Creative Inspirations: Tim Burton

It’s typical for a writer to say that they’ve always loved books. But I like to broaden that to say that I’ve always loved stories. Whether they came from a book, a song, a TV show, or a movie rented on a Friday night, stories inspired my worldview, my interests, and how I created my own stories, whether they were in the make-believe games I played or the ones I ultimately wrote down.

We gravitate towards storytellers who share our interests and points of view. For me, that meant being drawn to outcasts, those who didn’t fit in for one reason or another. I also liked stories with a slight edge to them, often with dark and even creepy tones.

There were plenty of those types of movies in the 80’s and 90’s. And nobody did quirky stories, creepy settings, dark humor, and misfit characters better than Tim Burton.

Having been born in the mid-1980’s, just as Burton’s film career was taking off, it put me in a prime position to grow up with a Burton movie always in the pipeline. Despite his unique style, his films spoke volumes to quiet little outcasts like me while still being a marketable success that allowed him to continue to make the movies that he wanted in the way he wanted to.

Burton isn’t really a writer, but he is a storyteller. And the stories that he has told helped to cement him as one of my favorites. Below are the reasons why Tim Burton is one of my creative inspirations.

The delicate balance of dark and light

Casual or unfamiliar fans of Burton’s would likely be quick to put his films in the category of horror director. But few of his movies could actually be considered true horror films. This is because he often inserts a near equal amount of lightness, whether it’s through comedy, sentimental themes, or misunderstood characters.

You can often find a black and white color palette in Burton’s films, whether it’s white and black checked flooring, black and white stripes, or even pairing up a platinum blonde character with a raven-haired one. He’s always reminding you, both in his imagery and in his film’s themes that dark and light are two sides of the same coin.

This doesn’t necessarily mean good versus evil. Sometimes it just means those who fit into the world and those who don’t. He finds beauty in both which is why his films are always entangling them and finding new ways to drive this point home.

Imagery is Burton’s specialty. His German impressionistic style and asymmetrical shapes require both black and white to form the images he’s trying to convey. I’ve heard him describe his concept art as “crude,” but I see them as very focused and intentional.

I personally love spooky settings, but I don’t particularly like a drab, gray landscape. Burton always finds ways to mix light colors into his most dreary sets. Whether it’s the dream sequences in Sleepy Hollow or the electric blue sky that backdrops “The Grand Finale” of Edward Scissorhands, touches of light in a dark setting, when placed correctly, make for a more interesting and stylistic image.

Adding dark to light scenes too can add a touch of exciting unease to a story. The sudden appearance of a werewolf in Big Fish or the covered bridge scene in Beetlejuice that danger can lurk around even the cheeriest corners. But they can also add excitement to an otherwise bland landscape.

Outsiders

I’ve always loved rooting for the outcasts in films. It took me a while to realize that that’s because I was one of them. It didn’t immediately click at first, but once it did, I found comfort in the fact that I shared so much in common with these fictional heroes.

Burton’s outcasts often share his interests, hobbies, and even his look. His heroes often have fewer lines than most of the other characters in the story. They internalize their thoughts and express them artistically, whether it’s in the form of drawing, hedge cutting, or photography.

They often dress in dark colors, as if trying to blend in with the world. But in certain landscapes, they stick out like a sore thumb and can only blend in when they’re in their own safe habitat.

To us viewers, they seem so cool and admirable. But when you look more closely, you can see that they’re lonely, and even tortured by their inability to relate with the rest of the world. This invokes a feeling of sympathy and true emotion for these imaginary characters who are brought to life by the feelings that they portray in their performances.

Yet, you don’t have to be an outcast to appreciate his films. Despite his unique artistic style, Burton’s movies are, more often than not, widely marketable. There are other more extroverted characters for people to root for, or they stay for the action of Batman or the humor of Pee Wee’s Big Adventure.

Balance in general is an important theme to me. I like variety and juxtaposing two polar opposites to find commonalities. It instills a sense of accepting differences in each other and being allowed to exist as ourselves.

Whether it’s Pee Wee Herman being allowed to live like a child in adulthood or Ichabod Crane fighting for modern forensics in a primitive society, all of Burton’s protagonists and placed up against the grain. Some are longing for acceptance while others are fine being placed outside the box. We can identify with one and admire the other. At the very least, it makes you feel less alone in your own particular quirks.

The animation perspective

As a kid who grows up watching cartoons, Burton’s movies translate well in their live action format thanks to Burton’s background in animation. His earlier use of models, stop motion animation, and even hand drawn animation helped to transport me into these worlds better than CGI ever could. It wasn’t about looking real. It was about creating something that you can’t see in the real world. And I tend to imagine things in cartoon form. So, it makes this transition from my eyes to my brain that much smoother.

As his career progressed, he maintained that animation perspective. I love how most of his films open with a tracking shot that goes through or follows a person or object. I love how a three second shot of a building or place can inspire so many ideas about who else has been there, what else has gone on there, or what it would be like to visit that place.

