Wonka (2023)
Director: Paul King
Screenwriters: Simon Farnaby, Paul King
Starring: Timothee Chalamet, Calah Lane, Keegan-Michael Key, Paterson Joseph, Olivia Colman, Matt Lucas, Matthew Baynton, Tom Davis, Hugh Grant

Willy Wonka is an enigma. In Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (1971), the original adaptation of Roald Dahl’s 1964 novel “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory,” we don’t learn much about him, other than his desire to find an heir to his candy empire, as well as the cruel delight he takes in teaching naughty children a lesson. Wonka is charming and a little unhinged, paranoid from all of the years he has spent locked away in his factory, making sure no one gets their hands on the secret to his out-of-this-world sweets. With a devilish smile and a playful yet devious twinkle in his eye, actor Gene Wilder infuses Wonka with dimension, but we never dig too deep. He’s a nut that we never quite crack, and he works as a character because of that. There’s a reason why the original novel is called “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” after all – at the end of the day, it’s Charlie’s journey. Wilder’s performance hints at the layers inside of Wonka that we don’t need to unpeel, but nevertheless know are there. Wonka, the spiritual prequel to the 1971 musical classic, helmed by Paddington director Paul King, does unpeel those layers, but what’s found underneath is a deeply disappointing origin story that lacks the magic and edge that the original (and even Tim Burton’s 2005 remake) has in spades. Touted as a fun-for-the-whole family Christmas classic in the making, Wonka simply doesn’t have enough sparkle to ever hope to achieve that distinction.

Despite its tagline, which insists we will find out how “Willy became Wonka,” Timothée Chalamet’s version of the famous candy maker and magician doesn’t actually become anything. He just kind of already is.

The film begins with Willy, bright-eyed and bursting with optimism, atop a ship mast, where he begins his “I Want” song, “Hatful of Dreams”. Willy arrives in an unnamed city, fresh off the boat, ready to share his chocolate with the world, as his mother (Sally Hawkins) always hoped he would. Willy is earnest and determined, living on nothing but a dream. But the Galeries Gourmet is not what Willy initially imagined it would be. Instead of spreading his creations, he faces opposition and sabotage from three greedy chocolate makers, including Arthur Slugworth (Paterson Joseph), who will soon become his arch-nemesis. Willy then gets tricked into indentured servitude because he cannot read and fails to read the small print on his contract with Mrs. Scrubitt, played by Olivia Colman doing her best over the top Madame Thénardier impression. Aided by Noodle (Calah Lane), a fellow indentured servant and orphan who becomes Willy’s assistant, as well as the rest of the workers, Wonka bids to outsmart the trio and earn the freedom of himself and his friends.

Timothée Chalamet might be the only saving grace in the film, contrary to early assumptions that he may have been miscast. At times he’s charming, funny and endearing, but his performance is constantly in flux and dependent on the material and direction he’s given. When his jokes don’t land, his performance falls flat, even though he is clearly committed to the bit. Thankfully, he doesn’t try to do an impression of Gene Wilder, but he also doesn’t make the character enough of his own to really stand out. This isn’t his fault; he isn’t given much to work with.

All of the obstacles Willy encounters are external. Whether it’s Mrs. Scrubitt’s dishonest business practices, the antics of the greedy chocolatiers, or Hugh Grant’s Oompa-Loompa hijinks, the plot is always happening to Willy. He is almost entirely a reactionary character, and this is a problem in a movie that is supposed to be an origin story, the story of how he became who he is. It would have been nice if he actively participated in the narrative…

Willy’s desire to share his inventions with the world just as his mother hoped is sweet and admirable, but it simply isn’t enough to drive what we see. The writers, King and Paddington 2 co-writer Simon Farnaby (who also appears in Wonka as Basil), were backed into a corner considering Willy Wonka is a recluse by the time we meet him in the original movie. Telling that story would certainly be more interesting, but not very uplifting, so the filmmakers sidestep it entirely. As a result, there doesn’t seem to be any connection between Chalamet’s Wonka and Wilder’s.

Demystifying a character that works the best when we don’t know everything about him is a non-starter (as proven in Star Wars spin-off Solo), but the filmmakers didn’t give much thought to the supporting characters either. Lane and Chalamet work well together, and their friendship is a bright spot in the movie, but most of the supporting characters are so thinly drawn they barely register as real people. As for Hugh Grant’s Lofty, an Oompa Loompa who has been stealing Willy’s candy because he was excommunicated from Oompa Land until he can get back all of the chocolate that Willy stole, he’s surprisingly in very little of the film. The motion capture is jarring and unconvincing, but at least Grant’s contempt for the role, which he has expressed in several recent interviews, doesn’t show on screen.

Wonka, like the original film adaptation, is a musical, but not a very good one. The songs, written by Neil Hannon, King, Farnaby, and Joby Talbot, are unremarkable and lack passion, which is a shame considering Hannon’s exceptional work with The Divine Comedy. The songs in Wonka, especially Willy’s “Hatful of Dreams,” pale in comparison to those written by Howard Ashman, the songwriting genius behind the iconic tunes of The Little Mermaid (1989) and Beauty and the Beast (1991). By comparison, “Hatful of Dreams” lacks interiority or reflection. Perhaps the biggest faux pas in this regard is how Willy’s desire to sell chocolates in the hopes of reconnecting with the spirit of his late mother is barely mentioned. Songs in musicals should, in theory, take place when characters are so full of emotion that words no longer feel enough. And then, they must dance when singing doesn’t feel enough. But nothing drives the songs in this movie and they don’t feel needed. They are boring and directionless. Chalamet’s voice is fine, if a little weak and thin in places, but it’s worth noting that his best performance is when he sings “Pure Imagination”, a song not originally written for this film.

Wonka also strips away any of the melancholy or dark comedy found both in the 1971 movie and Roald Dahl’s overall work. The 1971 film feels a lot like “Alice in Wonderland” in that it is a dreamlike and slightly menacing descent into a magical world, but Wonka smooths all those edges out. As a result, the movie is sickly sweet and above all, nice. Which is ironic, because while the filmmakers were busy adding uplifting lyrics to “Pure Imagination” and simplifying the orchestrations, themes, and social commentaries of the 1971 film, they also made time to make several offensive and outdated fat jokes, aimed at Keegan Michael Key’s Chief of Police, who is dressed in a ridiculous fat suit and gets fatter and fatter the more he indulges in the sweets the greedy chocolate makers use to bribe him with. Using fatness as a shorthand for gluttony and greed, and having an actor who is not fat perform fatness, is hurtful and mean-spirited. It’s hard to believe such an antiquated trope is included in a film made in 2023 – especially one made about the wonderful taste of sweet treats – and it sours the viewing experience. For all of the niceness this movie tries desperately to exude, it makes sure to keep one of the only things from the original film that actually needed updating.

