In my humble and arguably warped view, this remains one of the greatest films ever made. This is in no small part down to the delicate yet sweeping arrangements of Danny Elfman. In my eyes, this remains a wonderful film - Tim Burton’s finest moment - because of its dualities: the seamless co-existence of dark and light, death and love, brutality and fragility. All staple themes in Burton’s work, but never quite matched to the omnipotent degree found in ‘Edward Scissorhands’.
This is a fairy tale, pure and simple, from the opening scenes of the grandmother reciting her story to her granddaughter. The soundtrack deals both with the dualities and the fairytale element in solidifying harmony that results in a frightening, fragile, and haunting soundtrack. We feel tension, anguish, confusion, and love for the characters because we are guided there by the musical arrangements. Burton takes a children’s format and places it in an adult context, whilst Elfman takes an adult format and makes us feel like children.
There is a sinister and malevolent underbelly to this film, and it is subtle yet biting in its satire. The sickly, pastel-colours - the housing, clothing, furniture and streets - stab deep at the heart of the drab and sterile life of suburban mid-town America. Even the job of the Avon lady is integral because it gives us a view into the vain and vacuous world of the gossip queens and divorcee’s that fill the model village. The haunted mansion on the end of the road is of course traditional in a fairytale sense, and metaphorical in the film and narrative sense. The emotional weight and investment we as viewers place on the title character, however, transforms this from a normal fairytale into something quite magnificent; a touching reflection on alienation, fickleness, and the depravity and love that humans can so easily exhibit almost simultaneously.
The auditory experience we encounter here is as invaluable as the visions we confront. On The Cookie Factory, Elfman is playful yet sinister as he matches the odd quirks and the bizarre inventions we see along the conveyer belt the early scenes. As the film grows, the soundtrack flourishes alongside it; it is ubiquitous whilst remaining pertinent and faithful to the individual elements of the film. It’s magical but malicious. It’s beautiful but biting. It’s soft but serious. All of these elements are directly applicable to the characters and narrative itself. When Edward is framed for robbery and locked in the room scratching and clambering at the door like a frightened puppy, we feel those emotions, we feel the frantic tension as he goes on his rampage retreating to his mansion.
The dichotomy of the film and soundtrack comes with the contrast of the ice dance, his retreat, the death, and the finale. Angelic and moving as they share their first true intimate moment, then frantic and frightening for the chase that ensues to rid him. The fluctuation of sounds and moods created by Elfman flawlessly mirrors the fickleness of the neighborhood.
The final scene - like a textbook fairytale end - is bold and brilliant. Grand, sweeping strings rise with such emotion as to lift the characters right out of the scene and into your heart. The ‘Edward Scissorhands’ soundtrack encompasses its dark fairytale nature with such conviction and weight that it becomes its own art form - not merely an accompaniment to another one, but so full of floating arrangements that it possesses a multi-faceted story in itself. Almost one you can create yourself - it opens so many alleyways that, while it still embodies a definitive sound, you can be carried away in it, anywhere you want. Enjoy it in its intended context and marvel at Elfman’s ability to make something so unique and moving, or listen to it separately, in the dark or in the sunshine, and be taken to completely different dimensions.