Ed Wood

After seeing Dark Shadows, the eighth collaboration between director Tim Burton and actor Johnny Depp, I thought back on their other films together. They are probably the most closely associated director-actor duo since John Ford and John Wayne and, on balance, their films have been better than average (Alice in Wonderland is a notable exception). But my favorite of their films, and perhaps the most affectionate portrayal of the filmmaker's spirit, was 1994's Ed Wood.

Ironically, Ed Wood may be the worst-performing of Burton and Depp's films, box office-wise. It is something of an aberration in Burton's career, as it depicts a true, if bizarre, story, is shot in black and white, and lacks many of Burton's signature elements. But when I first saw it when it was released I howled in the theater, and have loved it each time I've seen it since, the last time last night.

Edward D. Wood Jr. is generally credited as the world's worst film director, thanks to a book co-written by one-time film critic and present-day right-wing troglodyte Michael Medved, which bestowed him with that title and also anointed his magnum opus, Plan 9 From Outer Space, as the worst movie of all time. This made Wood famous, though he was already dead, and has given him legions of fans who appreciate his work, which is idiosyncratic and inspired, if at times incoherent and amazingly shoddy.

Burton's film, which stars Depp in the title role, begins the great man's story when he was a struggling and horrible playwright. He already had formed a coterie of loyal oddballs, including Bunny Breckenridge (Bill Murray), a homosexual longing for a sex change. His girlfriend (Sarah Jessica Parker), was, like Marilyn on The Munsters, shockingly normal. In a key moment, he meets faded monster-film star Bela Lugosi (Martin Landau in an Oscar-winning role) and befriends him, promising him a role in his movie, which at this point is a complete pipe dream.

Depp hears about a film in the works on sex-change recipient Christine Jorgensen, and pitches himself as director. This scene, with schlock producer Mike Starr, is brilliant, as the latter doesn't really care about the product, but already has presold the film to Alabama and Oklahoma, and has a poster. Depp ends up making a picture about his own cross-dressing (with a particular fetish for angora), Glen or Glenda.

This film is tabbed the "worst movie ever made" by a producer from Warners, but Depp is indefatigable, and hustles to get financing for his next film, which will be Bride of the Monster, starring Lugosi and the brutish but soft-spoken professional wrestler Tor Johnson (George "the Animal" Steele). The act that comprises the making of this film is scintillating cinema, as the motley crew work around skimpy budgets (they steal a giant prop octopus from a studio warehouse) and accommodate the backer's wish to have his dim-witted son play the lead role.

Finally, we see Depp make Plan 9, but not before Lugosi, a morphine addict, succumbs. The relationship between Depp and Landau gives this film an emotional backdrop that elevates this film above what it could have been. Indeed, Burton and his screenwriters (who deserve a great deal of credit--Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski) never mock Wood or Lugosi. To them, Wood is an artist as much as any other filmmaker, including Wood's hero, Orson Welles. In an inspired (if wholly fictional) scene, Wood runs into Welles at Russo and Frank's. Wood is in full drag, complete with angora, which doesn't phase Welles, who gives his young protege a few sage words of advice: "Visions are worth fighting for. Why spend your life making someone else's dreams?"

By now Wood's strange entourage would include the TV psychic Criswell (Jeffery Jones) and horror-movie host Vampira (Lisa Marie), who attend the premiere at the Pantages hero in Hollywood. The movie would go on to be proclaimed the worst ever made, but this film isn't playing critic, instead humanely allowing Wood to glory in the moment.

But there's so much more to Ed Wood. I loved little touches, like Murray watching a pro wrestling match with binoculars. Murray has many of the film's best lines, playing the part with a fey version of his usual performance. "Mexico (pronounced "may-he-co") was a nightmare," he sighs, talking about his failed attempt to get a sex change, or, discussing his wardrobe for Plan 9, Depp tells him, "You're the ruler of the galaxy! Show some taste!" On the similarities between a chiropractor hired to play Lugosi's double to the man himself, Murray says, in the back pew of a Baptist church, "Let us hear him call Karloff a cocksucker."

This is in response to Lugosi's tirade against his movie-monster colleague and rival: "Karloff did not deserve to smell my shit! That limey cocksucker can rot in Hell for all I care." I remember at the time that the Lugosi family insisted their father did not use such language, and had nothing against Karloff, but it sure works in the movie.

The film is also visually interesting. As stated, it doesn't look like many of Burton's films, but it perfectly fits the world of Ed Wood, from the miniatures used in the opening credits (Howard Shore's score, complete with Theremin, is spot-on) to the sets used for the studios, the seediness of Wood's apartment, and the Grand Guignol design of Lugosi's bungalow (which I stopped by and paid homage to on a trip to Los Angeles). The film luxuriates in darkness, as one would imagine, especially in Lugosi's house, which is lit like a Universal horror picture (cinematography is by Stefan Czapsky), but there are also scenes of abundant sunlight, an inevitability in L.A. In fact, perhaps the most arresting image from the film is Vampira, dressed to the nines in her Gothic outfit, walking down a sun-splashed alley holding a parasol.

Ed Wood was a singular talent--or non-talent--and this is the film he deserved. I think he would have liked it, as it is a valentine to the moviemakers, B or otherwise.