If Wonka is trying to say something, it’s hard to know what that something is. The film plays with themes of oppression, poverty, and greed, but doesn’t do much with them. It would be a losing battle to assume that Western filmmaking would trust its young audience enough to sprinkle in some adult themes, but it is equally weird to mention them in passing and not engage with them. Believing in your dreams and sharing those dreams with others should feel like magic, but the film doesn’t allow us to know these characters enough to genuinely care about them or their dreams.

The sets also leave something to be desired. When Wonka first unveils his factory in the original film, it’s a technicolor dream, calling to mind the reveal of the land of Oz in 1939’s The Wizard of Oz. It is bright and colorful and a little surreal. Wonka feels like a step down in comparison, and the filmmakers’ decision to set a good chunk of the film in the Galeries Gourtmet makes the world of Wonka feel like it’s just floating in space surrounded by nothing. It is small and claustrophobic.

Prequels bait us with the promise that we will get to see some of our most beloved characters become the people we love and remember from our childhoods. In Wonka, Willy may be younger and brighter and less mad than he will soon become, but if you are counting on the film to show you how that happens, you will be very disappointed. Instead, Wonka is a barely passable movie musical that is so sugary it ends up choking on its own sweetness.

Score: 12/24

Recommended for you: ‘Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory’ (1971) Earned a Spot in Joseph Wade’s 10 Best Films of All Time

The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993)
Director: Henry Selick
Screenwriter: Caroline Thompson
Starring: Danny Elfman, Chris Sarandon, Catherine O’Hara, William Hickey, Glenn Shadix, Paul Reubens, Ken Page, Edward Ivory

If a single word can be used to describe “Tim Burton’s” The Nightmare Before Christmas, it would be “alternative”. Released two years before Pixar’s Toy Story, it was Disney’s first feature-length animated film to not be produced in the traditional animation style, though Disney initially had the film released under their sister company Touchstone Pictures as they thought the film to be too frightening for young children. In the past three decades, The Nightmare Before Christmas has become the alternative watch at Christmas for those of a spookier disposition, whilst at Halloween it has been the perfect choice for those who can’t stomach hardcore horrors. Lead character Jack Skellington has become the unofficial mascot of alternative goth/emo kids, with Jack’s spooky face peering out of all manner of black clothes, rucksacks, mugs, etc. – how convenient of Disney to end Nightmare‘s banishment once they realised how much money they could make from it through merchandise.

The Nightmare Before Christmas started as a poem by Tim Burton (inspired by a department store’s hasty changing of the Halloween decorations to Christmas ones), which he pitched to Disney whilst he was working for them as an animator in the 1980s. It was quickly rejected by them, though they soon changed their tune after he left and directed the successful blockbuster Batman (1989). After the adaptation of the original poem by Michael McDowell, Caroline Thompson fleshed out the bare bones story into something of an almost mythological quality.

The brief prologue informs us that we are going to learn where holidays come from, before we are taken through a door with a pumpkin on it. Jack Skellington is the king of the pumpkin patch and is the figurehead of Halloweentown, the place responsible for carrying out Halloween celebrations in the human world. After another massively successful Halloween, Jack is showered with praise but he is left feeling empty. Achieving everything he can through his frightening prowess, he is left wishing to do more as he takes a solemn walk through the woods. After wandering all night, he comes across the other holiday doors, and after one catches his eye he tumbles headfirst into the bright and snowy world of Christmastown.

Completely enamoured with all of the sights and sounds of Christmas, he can’t help but to desperately try and understand more about the Christmas Holiday. However, Jack’s natural spookiness means he struggles to grasp the true nature of Christmas; in this quest to understand this new fantasy, Jack decides that Halloweentown should take over the Christmas celebrations this year, turning the season into a wholly horrifying and macabre affair.

It is still greatly debated whether The Nightmare Before Christmas is truly Tim Burton’s. He is credited as producer and the author of the original idea, but it was very much Henry Selick in the director’s chair and Caroline Thompson behind the typewriter. He was not a constant presence in the animation house, only popping into the San Francisco studios a few times a year. His original poem only outlined three characters in the film (Jack, Zero and Santa Claus), whilst it was McDowell’s and Thompson’s writing, alongside the creativity of the animators, that produced the bulk of the monsters and ghouls that inhabit Halloweentown. Burton’s influence and supervision is, however, evident within the gothic artistic style directly inspired by his original sketches, which is comparable to his other animated works such as Corpse Bride and Frankenweenie. He also very much had the final word when it came to the script – after he was told the original intended ending, he hated it so much he had to leave the room to kick a hole in the wall.

The most important influence Tim Burton had on The Nightmare Before Christmas was leaving Danny Elfman in charge of its music. Writing most of the principle songs before the script was finalised using the brief story points of Burton’s poem, Elfman stacked 10 distinct songs into the 76-minute runtime, transforming the movie into a veritable opera. Through Elfman’s musical prowess and emotional intelligence, a great deal of heart was put into the songwriting process, with Elfman confessing that he strongly empathised with Jack’s character. Being a member of the band Oingo Boingo, Elfman achieved massive success but was beginning to feel fatigued and was feeling the temptation of a change in work. Using this self-reflection and his own vocal talent (after asking Burton for Jack’s role), Elfman’s musical direction transformed The Nightmare Before Christmas from something akin to a Halloween TV Special into high art.

The exquisite quality of the music accentuates the other highlights of the production, and as the film behaves like an opera, most of the crucial plot points and characterisation are contained within it. Fan favourites “This is Halloween” and “What’s This” draw attention to the creativity of the art design of the different holiday locations: Christmastown is straight out of Dr Seuss whilst Halloweentown is an homage to the greats of German Expressionism, filled with the most delightfully gruesome inhabitants.

