Revisiting Edward Scissorhands: Tim Burton’s 1990 fairytale goth drama celebrates one’s uniqueness

Edward Scissorhands, Tim Burton’s 1990 cult classic is admittedly the filmmaker’s most personal and favourite piece of work. It was a story of an endearing humanoid who tries to make himself feel at home among humans. Johnny Depp convincingly transformed himself into the naive, shy robot left half-finished by his aged inventor. This was also the first of many Burton and Johnny Depp collaborations that were to follow, from Ed Wood (1994), Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (2005) to Sweeney Todd (2007) and Alice in Wonderland (2010).

Heavily inspired by Mary Shelley’s novel Frankenstein, Edward Scissorhands’ had its titular “monster” living inside a gothic-inspired castle. But ironically enough, the darkness of the castle is never depicted as foreboding. Burton visually demarcates the two worlds — one occupied by its protagonist, and the other where humans live. The suburbia is depicted as a sunny utopia with vividly colourful houses, candy-coloured cars and manicured gardens — it is how Edward perceives the world to be. Having lived all his life in isolation inside a dilapidated, sunless castle, the suburbia itself becomes a representation of life and vitality.

Despite belonging to the fairytale genre, the film has all the trademarks of a Tim Burton movie — his signature visual aesthetic influenced by German Expressionism, in which he used backdrops and landscapes with high colour contrasts, a misunderstood protagonist inspired by the filmmaker’s own teenage years and a fantastical world. Burton revealed in Burton on Burton that the idea of a sad-eyed young man with scissors for hands germinated in his mind when he was a teenager. “It came subconsciously and was linked to a character who wants to touch but can't, who was both creative and destructive — those sorts of contradictions can create a kind of ambivalence,” he was quoted as saying .

Edward is a man-child. He is William Blake’s definition of innocence. But once he enters the human domain, he is expected to conform to the human codes of conduct. With pale skin, messy hair and a black leather costume, he visually stands out as an anomaly. Thus, the first change that Edward is expected to undergo is a change in appearance. Peg (Dianne Wiest), who assumes the role of Edward’s surrogate mother, offers her husband’s clothes for Edward to wear. A representative of the cosmetic company Avon, Peg even tries to use her makeup skills to make Edward appear more “normal.” Burton seeks to subvert the idea of normalcy by turning this orderliness of suburban life by exposing its sinister underbelly, which is hell-bent on obliterating Edward’s differences and bracketing him under the category they want him to fall under. So for Joyce (Kathy Baker), Edward is an alternative to the dishwasher repairman she hires to make sexual advances on and Esmerelda (O-Lan Jones) considers him to be devil reincarnated.

Edward’s refusal to take money from neighbours in exchange for his topiary services or his run-ins with the law enforcement highlights his inability to conform to the suburban social etiquette. He is a bonafide outsider. It is Burton’s way of posing a commentary on the exclusionary tendencies of the suburban community, and society at large. And there is perhaps no way the differences can be bridged, because, unlike Edward, those around him refuse to change. Which is why in the end, Edward is driven out of the suburb, and Kim remains in her domain, unable to cross over to Edward’s world of no rules.

Edward Scissorhands did not make much noise at the theatres when it released. Over the years, critics have recognised how the film rejigged classic monster movies, by characterising the protagonist, not as a danger, but just as an outcast. It was an unabashed bastion of celebrating differences and one’s uniqueness. It doesn’t have a happy ending, like in fairytales, but a silent plea to extend a helping hand for people who perhaps feel they do not belong.