The movie takes place in an entirely artificial world, where a haunting gothic castle crouches on a mountaintop high above a storybook suburb, a goofy sitcom neighborhood where all of the houses are shades of pastels and all of the inhabitants seem to be emotional clones of the Jetsons. His story, told in a flashback, is a sad one. His face is a mass of scars, and he tends to shred everything he tries to pick up. The Avon lady isn't fazed. The movie then develops into a series of situations that seem inspired by silent comedy, as when Edward tries to pick up a pea.
Successful satire has to have a place to stand, and a target to aim at.
Even if he lived in a more hospitable world, however, it is hard to tell what satirical comment Edward would have to make, because the movie makes an abrupt switch in his character about two-thirds of the way through. Until then he's been a gentle, goofy soul, a quixotic outsider. Then Burton and his writer, Caroline Thompson, go on autopilot and paste in a standard Hollywood ending. You know what that is. The hero and the villain meet, there is a deadly confrontation, and no prizes for guessing who wins.