The operatic style of the storytelling is what makes Nightmare a modern fairy tale. The story is extremely economical with initially little motivation given for the characters’ moods and actions: Jack wants more than just frightening people because he says so in “Jack’s Lament”; Sally loves Jack because she sings that she does so in “Sally’s Song”. In this simplicity, they become the mythical creatures straight out of ‘tales as old as time’. Given the charm instilled by the vocalisation achieved by the cast, particularly by Catherine O’Hara as Shock and Sally, it is no wonder that after 30 years these characters are still adored. A great demonstration of the masterful orchestration of the talents of voice and animation is “Oogie Boogie’s Song”, in which Ken Page has the time of his life bringing to life one of Disney’s coolest villains with his casino-style lair being one of the most memorable in the history of stop motion animation.

In the 30 years since its release, stop motion animation has come along in leaps and bounds. It may lack the smoothness of more recent Laika releases, but such imperfections only add to a film with bags of charm. With this passage of time, it becomes more clearly evident that The Nightmare Before Christmas was a flash of lightning captured in a bottle. With the support of Tim Burton, Selick’s burgeoning aspirations, Elfman’s earnestness, and a cast of Burton favourites, The Nightmare Before Christmas remains the most perfect little Halloween treat for all to see. Jack Skellington is not just the King of the Pumpkin Patch, after 30 years he is the King of the Goths.

Score: 23/24

Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (2007)
Director: Tim Burton
Screenwriter: John Logan
Starring: Johnny Depp, Helena Bonham Carter, Alan Rickman, Timothy Spall, Sacha Baron Cohen, Jamie Campbell Bower, Laura Michelle Kelly, Jayne Wisener, Ed Sanders

Gruesome, disturbing, and tragic, Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street still sends shivers down our spines 15 years later. Stephen Sondheim’s genius bleeds through his complex, angular composition to give the story both edge and depth. Tim Burton’s distinctive style builds a world of darkness and expresses the characters’ warped interiority. The film hypnotizes you and keeps you locked in until the shocking, grim finale.

We are first introduced to the titular murderous barber (Johnny Depp) in 1846 on a ship pulling into foggy London. Fifteen years earlier, then by the name of Benjamin Barker, he was convicted of a crime he didn’t commit and sent to Australia while his wife, Lucy (Laura Michelle Kelly), was assaulted by Judge Turpin (Alan Rickman). Now as Sweeney Todd, the barber has come home to exact revenge on the sinister judge for making the arrest and breaking up his family.

Todd returns to his former home, which has been left abandoned with peeling wallpaper and shattered mirrors, and meets Mrs. Lovett who runs the meat pie shop downstairs. She informs him that, after the assault, Lucy poisoned herself with arsenic and Turpin took charge of the Barkers’ daughter, Johanna (Jayne Wisener), as his ward. This revelation only fuels Todd’s anger and, with his silver razors in hand, his ‘arm is complete again.’ A musical motif that plays throughout the film punctuates his declaration and foreshadows his upcoming killing spree as the notes are inspired by the hymn “Dies irae”, often referenced in music to evoke themes of death and dying.

After the death of his first victim, a fellow barber (Sacha Baron Cohen) who remembered Barker from the old days, Todd has an epiphany that ‘we all deserve to die.’ In an evocative shot by cinematographer Dariusz Wolski, the killer’s face is splintered by the shards of a broken mirror, externalizing his descent into madness. Then, Burton stages a spectacular sequence in which Todd roams the streets of London taunting potential customers/victims as they appear not to see him. A cut back to him at home with Mrs. Lovett reveals that it was all in his head. This is a rare example of a scene that is more enthralling and translates better onscreen than on the stage.

Mrs. Lovett then has the ghastly idea to dispose of the bodies by grinding and cooking them in her meat pies. Todd slashes through London society as Mrs. Lovett adjusts her recipe accordingly. With the help of Tobias (Ed Sanders), a young apprentice who is unaware of the atrocities, she serves her cannibalistic delicacies to satisfied (and unknowing) customers and her business is booming for the first time. A beggar woman notices black, foul-smelling smoke billowing from the pie shop’s chimney and she tries to warn passers-by that something is terribly wrong, but no one listens.

In the meantime, a sailor named Anthony (Jamie Campbell Bower) observes Johanna staring longingly out of her bedroom window and falls in love with her beauty and innocence. However, when Turpin realizes Anthony’s attraction to his ward, he sends Johanna to an asylum. Anthony runs to tell Todd, whom he met on the ship bound for London, that they must save her, though oblivious to Todd’s relationship to Johanna and his violent crimes. Together, they plan for Todd to distract the judge with a free shave while Anthony breaks her out of the asylum. The finale is both bloody and heartbreaking, and the twist will shock you.

Watching Sweeney Todd is an intensely physical experience. Through Sondheim’s graphic music and lyrics, as well as Burton’s vivid direction, the film manipulates all five senses and evokes visceral reactions to the horrors that play out onscreen. This is amplified by the silver patina that covers most scenes. The discolouration embodies the bleakness and immorality of the characters, while exaggerating the ruby blood splatters and Todd’s red-soaked sleeves. Burton’s expressionistic composition and staging create a surreal space in which we experience the shadows and darkness which live inside Todd’s mind and that he projects, fairly or unfairly, onto the world. Critics agree that the film is a near-perfect musical adaptation that, as Moira Macdonald of The Seattle Times writes, Burton ‘was born to direct.’

In fact, according to Los Angeles Times contributor Paul Brownfield, Burton was initially enamoured with the story while on holiday in London from his studies at CalArts. He began working on a film version after seeing the West End production of Sondheim’s musical in the early 1980s, but it was never realized. Finally, in 2006, acclaimed director Sam Mendes stepped back from the DreamWorks adaptation and Burton was brought on as a replacement. In the end, the auteur’s ghoulish, expressionistic style was most suitable to bringing this story to life.

The Demon Barber of Fleet Street is also not the first retelling of this macabre tale. The murderous barber originally appeared in a 17th-century penny dreadful, published in The People’s Periodical. In 1847, he graced the stage at the Hoxton Theatre in the play “The String of Pearls: The Fiend of Fleet Street”, which served as the inspiration for Christopher Bond’s 1973 stage production, “Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street”, and then Stephen Sondheim and Hugh Wheeler’s 1979 Broadway musical adaptation. Part of the film’s appeal is thus due to the character’s long lineage and legendary status as a mainstay of British pop culture.

