Earlier today, Jeff and I went to see Big Fish at Shirlington. This magical, enchanting story of a young man trying to come to terms with his relationship with his estranged, dying father, and to understand the truth of his father's life, seemingly hidden behind--or within--a series of tall tales, has entered my personal list of the best movies of all time. It certainly had the strongest emotional impact upon me of any movie I can recall in quite some time, magnified, perhaps, by its coming so close upon the heels of my own father's death, to the extent that several times I was worried that audible, choking sobs were going to join the flood of tears streaming down my cheeks; I managed to avoid making too much noise, though I was visibly trembling and clutching Jeff's hand for support. Even as the final credits finished, I was still so emotionally overcome that I almost was unable to leave the theater, and was still continuing to break into tears as we made our way to dinner just up the street.
[Apropos of nothing, this is my 400th entry.]
We saw it last weekend -- it was good, wasn't it? Are you a big Burton fan? What did you think with regard to it's innate Burton-ness?
I was saying to Jeff at dinner, in fact, that I thought it was a nice return for Burton to the sort of movie he does best, after his unfortunate departure with Planet of the Apes. It was very evocative, for me, of his best earlier films--my favorite being Edward Scissorhands, though for sheer silly delight I'd include Beetlejuice and even Pee-wee's Big Adventure--while surpassing them in emotional depth, sentiment and exuberance.
Based on these, along with his wonderful treatment of Roald Dahl's James and the Giant Peach, I'm certainly looking forward to seeing his version of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, expected next year. I'm a very big Johnny Depp fan, and think that he's the perfect choice to play Willy Wonka.