Burton is able to use a creative team to turn what I’ve heard him refer to as “crude” sketches into tangible costume and set pieces. These range from the Maitland’s “scary” faces in Beetlejuice to the shaped topiaries in Edward Scissorhands. Google his artwork or flip through a book of his drawings, and you will see how well his cartoonish images manage to be transferred into live action. To fans and fellow storytellers, this inspires you to realize that you can make anything in your head come to life if you do it right and have the right support system behind you.

Tightly compacted storytelling

It may just be a product of the era, but Burton’s films were a blueprint for how to tell concise stories without having to stretch it out into a three-hour epic or a series. He presented the stories, introduced the characters, and left you wanting more as he focused on just a few plotlines and developed each character enough within a few scenes, never overexplaining and creating the opportunity for the viewer to fill in the blanks.

As an aspiring writer, his movies created loads of fanfiction story ideas, as I’m sure they did in other social outcasts of the time who loved to write. There’s a lot of showing, not telling. And this leaves a lot of open-ended moments and themes to explore further without needing, or even wanting, a sequel to potentially ruin all of those fill in the blank elements.

There’s something to be said for a standalone story in which that is all you get. I don’t put all of my stock into a film franchise and bank on a sequel being great at the risk of ruining the original for me. If I don’t like any subsequent storylines in a film franchise, I just ignore them. But, unless Hollywood digs at more of his filmography after the Beetlejuice sequel, we’re never going to get another Ed Wood, Sleepy Hollow, or Big Fish. And that’s comforting.

Suburban settings

Many of Burton’s early work is set in small towns, particularly suburban ones. As a suburban kid myself, I could relate. Burton has spoken about his love/hate, mostly hate, relationship with the suburbs, particularly the California suburbs and their lack of changing weather patterns and the structured, unadventurous lifestyle.

Yet, instead of always branching out into more atmospheric environments, he often finds ways to work in suburban settings and amp them up into a more interesting place to live. His most famous film to come out of his early days at Disney, Frankenweenie, presents a kid-friendly look at his issues with this particular landscape.

Yet, it isn’t a whiny, woe is me commentary on how nosy neighbors and a conformist society can make for a troubled childhood to a young outcast. It doesn’t even paint suburbia as the lasting villain of the piece. Instead, it redeems it by showing how people can grow and change and be more accepting if they give the outsiders a chance.

Burton may have never fit into this particular place, but it still is his home. And through his work, he was able to mold it into a place that would have made him feel more at ease and with people who would have been more understanding, or at least open to being more understanding in the future.

Watching this take shape on screen has given me permission to build my own adventurous worlds in a suburban setting. And using such familiar scenery provides a solid framework on which to build fictious elements. Knowing what has been done and what is possible helps to expand my own imagination with limitless boundaries.

The person

Just looking at Burton, he has a mysterious air about him. In interviews, he can barely finish a sentence because his brain is moving faster than his mouth. He isn’t the most articulate because he’s an artist and an introvert. But there’s also a warm sense of humor that he emits.

Burton is not playing a part. He’s very self-aware. He knows his hair isn’t combed and that people are probably going to tease him for it. But he doesn’t care. He’s taking it to the bank, and he‘s been able to live life on his terms by sharing his unique perspective with the world all because he took a chance, others took a chance on him, and he found a way to be both unique and relatable.

Burton doesn’t ever apologize for himself. If he wants to repeat the same themes and messages and imagery, he will. Because that is how the world appears to him. And he’s sharing that perspective with us through as close of a lens as we can get to his unique brain.

Final thoughts on Tim Burton

I’ve said before that I’m always afraid to share my interests and muses with others because of society’s tendency to dismiss or even berate the things that people love, whether it’s as an offhanded remark or a power move to make people feel like their perspective is the only correct one. This blog series has helped me to put those fears aside and share my inspirations.

As a teenager, I would sit on message boards and talk about Tim Burton movies with other fans. Being able to deep dive into the tiniest details or sharing favorite lines, scores, and characters made that corner of the Internet a great place to be. It inspired me to study his films, collect books, and buy Danny Elfman’s movie scores just so I could expand my knowledge of these fictious worlds behind the safe space of my computer.

Despite his outcast themes, Burton’s movies also show that no one is alone. There will always be people out in the world that will understand you. You just have to seek them out, or accidentally run into them.

These are people who will accept you for who you are, not necessarily people who are exactly like you. And while it’s scary to put yourself out into the world and easier to retreat into your own head, it’s so much better when you can share what’s in your head with others. And in rare cases, that unique perspective that you are brave enough to put out into the world can bring you acceptance in the form of worldwide praise and success.

What are your favorite Tim Burton films and why? Leave your answers in the comments below!

Buy it!

Buy a copy of The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy by Tim Burton here, and help support local bookstores! This is an affiliate link, and I will earn a commission on any sales.

Pin it!