Well, I loved it!

Rating: 9/10 (9 June 2012)

A swift, atmospheric prologue opens this immersive film version of the identically named 70s television series, where the legacy of the influential English Collins family is briefly introduced, and our impossibly likable hero Barnabas (Johnny Depp) is soon pushed to the forefront as the one who is to take up their great industrial and social mantle connected with their life-giving fishing company in America, their new place of settlement. Despite his noble intentions, his downfall begins with an unfortunate momentary fling with a pretty servant girl, Angelique (Eva Green) who he quickly draws away from when she hungrily takes the affair too seriously and starts demanding passionate declarations of love from him. The delicate Josette (promising newcomer Bella Heathcote) is his true love, but he remarks that of all lusty servant girls he had run afoul with a ferocious witch, who covertly kills her and his parents and imprisons him as a vampire in a shackled coffin as eternal punishment.
Although the romance is simplistically convincing, screenwriter Seth Grahame-Smith knowingly glosses over this familiar narrative element and instead devotes his time to the twisted obsessive yet hate-filled sexual relationship between the hero and villain, and various symbols of superficiality, murder, betrayal, honour, monstrosity and oppression. As John August's story continues along an equally familiar route, in which Barnabas is inadvertently freed by construction work two centuries later, and must confront the miserable wreckage of the Collins' glorious mansion, family and business, these elements lift it beyond the usual fish-out-of-water comedy and give it raw significance.
Pleasingly to all of his fans, the latest feature from acclaimed experimentally and uncommonly imaginative – or "weird" to slothful critics – director Tim Burton is a very successful marriage of his closely held macabre, supernatural storytelling with the more widely popular character comedy genre. Much of the humour is blackened and maintains our sympathy with the loveably bumbling, old-fashioned Barnabas when his wretched curse compels him to devour innocent victims, and he resorts to hypnosis in his progress in assisting his struggling modern relations and warding off the persistent Angelique, who now heads a rival fishing company and continues to torpedo the Collins family in frustration.
Green is sensationally sinister and succulent as the complex femme fatale, and Depp delivers another indescribably perfect unique characterisation. I've purposely omitted details of the rest of the ensemble, because their introductions are much more gradual and imbedded into the narrative than those met during the speedy expositional opening, so enjoy the surprises in store. Among them are a few of Burton's talented group of old friends. Michelle Pfeiffer relishes another fantastical characterisation and makes a welcome return after her stunning turn as Catwoman in Batman Returns (1992). There's always room for a cameo from horror legend Christopher Lee, and he joins his good friend for the sixth time (he's provided the voice of his old, beloved Dracula for Frankenweenie, along with old hands Martin Landau, Catherine O'Hara and Winona Ryder, which opens later this year). Burton's remarkably skilled wife, Helena Bonham Carter, joyfully joins her husband for a seventh time, even though her performance here might not be as effective as Depp's, as his Mad Hatter was against her Red Queen in Burton's last feature Alice in Wonderland (2010), her presence is still an asset to the picture, and fans will surely share in some inside jokes between her and the ultimate Burton regular, now on his eighth collaboration, after the quirky pair of muses co-star together for the fifth time. Combing through the credits, one can spot numerous other familiar faces in other departments, most notably his zany maestro Danny Elfman.
Dark Shadows is one of those rare mainstream films that practise their own morals. It never tries to command the feelings of the audience, a characteristic of its villain that it righteously condemns; any sadness is felt only in moments of genuine pathos, and the audience may choose which characters they rejoice with. Some, if desired, may simply and easily enjoy the slick farce at a comfortable distance, for, despite its budget, it is, at its core, a humbly brilliant film.