Tim Burton’s Lonely Children

What do we think of when we think of a Tim Burton movie? Perhaps it’s a gothic production design, a dark and brooding atmosphere, or a whimsical world full of magic and madness. Above all else, however, we likely think of his iconic characters.

Pee-wee Herman, Edward Scissorhands, Batman, and Willy Wonka are just a few of the recognizable personas Burton has helped bring to the big screen. As these characters engage with the world around them—even as that world rejects them or views them as less-than-human—audiences for nearly 40 years have resonated with these strangely loveable outcasts. A common thread for many of Burton’s characters is their relationships with parental figures. His body of work poses an essential question for Christians to wrestle with: How should we rectify the tension that exists between the call to honor our father and mother and the all-too-common reality that some parents fail to “(s)tart children off on the way they should go”? Can Burton’s lonely children provide potential answers to complicated questions about how to properly live out these scriptural commands?

Burton’s childhood has been described as “reclusive,” partly, one can presume, due to his remote relationship with his own parents. Burton has stated in the past that he was not “particularly close” with his parents, though he described them as “good people”—a far cry from the ghoulish mother and father figures who haunt many of his films. Still, he seems to reflect on his past with sadness and channels the isolation and apparent coldness he received from his parents into his films.

Family drama (and trauma) became a central theme of Burton’s filmmaking from the beginning. Vincent, an early animated short Burton made in 1982, portrays a young boy lost in his macabre imagination, to the great annoyance of his mother. Rather than adequately dealing with her son’s fantasies, the faceless mother tries to get young Vincent to engage in activities considered “normal,” like playing outside. This mother became a template for other parental figures: faceless, cold, and not properly engaging with her child and his potential struggles. The film ends where it begins: with Vincent feeling alone and terrified.

Loneliness is a key component of Burton’s protagonists, who also often set off on adventures of self-discovery. These characters embark on these journeys often because of absent parents. Sometimes that lack of parental guidance is due to tragedy, such as the death of Bruce Wayne’s parents, which haunts Burton’s two Batman films, as well as the death of Edward Scissorhands’ creator and substitute father (Vincent Price) in that 1990 release. Often, though, the parental figures feature prominently, looming over the story, almost always in negative ways.

Consider Victor Van Dort’s parents in the stop-motion animated Corpse Bride, from 2005. His parents, wealthy fish merchants, arrange their son’s marriage to Victoria for purely financial and social reasons—this way, as the opening song says, things will go “according to plan.” Victor is forced into a situation by his parents without any shred of choice. The nervousness he emanates during the wedding rehearsal—ending in disaster and his fleeing to the forest—perhaps stems from the pressure he feels to please his parents. The eventual love he finds for Victoria—after an encounter with the undead Emily, the titular corpse bride—comes despite his parents’ demanding and detached demeanor. Burton clearly paints the parents as the villains—conniving, scheming, and unloving.

Corpse Bride is far from the only example. Oswald Cobblepott’s parents send their newborn son floating down into the Gotham sewers in a perverse twist on the Moses story in Batman Returns, leading the deformed child to become the villainous Penguin. The Deetz parents seem more concerned with their new and possibly haunted house than they are with their daughter, Lydia (Winona Ryder), in the original Beetlejuice. Even Wednesday Addams (Jenna Ortega) calls her parents “evil puppeteers who want to pull my strings even from afar” in the pilot episode of the recent Netflix series Wednesday (Burton served as producer and directed the first four episodes). The misuse and abuse of parental authority, then, clearly represents a consistent thread running throughout Burton’s signature accomplishments.

Christians who witness lapses in parenting either on film or in real life may think of some key biblical texts, from the aforementioned proverb to Psalm 127:3, which reminds parents (and everyone else) that children are a “heritage” and “reward” from the Lord. Burton’s films are in one sense a critique of those figures who view childhood as anything other than a gift. His parent characters view their children as opportunities or baggage, not as blessings.

A question that springs to mind, then, is how children should respond to these types of parents. Surely, they are not required to obey the fifth commandment if their fathers and mothers refuse to hold up their end of the deal. Sometimes Burton’s characters escape their prisons and run away from their parents; in Lydia Deetz’s case, she simply writes off her parents as crazy, refusing to hold any type of respect for them. Each case results in both loneliness on the part of the child and dissatisfaction and regret on the part of the parents.

Thankfully, Burton offers a potential answer to this tension in three of his films, each of which bring to the table the biblical concept of reconciliation. One of his most peculiar projects, 2003’s Big Fish, is strange in that it doesn’t necessarily scream “Tim Burton!” It’s lighter and more sentimental, while still featuring a wide array of unusual characters. The film chronicles a falling out between a father, Ed Bloom (Albert Finney), and his son, William (Billy Crudup). William grows increasingly frustrated with his father’s tall tales, feeling as though everything he knows about his father is a lie. William tells his father: “I’m only seeing the little bit that sticks above the water.” The film’s back-and-forth confrontations between the two become recognitions of faults in their individual own worldviews. Eventually, by having real conversations, they eventually see the goodness in each other.

Two years later, Burton added a touching scene towards the end of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, his adaptation of the Roald Dahl children’s novel. Again, the scene involves a character confronting his father; this time, Willy Wonka (Johnny Depp) visits his estranged father (Christopher Lee), a dentist, who had seemingly abandoned his son when he was younger. Wonka up until this point has not held family connection in high regard, not able to understand how young Charlie would deny the chance to run Wonka’s prized chocolate factory if it meant leaving his own family behind. This brief interaction—the father examining his son’s teeth and afterwards sharing a short embrace—gives Wonka a new outlook, one that stresses the true happiness one can have in the presence of a loving family.

The third film that addresses the idea of reconciliation between family members is his most recent endeavor: Beetlejuice Beetlejuice, a comical follow-up to his wonderfully wacky 1988 effort. While the sequel relies a little too heavily on its predecessor’s magic, it adds an extra layer of emotion thanks to Jenna Ortega’s character, Astrid, the daughter of Lydia Deetz from the first film. (Spoilers ahead.) While Lydia and Astrid have their own mother-daughter issues to work out, the two are also mourning the loss of Astrid’s father. When the antics of Betelgeuse (Michael Keaton) and Jeremy (Arthur Conti)—Astrid’s love interest, who is less charming and truthful than he at first seems—bring both Lydia and Astrid into the afterlife, there is an emotional high note when the two are reunited with their lost loved one. Astrid’s father (Santiago Cabrera) shares a powerful line about the need for family: “We need each other. We make each other better.”

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice serves as a good reminder that human beings aren't meant to be lonely. God instituted the family unit to help iron sharpen iron—to give young people guidance from wise people who love them. Burton’s films show audiences the depths of evil and human depravity, a sinful nature that runs so deep that even parents abandon or mistreat their own children. In his worlds, obeying the command to honor our parents sometimes seems impossible, while parents instructing their children in the ways of the Lord are nowhere to be found. Yet, in a few instances, Burton at least reveals the love and positive change that godly reconciliation can bring, especially to the lonely and outcast.

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At Think Christian, we encourage careful cultural discernment. We recognize and respect that many Christians choose not to engage with pop culture that contains particular content, such as abuse, sex, violence, alcohol or drug use, or that employs the use of coarse language. To that end, we suggest visiting Common Sense Media for detailed information regarding the content of the particular pieces of pop culture discussed in this article.