Reuniting with Ed Wood screenwriters Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewsk, Burton paints a vividly complex picture of gender bias and repressed creativity, with a whole lot of betrayal thrown in for good measure. After leaving her first husband, no small act back in those days, Margaret met Walter Keane; a painter who resembles a street mime when we first see him. It's the perfect look for a guy who always seems to be performing, selling some aspect of his personality. He notices her talent for painting right away; the two become a pair, and soon the Keane empire is born as her paintings of sad, big-eyed children become a global sensation. There's just one big problem: Margaret didn't get any credit for her work for over a decade.
How does something like that happen? It was an era of creatively-stifled housewives and male dominance, that's how. Plenty of brilliant women were held back by a system that didn't value their input on anything except cooking and child-rearing, and Margaret bought into it while Walter exploited it. He convinced her nobody would buy her work unless his name was on it. He may have been right, too, but that doesn't make him any less of a creep. While he lives the high life, making famous friends and meeting powerful dignitaries, she's literally locked away churning out picture after picture while her daughter anguishes. Burton, along with another reliably strong performance by Adams, let us in on the quiet sadness of Margaret's plight. She's ashamed and fearful of the lie she helped Walter construct; to admit the truth would be to admit a fraud. But she's also fiercely protective of her work and has a deep emotional connection to it. As Walter begins the mass production of the art, putting them in stores and on household goods everywhere, it's like something deep within Margaret's soul dies.
But what the Keanes are known for nowadays is the bizarre turn their marriage would ultimately take. They would go to court to decide who the true artist was and Walter turned it into a complete circus. Waltz taps into Walter's pathetic, increasingly desperate core. Where Margaret believes art can touch people's lives, Walter sees it as just another get-rich-quick scheme appealing to those looking for the latest fad. It's easy to see why Burton would take to this story as it also works as a spot-on metaphor for the kinds of passionless films he's churned out in the past. Visually, this is probably the least obvious Burton movie he's ever done. While the color palette and somewhat kitschy tone give it away eventually, Big Eyes is a true and very welcome departure. Rating: 4 out of 5
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