Johnny Depp as the homicidal barber is a chameleon whose steep crescendos from distraught family man calmly plotting revenge to maniacal serial throat-slasher elicit sympathy and terror. His vocal performance is admirable and his cockney accent is convincing, though snippets of Jack Sparrow occasionally slip through. Bonham Carter and Rickman are perfectly cast as the scheming baker and revolting villain, while Bower’s performance stands out for his ability to swing seamlessly from knight in shining armour to obsessive lover with flashes of insanity darting in his eyes during his performance of ‘Johanna.’ Burton’s nightmarish world is complete with an exceptional wardrobe designed by Colleen Atwood, winner of the Academy Award for Best Costume Design for Alice in Wonderland (2010), another one of their whimsical collaborations.

Film and television are filled with morally ambiguous hero-villains who attain our compassion for the tragedies they’ve endured, yet disturb and terrify us with their sometimes vicious retributions. In Sweeney Todd, however, we witness a special union of razor-sharp melodies, bone-chilling performances, and surreal staging that pull on our heartstrings and send us cowering in fear. Fifteen years later, the movie industry and our own expectations may have changed, but the film’s powerful effects certainly have not.

Score: 22/24

By Emily Nighman

Recommended for you: Every ‘Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street’ Song Ranked

Since its debut in 1929, the Batman IP has earned $29.1billion worldwide; an indicator as to its size as a powerhouse brand but also its power at connecting to people. On the silver screen, Batman films have made a combined $6.78billion, making it the 7th highest-grossing movie franchise in history. Whether it be the 60s, the 80s, 90s, 00s, 10s, or 20s, it seems that the Batman has remained relevant, his vessel used as a means of exploring issues of our world for better or for worse. In this respect, Batman has become as timeless, as legendary, as enduring, as any great literary figure. Batman is, for all intents and purposes, the 20th century’s Dracula.

Whether made as goofy comedies for the entertainment of children or as darker allegories for the real world aimed at adults, the 10 live-action Batman movies released to date have reached many a height over their 7-decade stay in cinemas, and in this edition of Ranked we here at The Film Magazine are looking at all of them, from Batman (1966) to The Batman (2022), and comparing each in terms of artistic merit, cultural relevance, critical reception, audience perception, and overall enjoyment, to present to you the best Batman movie of all time and, first, the worst, in this: the Live-Action Batman Movies Ranked.

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10. Batman & Robin (1997)

Batman & Robin was so critically panned upon its release that star George Clooney now refuses to comment on his part in it, and director Joel Schumacher actually apologised for the film before his passing in 2020. So bad was this 1997 comic adaptation that it even derailed Warner Bros’ cornerstone franchise, leaving it absent from our screens for the better part of a decade before Christopher Nolan’s Batman Begins was released in 2005.

Batman & Robin was, in total, a series of massive missteps. Thematically it was all over the place, and it was a film very much born out of its own time, Schumacher and Warner Bros completely failing to cater to the anti-authoritarian, teenager-focused, hyper-masculine attitudes of the mid-to-late 90s with their patronising, childish and uninspired offering. It was over-elaborate in parts and almost insultingly reductive in others, and is arguably one of the most corporate and heartless blockbusters of the hyper-corporate 1990s, the film crammed with ideas born of Warner Bros’ merchandising arm more than any creative or artistic intent.

This is the cheap and nasty Batman film, by far the worst live-action offering the franchise has ever offered; a film insulting to those conscious of Batman’s potential and all the ways Warner Bros crammed it full of exploitative merchandising intentions, but one considered boring even by the standards of the very young children it was clearly aimed at.

9. Batman the Movie (1966)

Batman the Movie is… ridiculous. Stupid even. For this reason it has earned the affection of many Batman franchise fans, but a good movie it is not.

Nostalgia for simpler times when superheroes were dorks running around in spandex does make this 1966 offering worthwhile, especially when there are intentional and unintentional laughs around every corner (such as Batman having special shark repellent), and Batman the Movie did establish many of the tropes associated with not only the Batman but wider superhero cinema – even penetrating popular culture with its iconic “na na na na na na na na Batman” theme. Special mention must also be made to Adam West, whose earnest presence in the costume has remained influential and important over the 50-plus years since his last tv episode and the near 60 since this film.

Batman as a character is much evolved from this era however, and the limits to the Batman universe have been vastly expanded in the decades since, this version of the Dark Knight being neither dark nor much of a knight, and the film itself failing to say much of anything about anything. This is turn-your-brain-off fun for fans of the right mindset, but were it not a Batman movie, nobody would be rewatching never mind celebrating this dated, low budget 60s cheese-fest of a film.

Recommended for you: Live-Action Batmen Ranked

Planet of the Apes (2001)
Director: Tim Burton
Screenwriter: William Broyles Jr, Lawrence Konner
Starring: Mark Wahlberg, Helena Bonham Carter, Tim Roth, Michael Clarke Duncan, Paul Giamatti, Estella Warren, Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa, David Warner, Kris Kristofferson, Erick Avari, Charlton Heston 

Various writers and directors at 20th Century Fox had been trying to get a new Planet of the Apes off the ground for over a decade by the time Tim Burton signed on to the project. A sword-and-sandals epic, but with apes, had been mooted, as had a simian Arnold Schwarzenegger actioner. After years of deliberation, in July 2001 Burton’s lavish franchise reboot was released (after a truncated production) to decidedly mixed results. 

While attempting to rescue a chimp test subject from the vacuum of space, astronaut Leo Davidson (Mark Wahlberg) is sucked into a portal and arrives on a strange planet with intelligent apes as the dominant species and humans as their slaves. Meeting human-sympathising ape aristocrat Ari (Helena Bonham Carter), Leo leads a Homo sapien prison break and embarks on a quest to an ape holy ground that contains the remains of his spacecraft, meanwhile the human-hating autocratic ape General Thade (Tim Roth) and his army seeks to wipe out the slave rebellion.

Planet of the Apes 2001 seems to be aiming to offer a very different experience to the 1968 classic of the same name – it wishes to be more epic and grand, but it can never quite escape its forebear’s shadow, and occasionally actively invites the comparison. The effects and makeup of the original might look relatively archaic today, but the complex themes and indelible imagery still hold up and then some. The story changes that screenwriters William Broyles Jr and Lawrence Konner decide to make serve little discernible purpose and the dialogue they decide to keep and re-purpose proves to be ill-thought-through: there’s an early groan-inducing species inversion of the original film’s most famous line, and later there’s a direct quote of the other famous line delivered by a cameoing, apeified Charlton Heston, seemingly under duress. 

