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i feel like watching edward scissorhands again. up to now it's still one of my fave shows. something just twanged in me seeing how he has the power to hurt with such ease, yet he's still so beautifully vulnerable. how his intentions were all good, but due to the baseness of men all his kindness and sincerity were met with hostility and distrust. and the way the people of the town were portrayed - perfect little people in perfect little houses with perfect little gardens. but so quick to think the worst of anything different. ignorant, maybe, but it was so painful to watch how easily they turned against him.
the image still sticks in my head: looking at the pair of synthetic hands that could be his, with such longing and yearning, just to be a complete person, and watching before his very eyes as the items which held so much hope were sliced up by his own blades. and he was condemned just like that. but was he more of a complete person than the rest were? the trust he had in every one of them was heart-wrenching, precisely because this trust was made use of.
the ending of the show was exceptionally glorious, and incredibly pretty, yet tinged with a wistful sadness, and i felt so much for him, his gentle awkwardness, his sweet nature and most of all his helplessness in the face of the cruelty of men.
tim burton really has my r-e-s-p-e-c-t. and so does johnny depp.
[Listening to: light in your eyes by blessid union of souls]