Fresh off a divorce, highly peculiar for the era, a timid young mother throws herself into the art scene of 1950s San Francisco. There, she falls under the spell of Walter Keane, an unspectacular local painter who’s been pestering critics and making “real” artists roll their eyes for years. Together, the two make a sort of magic - while she quietly produces kitschy, haunting portraits, he finds a space to hang them, drums up publicity and schmoozes with the right people. It’s a wildly successful artist/manager partnership, especially when Keane hits on the idea of mass-producing the work to reach a new, lower-income audience, but success goes to his head. Just as they reach the big time, he begins taking credit for her work, and that lie soon eclipses their relationship.

Though it’s directed by Tim Burton, who cites Margaret Keane as an important personal influence, _Big Eyes_ is decidedly un-Burton in most every way. I would’ve expected the director to embrace the more ostentatious aspects of the atomic age, to add his own unique perspective to the creative process and the tackier side of the art scene. Instead, everything just feels run-of-the-mill and workmanlike. He tells the story adequately enough, but adds nothing that wasn’t already printed in the script. Everything’s so blasé, an interesting story told in a thoroughly uninteresting way.

Burton’s gone straight once or twice before - notably in _Ed Wood_, his most traditional film and first biographical work - but there’s a wide gulf between the emotional punch and subtle character moments of these two films. Even the obligatory accompanying Danny Elfman soundtrack lacks its quirky beats and unmistakable idiosyncrasies. It seems this once-vibrant creative well has run dry, its source content to keep wringing and hope for a few drips of eccentric nostalgia. Nothing so far.

Film making could be the windows of the soul...

Directed by Tim Burton and written by Scott Alexander & Larry Karaszewski, Big Eyes brings to the screen the story of artist Margaret Keane (Amy Adams), who was producing a number of paintings of waifs with big eyes that captured the art world's imagination. Unfortunately her charlatan husband (Christolph Waltz) manipulated the interest in her work to claim it as his own, leading to Margaret having to front up to the lie and take the case to court.

Quite often the beauty of filmic cinema is that it can bring notice to the public about certain topics in history. The story of Margaret Keane is a story well worth telling, it may not be all encompassing as a biography since it is just about the key part of her life, but getting the story out there is to be applauded. I myself knew nothing about the Keane case, but I'm glad I do now, this film adaptation forcing me to seek out further reading on the subject.

It actually doesn't matter if you have a bent for art on canvas (me, but I do find those paintings beautifully beguiling), this is more about the human spirit, the crushing of such and the birth of. However, sadly to a degree the film often seems at odds with itself via tonal flows. There's whimsy where there shouldn't be, the drama should be front and centre, whilst Waltz's performance is awfully cartoonish, way too animated, and these problems are laid firmly at Burton's door, an odd choice of director for the material, it's like they felt the off kilter look of the paintings marked Burton as a shoe-in to direct.

Conversely he gets a sparkling turn out of Adams, she plays Margaret as being so vulnerable but radiant, yet she's perfectly infuriating as well, tugging our heart strings whilst troubling our anger senses. It's the strength of Adams' turn that steers Big Eyes away from choppy waters, for even as the court case that makes up the finale is given too little time to breath and make the ultimate mark, Adams as Margaret holds her own court and seals the deal for a big uplift - which in turn marks Big Eyes out as a film of great warmth and importance. 7.5/10