This is not Mark Wahlberg’s best work sadly, partly because there’s very little opportunity for him to be earnest, which is what he’s best at, and partly because they filed off every edge of his character until he resembled little more than an astronaut Action Man. Luckily Helena Bonham Carter and Tim Roth make up for his shortcomings, projecting theatrical flourish, humanity (ape-manity? simian-ity?) and a remarkable amount of pathos as different kinds of outcasts from their society, all from behind Rick Baker’s detailed but hugely restrictive prosthetics.

Elsewhere the very best character actors inhabit the ape suits, from a dignified David Warner as a senator to a rumbling Michael Clarke Duncan as a general and Paul Giamatti, whose irredeemable, slimy coward slave trader is a particular highlight and seems to have arrived from a different and far funnier film.

It’s the rich and detailed production design that nearly saves the 2001 Planet of the Apes from bland mediocrity and is particularly memorable for not being typically Burton-y in its aesthetic. Burton is a strange choice for this material in general, with very few instances where you can tell it’s even him at the wheel, and he seems to have largely avoided further studio franchise fare on the back of a bad experience here – he declared afterwards he would “rather jump out a window” than do a sequel. The film’s production is now known to have been incredibly rushed and hobbled by studio interference, and Wahlberg has publicly declared that the script wasn’t good enough from the beginning and that a director like Burton should have been left to do what he does best. What else can be said but that Wahlberg was right.

Recommended for you: Tim Burton Movies Ranked

The film uses a lot of common fantasy epic tropes that would soon be enshrined thanks to the releases of Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter in quick succession later the same year. An unlikely group form a party to go on a quest; a prophecy is foretold; a series of skirmishes and chases break up their long journey leading up to a final decisive pitched battle, and then it all comes down to a one-on-one fight between the main hero and villain.

The fight scenes are pretty well done in general, and you have to feel for the poor stunt performers’ lower backs and legs after spending so long running on all fours as chimps, but the wirework used to make the apes leap ten feet in the air looks pretty laughable, as is the obvious and distracting use of stock sound effects including the infamous Wilhelm Scream in the big battle scene towards the end. 

While the original run of Apes films weren’t always the most tonally consistent films in the world (veering from high-concept parable to cheap schlock cash-in), at least they didn’t give you mood whiplash. On the one hand you have Roth playing a Shakespearean baddie and there’s a creepy scene of a privileged ape family picking out a little girl to be their house pet, and on the other you have something that feels like it has fallen out of a Carry On film when our heroes are being chased by soldiers and run through an ape brothel, interrupting an undressed lady ape teasing her customer. 

Surely if there’s one thing you don’t change in a Planet of the Apes remake it’s the ending? Whether more faithful to the Pierre Boulle novel or not, the new one just doesn’t make a lick of sense and is clearly just there to shock everyone who thinks they know which American landmark will be involved, or worse to set up a never-made sequel that might hypothetically have explained it.

Tim Burton’s Planet of the Apes wasn’t a complete disaster – the production design remains outstanding and a couple of the better performances manage to make a connection – but almost every aspect of the storytelling was miscalculated and it still completely fails not only to live up to the original film or offer something memorably different. Tim Burton and 20th Century Fox left us with a dull, gritty re-imagining that doesn’t know what it wants to be, what it’s trying to say or how to keep its audience’s attention.

8/12

Recommended for you: Planet of the Apes Movies Ranked

Gene Wilder played Willy Wonka in the 1971 film Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory.

The film is to be directed by Paul King, who is best known for directing the recent live-action Paddington movies, both of which proved to be hits critically and commercially. Wonka will see King re-team with his Paddington producer David Heyman, who has produced a range of films including the Harry Potter franchise.

Not much is known about the story aside from that the film will focus on a younger Willy Wonka before he becomes owner of the famous chocolate factory. The film will therefore not be directly based on a specific Roald Dahl novel, as opposed to Willy Wonka’s previous screen appearances.

The script was co-written by King and Simon Farnaby, based on a draft by Simon Rich (An American Pickle). 

It is currently unknown who will play the role of the titular character. Previous incarnations have seen Gene Wilder and Johnny Depp portray the extravagant chocolatier. A source for Collider has said that Warner Bros. are currently eyeing either Tom Holland or Timothée Chalamet, with the hopes of creating a franchise. However, this is not confirmed.

Holland is best known for his role as Spider-Man in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, with the third instalment due to release in December 2021. Outside of that, fans can expect to see plenty more of the actor this year as he has three additional films schedule to release. First is the much delayed Chaos Walking from director Doug Liman (Swingers; The Bourne Identity). The sci-fi film will see Holland star opposite Daisy Ridley (Star Wars) and was originally intended to release in March of 2019. The film will finally hit cinemas in early March 2021. Shortly after comes the crime drama Cherry, directed by Joe and Anthony Russo (Avengers: Endgame), an Apple TV exclusive due to release in late March. Finally, Holland will play Nathan Drake in the video game based movie, Uncharted.

As Holland dominates the world of blockbusters, Chalamet has been appearing in more awards friendly films. Chalamet received an Oscar nomination for his role as Elio in Call Me By Your Name. He has also appeared in many critically successful indie films, like Greta Gerwig‘s Lady Bird and 2019 novel adaptation Little Women. As for upcoming projects, Chalamet will appear in Wes Anderson‘s The French Dispatch, Adam McKay’s Don’t Look Up and will play music legend Bob Dylan in James Mangold‘s Going Electric. In addition to these awards centric films, the upcoming Dune remake will see the actor stepping foot into blockbuster territory, seeming to indicate that Wonka is not outside the realm of possibility.

While neither actor has expressed public interest in Wonka, both would seem like a good fit for the role if Warner Bros. do wish to spawn sequels due to their star power.

The film is currently scheduled to film in September, though this could change depending on permits, laws and licenses imposed by the pandemic.

