Directed by:  Tim Burton

Written by: Daniel Wallace and John August

Starring:  Ewan McGregor, Albert Finney, Billy Crudup, Jessica Lange, Helena Bonham Carter, Steve Buscemi

Rated:  PG-13 (Violence and Some Nudity)

Length:  125 Minutes

Tim Burton has already proven himself a visionary.  The general evolution from "Pee Wee's" now infamous romp to the wildly exaggerated "Sleepy Hollow" has been both exciting and fascinating to watch.  I suppose, though, that after having displayed his knack for eccentric visual vernacular, Burton has come to feel a sense of dread.  A career spent amazing audiences with overwhelming imagination has left little time to develop strong critical acceptance.  Only "Ed Wood" skimmed the heights that Burton appears so desperate to achieve.  And if there is one thing I learned from watching his latest offering, "Big Fish," it's that Burton is running scared.

The concept behind "Big Fish" is nothing new.  What is new is the manner in which the concept is delivered.  Based on a lackluster novel, the film chronicles the life and times of Edward Bloom, as his son, William, is summoned for a last minute heart-to-heart.  Edward, who is played both by Ewan McGregor (young) and Albert Finney (senior), has collected an amalgam of tales that seem too tall to be told with a straight face.  William (Crudup) confronts his father with this dilemma and together they share what equates to the greatest hits from Edward's seemingly epic life.  Visiting everything from a southern rendition of Homer's Circe (Carter), to the stylings of a Siamese singing duo, the audience is certainly provided with a wide, if not uninspired, variety of colorful characters.

These fanciful diversions, unfortunately, are where Burton's seams begin to show.  While the sets and situations do indeed have the Burtonesque flair, they sorely lack any real depth.  More importantly, screen time is not the factor in these shallow waters.  Burton looks to be deliberately pulling his punches, choosing to play down to the audience rather than play up his own ability for cinematic contortion.  There were dozens of missed opportunities, failed attempts, and absurd additions that rampantly beleaguered the story.  To the point, nothing was accomplished in "Big Fish" other than one of the most stunning collections of wasted potential that I've ever seen.

To its credit, "Big Fish" has an amazing cast.  While the talents of said crew were perhaps not fully realized (most glaringly in McGregor's performance, who appeared more bored than awed by the events unfolding), each delivery made a near-gem out of even the most hackneyed of lines.  Bushemi delights in his slightly crooked existence as once poet Norther Winslow.  Crudup and Finney construct a father/son relationship out of bulimic air and convince onlookers that the events of the movie's end actually matter.  To care about a literal army of roughly sketched characters is indeed an achievement.

Out of all of his films, "Big Fish" is the most potent witness to Burton trying too hard.  What could have been a memorable symphonic score became a dress rehearsal of muted notes.  In this year's Oscar race, the Academy surprised me in not choosing "Big Fish" for a Best Picture nomination.  All of the right strokes were there for making the cut; a character's struggle to reconnect and overcome some patently contrived obstacle; a collection of stunning visuals that please more than challenge or disturb the audience.  No, amazingly the Academy saw this one for what it was; an overly melodramatic and bloated piece of sentimental nonsense.  In other words, a floater.

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