Tim Burton on Why the ‘Batman’ Films Have Changed and How ‘Beetlejuice Beetlejuice’ Saved Him From Retirement After ‘Dumbo’: ‘That Could Have Been It’

Of the many honors and recognitions he’s received over his more than 40-year career, a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame is not one that Tim Burton ever expected. But his reaction to the news perfectly matches the playful, macabre sensibility that has driven his 20 films to almost $4.5 billion in worldwide box office receipts and made a household name out of a filmmaker who has constantly been perceived as an outsider.

“I remember, I first thought they were gravestones before I knew what they were,” Burton tells Variety. “I grew up in California where it’s all flat tombstones, so that’s why I mistook it for those. But I realized fairly early on that Desi Arnaz and John Wayne were not buried underneath [Hollywood Boulevard].”

With films like “Sleepy Hollow,” “Corpse Bride,” Dark Shadows” and “Frankenweenie” under his belt, the director knows a thing or two about the living and the dead. Actor Michael Keaton says that their introduction on “Beetlejuice” immediately underscored not only Burton’s idiosyncratic personality but their creative compatibility. “It wasn’t an easy idea to convey, but his passion and persistence were clear,” Keaton remembers. “That creative process, guided by Tim’s vision, was one of the most fun and fulfilling experiences I’ve ever had. He is a visionary who sees the world in a way that’s hard to explain, but brilliant when it all comes together.”

As they reunite for the follow-up “Beetlejuice Beetlejuice,” Keaton suggests that Burton’s singular perspective as a storyteller is what earned him a place in the Hollywood firmament. “It’s well-deserved recognition of Tim’s unique artistic vision and his contributions to the industry,” he says.

“When he chose me as Batman, despite the doubts others had, it showed his commitment to his vision — that’s just one example of his integrity as an artist,” he observes. “Receiving a star is a testament to the influence he’s had on cinema and the creativity he’s brought to the screen.”

Ahead of the Sept. 3 Walk of Fame ceremony, Burton spoke with Variety about his journey as a filmmaker and storyteller, from “Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure” to “Beetlejuice Beetlejuice” and beyond.

When you started making films, did you self-consciously feel like an outsider?

I grew up in a strange time at Disney where I was a terrible animator but I got to draw different things, and so I got to find my way in a very bizarre way. When I got to do my first movie, I’d done a couple of short films, but I didn’t know anything, so I didn’t know how to be afraid of anything.

How naturally did your aesthetic emerge as a filmmaker?

Everything was something personal. Even things that weren’t developed by me, always I found something personal in it. That’s the only reason I could do anything.

“Batman” was a remarkable sea change for superhero movies. How much were your natural impulses on that challenged by studio pressures?

I was lucky because at that time, the word “franchise” didn’t exist. So “Batman” felt slightly experimental at the time. … It deviated from what the perception [of a superhero movie] might be. So you didn’t hear that kind of studio feedback, and being in England, it was even further removed. We really just got to focus on the film and not really think about those things that now they think about even before you do it.

You have always possessed this wonderful ability to combine ideas that felt risky, but in their execution never felt unsafe.

I never felt like I was misusing company funds with studios, if you know what I mean. But it also just felt kind of pure because I wasn’t really a proper filmmaker, so I just did things that I felt was me. It felt like that’s why they wanted me. It’s always been a funny struggle, this sort of thing where they want you but they don’t want you. But at the beginning, I don’t think, and still to this day to some extent, they don’t really know what I’m doing, so they can’t really comment on it.

“Batman Returns” was the first film where you were totally free from budget or studio interference. How much did you actively want to push the envelope? How much were its idiosyncrasies an organic expression of your creativity?

It was the latter for me. I wasn’t really interested in doing a sequel, but I liked Penguin and Catwoman so I got reenergized by the whole thing. And that was when we started hearing the word franchise and where the studio started going, “What’s the black stuff coming out of the Penguin’s mouth?” It was the first time the cold wind of that kind of thing came upon me.

Your unmade “Superman” adaptation starring Nicolas Cage has reached mythical status. What lessons from those projects have you been able to apply to the ones you actually got made?

Everything is a surprise, because there’s always this “Jason and the Argonauts”-style journey that everyone goes through to get a movie made. I’ve worked on a couple movies that didn’t happen after working for years on them, and those are quite traumatic. I just try to focus on things that I feel strongly about and get rid of all the noise surrounding them.

At a time when Sam Raimi and others are coming back to the genre, could you be persuaded to take on a superhero movie again?

At the moment, I would say no. Like I said, I come at things from different points of view, so I would never say never to anything. But, at the moment, it’s not something I’d be interested in.

“Ed Wood” felt like a perfect harmony of the subject matter and filmmaker. Though it’s a comedy, did you consider that your first more serious film?

I felt a lot of connection with the character, of his passion as an artist, where you think you’re making “Star Wars” but you’re making “Plan 9 From Outer Space” — that razor’s edge of enthusiasm versus reality. And his relationship with Bela Lugosi reminded me of the feeling I remember having with Vincent Price. So there were lots of elements to it that felt — well, not autobiographical. But I connected to very deeply with.