Edward Scissorhands (1990)
Director: Tim Burton
Screenwriter: Caroline Thompson
Starring: Johnny Depp, Winona Ryder, Dianne Wiest, Anthony Michael Hall, Kathy Baker, Alan Arkin, Vincent Price

The realisation that it has been thirty years since Edward Scissorhands’ first release is indeed staggering. Back when Tim Burton was the unofficial king of all things gothic, his 1990 film was a must-watch for all teenage girls, especially those who could identify with being outcasts or being a part of outcasted subcultures. Generations have passed since then however, and in changing times, as music has evolved from The Cure and Nirvana into less brooding alternatives, and young people have sought solace from increasingly volatile real world politics through the colourful fantasy of superhero cinema and video games; does Edward Scissorhands remain the fresh serving of alternative entertainment it once was, or is it a relic of a laughable by-gone era? Perhaps just as importantly, does anyone even care about Tim Burton anymore?

Since the day it first hit cinema screens, Edward Scissorhands has time and time again been described as a modern day fairy tale, and indeed the plot strikes a resemblance to tales of yore such as Brothers Grimm’s “Hans my Hedgehog” and Gabrielle-Suzanne de Barbot Villeneuve’s “Beauty and the Beast”. It could also be interpreted as a modern update of the Frankenstein story. Yet, amongst this flurry of comparisons, Burton’s story remains quintessentially unique. It is, after all, a simple yet curious tale about where snow comes from.

The titular Edward (Johnny Depp in perhaps his second most iconic role behind that of Jack Sparrow in Pirates of the Caribbean) is a man who was created by an Inventor (Vincent Price) in a mansion overlooking a pastel-coloured suburban haven. The elderly Inventor raised Edward to be a genteel and sweet man, but died before finishing him, leaving Edward with a set of huge razor-sharp scissors for hands. In Edward Scissorhands, Edward remains alone and incomplete in the mansion until (of all things) an Avon Representative, Peg Boggs (Dianne Wiest), comes knocking on the door. Overwhelmed with compassion at the sight of the pale and scarred Edward, Peg decides to take the awkward and unusual man down to the suburban haven below in the hope of forging a better life for him. Within this epitome of late 20th century Middle America, Edward seems to discover a new found love and acceptance as he becomes a figure of curiosity and inspiration through his unassuming character and moreso through his creative (and useful) talent channelled through his scissor-hands. But just as soon as Edward and his hands become an object of adoration and praise, he is transformed into a figure of fear and revulsion. Although his scissor-hands are a source of beauty, they bear the constant danger of damaging the things and people around him.

By no means is Edward Scissorhands the beginning of director Tim Burton’s journey as an auteur; our King of the Goths has directed movies and shorts with his quirky visual style and weirdness since the 70s. This particular film is most definitely one of the most important entries in his oeuvre however, easily being one of the most cherished of his works. Scissorhands increased Tim Burton’s appeal, as it helped to define key factors that have ensured the continuing popularity of the Burton “brand”. We had a continuation of the casting of Winona Ryder following her star turn in Beetlejuice, helping to establish her as the edgy leading lady of the era, and Danny Elfman was again chosen as musical composer, resulting in a haunting score that is so characteristic of Burton’s work that any Burton film would be incomplete without the composer’s influence. It is also the beginning of Burton’s partnership with Johnny Depp, which has spanned to this very day. Yet, amongst the tried and tested tropes that are oh so typical of a successful Burton directed piece, it is the wholly unique qualities of Edward Scissorhands that make it a stand-out release in the director’s filmography. Out of a body of work defined largely by its visually driven and stylistic directorial intent, Edward Scissorhands rises up with a very clear and loud message.

Just like many Burton films, Edward Scissorhands dances the borderline between the ordinary and fantasy – a reality very much like our own is presented, but one into which a little magic bleeds. With a career shaped within animation, Burton makes full use of a movie’s aesthetics to create its internal universe, and Edward Scissorhands is no exception to this with its day and night duality of the gothic mansion (which wouldn’t be out of place in a 1930s Universal Pictures Horror) and the vivid yet bland architecture of the surrounding suburbia. Overall, the design is very much an over-exaggeration, and initially it would be easy to worry that the film would be a very cartoonish affair. However, the appropriate amount of whimsy is achieved, which can be attributed to Edward Scissorhands’ astute observation of human character.

Burton’s thorough understanding of human behaviour means that Scissorhands manages to encapsulate the deep fantasies found within a teenage girl’s heart: that is the innate desire to be adored. Through High Schooler Kim (Winona Ryder) – Peg’s daughter – does many a young girl’s greatest desire come true as she becomes the subject of Edward’s devotion. In a world of mediocrity, she wins the affections of the most incredible being that she will ever know in her entire life. The love between Edward and Kim is, as perhaps should be expected given their on-screen age, very much adolescent – upon repeated watches you do question what caused Edward to fall so hard for Kim; the reasoning is so thin it’s almost a plot discrepancy. Even so, it’s a tale as old as old as time – to be touched by greatness so as to become great yourself – and what becomes clearer and more greatly appreciated from Edward Scissorhands’ world of deadly accurate caricatures of human life is the story that indeed remains relevant thirty years on from its first release.

Whether or not we include romance and magic in the analysis of Edward Scissorhands, it remains quite clear that this is a film that is essentially about being “different”. It’s an excellent piece of satire with regards to late 1980s Middle Class America – consumerist, shallow and utterly devoid of meaning – and of course all the familiar faces of the era are present in glorious exaggerated form (Alan Arkin as Peg’s husband Bill is very much the typical not-quite-present, half-hearted father figure; Anthony Michael Hall manages to break his high school geek type-casting as the villainous and boorish Jim; Kathy Baker steals the show as the eternally bored housewife, always overly eager for adultery; even Peg fits a not-so-flattering role – she has the noblest intentions towards Edward but is still deeply affected by peer pressure and consequently some of her decisions are not in Edward’s best interests), but woven into its every piece of construction is the thought to present what it’s like to feel and/or be different. As Sara Ann of The Mighty suggests, Edward Scissorhands is a film about disability.

“Edward tries to succeed and fit in, but he finds himself trapped by numerous barriers and challenges.”

Like so many of those tone deaf social media posts in which a person living with a disability is hailed as an “inspiration”, Edward is marvelled at like a museum exhibit (or even a sideshow) and is even fetishised by the townswomen. He is failed in his disability.

