people
regardless of how they look–far from it.
Using the body as a metaphor actually just enforces the idea that our character, what's inside our soul,
is reflected in our physical appearance–
especially our bone structure.
There are so many people who adore Burton's work,
who are drawn to the dark imagery his films, drawings, and poetry are steeped in.
And there was a time in my life where I was definitely one of those people.
I'm not trying to stop you from enjoying the dark and twisted imagery of Burton's work.
There is a benefit to exploring that kind of subject matter in the safe environment fiction provides.
But I would urge you to think about how it must feel to be the monster in the films
of one of the most popular and successful directors of our time.
Think about whether or not the "nightmare fuel" you're gushing over could actually be a human being.
As you watch these films and see how Burton explores his pain as a *real* outsider
on the backs of disabled and disfigured bodies, see them for what they are:
people.
And if you can manage that, you'll be doing a hell of a lot better than Burton is.
Thanks for watching.
[electronic music]
♪
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