Tim Burton has been synonymous with gradually diminishing returns since Sweeney Todd nearly a decade ago. Skyrocketing budgets and increasing creative freedom has sent the director’s output further and further into nonsensical indulgence. One held out hope that Big Eyes, his smallest budget since Ed Wood, would bring back some of the more paired-back magic of days before big-money Hollywood came knocking. But the mostly forgettable film was stripped bare by a screenplay that moved the focus from Margaret Keane at every opportunity, not helped by Christoph Waltz’s hammy turn.
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