Many of the microaggressions are genuinely saddening, and the sorrow furrows deeper when we realise their presence in our own world. Edward’s talents are constantly used (and even abused at some points), with his exceptional hedge trimming, dog grooming and hair styling going largely unpaid for – and then the real kicker is that he’s rejected the financial assistance he needs to start his own legitimate business. We take a journey of frustration, witnessing the lack of real accommodation for Edward’s needs – despite the Boggs’ attempts at inclusion, it’s clear Edward’s stay with them is not comfortable for him. Stand out moments are Edward’s saga with the water bed that offers him no restful sleep (remember, razor sharp hands), and Bill offering him a whisky (after about two minutes of listening to Edward failing to take a drink does he remember to offer him a straw). Then, the tide turns against Edward as he becomes feared and loathed – a whole section of academia can be dedicated to humanity’s treatment of, and the media’s depictions of, people with disabilities, in which physical disabilities are often equated with having a poor character or, worse, with being outright evil. As Tim Burton trashes this harmful stereotype, his decision to display Edward’s fear of the police still hits hard today with the sobering knowledge of the judicial system’s treatment of those with mental health issues (an article from The Washington Post reported that the incidences of mental illness in those executed on death row is much higher than that of the general public).

In being able to articulate these extremely serious and legitimate parallels with real life, Edward Scissorhands really is Tim Burton’s filmmaking triumph, with this now thirty year old film truly establishing the director as one of Hollywood’s most iconic filmmakers. Not only does Burton provide the perfect escapism with this movie’s magic, but he advocates for the dignity and the intrinsic value of all human life. Just because it’s not evident to our prejudiced eyes, it doesn’t mean it’s not there – surely Edward being the one responsible for the Christmas snow is proof enough.

20/24

Recommended for you: Tim Burton Movies Ranked

It was the sweep of Pete Wentz’s dark fringe and the bright orange hues of Hayley Williams’ ever-changing hairstyles. It was the sharp, skin-tingling opening note of “Welcome to the Black Parade” and Gerard Way’s powerful, melodic voice. It was ruining your hair with every different colour of Manic Panic hair dye, wearing an exclusive uniform of black skinny jeans, converse and band t-shirts, and spending way too much time on Myspace. It was extremely over-eyelinered eyes and lip piercings we grew to regret. It was wallpapering our bedrooms with Kerrang band posters and crying actual tears when Fall Out Boy announced their split in 2010 (yeah, we got them back, but it’s not the same).

Although defined primarily through fashion and music, when the local venues were fresh out of touring bands, emo kids had to find alternative ways to entertain themselves. For many, this entertainment came in the form of movies – but not just any movies. To be accepted into the emo-canon, acceptable cinema had to meet specific criteria. Emo movies had to be dark and emotional while also supplying us with a rockin’ soundtrack. Pained, awkwardly misunderstood protagonists were a must, and mythical beings were a welcomed sight—as long as they were skinny, fashionable or members of the living dead.

Film is the lesser explored medium of the emo aesthetic. Still, given that we are currently living in a world without live music, there is no better time to journey back to the era of the emo kid and revisit the movies they all once loved. This is Panic! at the Movies – An Emo Top 10 Watchlist.

Fellow emos unite in the comments, and be sure to follow us on Twitter for more articles like this one.

1. The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993)

Becoming a The Nightmare Before Christmas super-fan was an unquestionable emo requirement. Due to the Pumpkin King’s flair for dramatics, fashionable attire and melancholic feelings of isolation, emo kids adopted Skellington as their unofficial mascot. His slender image was everywhere, appearing on almost every desirable emo accessory, including bags, clothes, shoes, make-up, note-pads and bed sheets.

Coming from the mind of Tim Burton, The Nightmare Before Christmas celebrates every theme the notoriously spooky director is famed for. Jack Skellington is the king of Halloween Town, a place dedicated to celebrating monsters and all things dark and creepy. After becoming disillusioned with the idea of existing to scare people, Skellington discovers Christmas Town, a place dedicated to bringing joy and celebrating the cosy happiness of Yuletide. Excited by his discovery, Skellington tries to share it with the residents of Halloween Town. However, they grossly misunderstand the festive holiday and do not share Skellington’s desire to celebrate it. Skellington kidnaps and steals the role of ‘Sandy Claus’ for himself, delivering monstrous presents to the children of Christmas Town. Their ensuing horror and fear reignite Skellington’s forgotten passion for Halloween and reminds him of who he is and why he adores all things spooky.

Burton packaged a hauntingly catchy score and eerily designed characters into an animated children’s movie while fusing the radically opposing genre tropes of horror and musicals and the mismatched themes of Halloween and Christmas. The conflicting nature of his subject matter created a whimsical journey of existential dread. It birthed an affinity for dark and drab aesthetics, twisted humour, and ironic performance in every emo kid who carried Jack’s slender image around with them.

*See also Coraline and The Corpse Bride

Recommended for you: Tim Burton Movies Ranked

2. Jennifer’s Body (2009)

Directed by Karyn Kusama and written by Diablo Cody, Jennifer’s Body was a delectable addition into the canon of teenage slasher movies.

It experiments with both horror and comedy, creating a narrative that is essentially Mean Girls meets Nightmare on Elm Street. The film seduced emo kids with its honest portrayal of puberty and high school worries alongside a sexy depiction of a teenage girl turned succubus, brutally murdering a slew of horny teenage boys. It also paid homage to the greatest emo bands of the time with its remarkable soundtrack, featuring such iconic bands as Panic! At the Disco, Cute Is What We Aim For and All Time Low. Plus, Jennifer has a poster of Fall Out Boy above her bed, so you know she gets it.

At the time of its release, Jennifer’s Body was marketed to straight teenage boys and rested heavily on Megan Fox’s undeniable attractiveness to lure in the lads. Yet, what exists underneath the sex appeal is far more exciting and intelligent than anybody cared to notice at the time.

Jennifer’s Body is a feminist revenge narrative which demonises rape culture and paints a scarily truthful depiction of the kind of threats facing girls in high school. Cody brilliantly captures the flavour of conversations teenage girls have with one another, which, although cheesy and endlessly quotable, are used to punch up rather than down. Both female protagonists were much more than their recognisable roles of the ‘pretty girl’ and the ‘nerdy girl’, and got the room to explore their layered personalities and developing sexualities. The world we live in now is yearning for engaging female-driven narratives, so it’s disappointing that Jennifer’s Body wasn’t given the recognition it deserved.

Megan Fox as Jennifer is perhaps one of the most spot-on examples of casting we have. Her character is used as a virginal sacrifice by a group of unsuccessful rockers to further their career, a narrative which is shockingly familiar to Fox’s own experiences with Transformers director, Michael Bay. Fox is beyond outstanding as Jennifer. She delivers brilliantly nuanced, airhead one-liners such as ‘I’m not killing people, I’m killing boys’ and chilling satanic horror in her portrayal of a stunning, murderous demon.

Jennifer’s Body is an essential rewatch and endlessly deserving of your reconsideration. 

Recommended for you: Nightmare on Elm Street Movies Ranked

Whilst the voices of the cast for this gothic musical aren’t considered to have been the best to have ever been featured in a film, the songs remain some of the most catchy and most epic put to screen this century.

That’s why in this edition of Ranked, we’re ranking every song from Tim Burton’s Sweeney Todd from worst to best. Stick around to see if your favourite makes it to the top spot.

Have an opinion? Let us know in the comments or tweet us!

20. Alms! Alms! – Lucy Barker/Beggar Woman

Of all the songs in this movie, this one falls easily into the number 20 spot. It’s just… not great. It’s not even catchy!

19. Ladies In Their Sensitivities – Beedle Bamford

Ah yes… stubble. Because that’s why the girl you keep imprisoned in your house doesn’t want to marry you!

The purpose of this song seems out of touch with today’s standards, and honestly it’s just not very memorable either.

18. Green Finch and Linnet Bird – Johanna

We’ve quickly hit the “not actually terrible” range of songs with this one. The issue here is that “Green Finch and Linnet Bird” feels out of place in comparison to the rest of the songs in the movie. Moreover, it’s not an exciting song to watch on the big screen.

Girl sits by window. Boy watches her from the street. Man watches her through the wall. Nobody really does anything.

Yawn.

17. Wait – Mrs. Lovett

This son is a twisted lullaby really, isn’t it?

Mrs. Lovett is essentially trying to talk a grown man out of throwing a tantrum when all she really wants to do is decide which flowers to put out. It’s not the best song in the film but it does get points for comedic value.

In this list, we’re counting down every film from this truly unique director’s filmography and ranking them from worst to best, so put on your best striped apparel, muss up your hair and accompany me in a long and elaborate tracking shot into the Burton-verse…

19. Planet of the Apes (2001)

Starring: Mark Wahlberg, Helena Bonham Carter, Tim Roth, Michael Clarke Duncan, Paul Giamatti

Plot: An astronaut crashes on a planet where apes have out-evolved and enslaved humanity. He befriends a chimp who has become a lonely outsider by protesting the inhumane treatment of the subjugated humans. The two begin to organise a rebellion…

The poster-child for when Burton gets it wrong, Planet of the Apes is pretty good to look at (which Burton movie isn’t?) but it’s completely soulless and almost impossible to engage with in any meaningful way – the main thing that has allowed the original Planet of the Apes to age so well is its wealth of ideas and the filmmakers’ abilities to give them room to breathe. Despite being more action-packed and significantly pacier, Burton’s take feels rushed and confused, and very little stays with you beyond Rick Baker’s flawless makeup effects and the best efforts of Helena Bonham Carter and Tim Roth. The bottom line is that it’s boring; the only Burton feature you could really level that criticism at.

Recommended for you: 10 of the Worst Remakes/Reboots

18. Alice in Wonderland (2010)

Starring: Johnny Depp, Helena Bonham Carter, Mia Wasikowska, Anne Hathaway, Stephen Fry

Plot: Alice Kingsleigh, whose determination to retain her independence has made her a lonely outsider in Victorian high society, returns to Wonderland having forgotten her childhood adventure. There she finds the fantastical realm is a shadow of its former foolish glory.

Who else thought that this would be perfect material for Burton?

The portions that faithfully recreate Lewis Carroll’s endearing nonsense are good, but sadly most of this is confined to brief flashbacks and instead we’re left with a new story that for some reason is trying to turn Alice into a fantasy epic. Alice isn’t The Lord of the Rings. It’s not even Narnia. Nor should it be.

Burton gets bogged down in clunky exposition and portentous talk of prophecy and destiny, and the world, while admittedly colourful, feels too fake even for a dreamland. This film makes it really easy to miss the days when Burton played in big, ambitious movie sets rather than in front of a greenscreen.

Mia Wasikowska is admittedly a great Alice, equal parts bewildered and strong-willed, and Stephen Fry makes a perfect smug Cheshire Cat, but everyone else in the cast is just treading water.

17. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (2005)

Starring: Johnny Depp, Freddie Highmore, David Kelly, Helena Bonham Carter, Noah Taylor

Plot: Dirt poor but positive young Charlie Bucket finds a golden ticket that grants him a tour of the reclusive, lonely outsider Willy Wonka’s weird and wonderful chocolate factory.

Maybe Burton should leave the adaptations well alone.

The famously distinctive director never seems as comfortable bringing someone else’s established world to life, even if he’s coming at it as a fan. No-one’s denying that this is a more faithful adaptation of Roald Dahl’s book than the Gene Wilder movie, or that Burton’s visual flare and strange Anglo-American neverwhere movie world makes an impression, but the movie references peppered throughout are a really weird grab-bag, the borderline colonialist tone of some of the fantasy sequences leave a bad taste and Depp’s take on Wonka with daddy issues is just plain irritating to spend any length of time with.

Can you believe they actually trained squirrels to shell nuts on camera?

Recommended for you: Original vs Remake: Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory vs Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

16. Dark Shadows (2012)

Starring: Johnny Depp, Eva Green, Michelle Pfeiffer, Chloe Grace Moretz, Helena Bonham Carter

Plot: Centuries-old vampire Barnabas Collins awakens in the 1970s to restore his descendants’ former glory and seek revenge on the witch who cursed him, but can this family of lonely outsiders find their place in the world again?

Johnny Depp doing a funny voice in a wig and makeup? Check. Gothic sensibility? Check. Comedy of awkwardness? Check. This represents mid-to-low level Burton, the kind of thing he could make in his sleep: perfectly watchable and by no means inept but offering very little that’ll stay with you. Okay, it’s got a sex-fight-scene between Depp’s vampire and Eva Green’s witch, and there’s also some pretty good effects work as the aforementioned witch is losing her powers and seems to fracture like pottery. But… elsewhere it’s just oral sex jokes that are borderline inappropriate for the film’s certification and Depp pulling faces.