You cultivated a pretty strong ensemble of collaborators early in your career to work with multiple times. How easy has it been to identify people with whom you share a creative affinity?

I love working with people over again and showing different sides of themselves. And even people I’ve only worked with once, there were lots of great experiences so I feel pretty blessed. The only one that ever wanted to beat me up was Jack Palance on “Batman.”

I feel like he wanted to beat up a lot of people.

I was new, I was scared, I didn’t always know what to do, so I was nervous. But luckily, it worked out okay.

“Batman Returns,” “Ed Wood” and “Mars Attacks” all deconstruct Hollywood conventions. Was that an idea you were actively contemplating at that time?

Or, you could actually say after “Ed Wood,” I became Ed Wood. I was at a strange place at the time — about everything. It was very contradictory in America. And it was at a strange time where we actually had tanks parked out in front of the Capitol building; we got to do things that you can’t do anymore in filmmaking. So for me, it was a great experience. Like I said, becoming Ed Wood is not so bad after all.

Aside from Ed Wood, when you started your career, were there people on the margins of the film industry you immediately identified with?

A lot of people, but Ray Harryhausen. Ever since I was a child, he inspired me. It was a different type of animation and it always had an emotional quality to it. So I always recognized him as a real artist and somebody who was a definite inspiration.

“Sleepy Hollow” was a landmark marriage between your sensibility and material that did not originate with you. Was there ever a degree ever of calculation with any of those choices, like “Sweeney Todd” or “Alice in Wonderland?”

No, not at all. “Sweeney Todd,” I just remember seeing it on stage and saying, “that’s the only musical I’ve ever seen that I really liked,” and felt the horror movie emotions of it. And even though it’s Stephen Sondheim, I’ve always treated everything like it’s my own thing.

“Big Fish” has this lovely maturity. Were you trying to exercise a muscle with that film that you perhaps hadn’t before?

My father recently passed a year or so before that. I didn’t have that close of a relationship with him, but it really hit me strongly and I read that fairly soon after that event. I know for a fact that if I got that movie earlier, I don’t think I would have made it. There’s a certain thing where even if you don’t feel you’re maturing, you go through different life experiences and so you have more knowledge about things, and those things can shape you and inform your artistic choices.

At what point did you recognize that “Burtonesque” was a style that people sought?

When you said that, I get this chill. There’s really like an “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” vibe to it. Because I never really think of myself in that way. That’s why I’m like a vampire: I have no mirrors in the house. No, that’s not true. (Laughs) I don’t see myself in those terms, but I think to some people it’s a compliment and to others it’s a diminishment. So it depends on the person who’s saying it and why.

Whether it’s a compliment or a diminishment, if a studio is coming to you saying, “We want that Burton magic,” do you ever want to subvert that?

Well, as I get older, when they say we want that, I go, “oh, really?” Because I’ve been through a history where they say they want it, but then maybe they don’t really want it. And that’s a funny thing to experience through life. But whatever — now I’m just focusing on the things that I want to do and feel passionate about, and it’s a good place to be.

Disney, the place that you started as an animator, has often become a home for film projects throughout your career. I read a quote that indicated that you didn’t think that you could or would be able to work with Disney again.

I’ve been at Disney on and off. During my first time there as an animator and designer, it went through maybe three different regimes even at that point. Each regime comes in with its own thing, so it’s almost like you’re dealing with a different studio each time. But I remember I had a desk looking out my window from animation: I could see the hospital where I was born and then I could see Forest Lawn, the cemetery where my parents were buried. It felt like this weird Bermuda Triangle that started very long ago. And then all my ups and downs with it — getting my wisdom teeth out and bleeding in the hallways of Disney and drawing foxes badly to all the different movies that I’ve done with them. Now, I just feel like a teenager where it’s time to leave home.

How much is that perception about Disney indicative of your view of the larger industry?

Going back to the ’80s, you had the animation building that was all designed for artists. By 1986, I was the last artist in there because all the artists were kicked out and put in a warehouse in Glendale and it was all then overtaken by the execs. I saw this transition of things a long time ago. And now, it’s bigger franchises, less little things. I don’t like it but it is what it is.

How has your experience been revisiting the world of “Beetlejuice”?

It’s not like “Big Fish,” but I don’t think I could have done this earlier because, first of all, I had no idea to do a sequel — again, this is before the time where those things were talked about. But to revisit it now was nice, because Lydia was a character that I always felt strongly about. What happens to people 35 years later? Where do they go? What’s their journey? And what happened to the Deetz family? This feeling about it was quite simple for me and emotional. That became the anchor of where it goes from there. When you go from being a cool teenager to an adult, what journey do you take? And then with all these people I love working with — Michael Keaton and Catherine O’Hara and Winona Ryder — it was just very strange but beautiful. And with the new cast, it felt emotional but it also felt new. And I didn’t watch the original again, mostly because I never knew why it was successful to begin with. So I just treated it as something that I could not think about anything more than that. Just dive in and do it quickly — like we did in the past.

The five years between “Dumbo” and “Beetlejuice Beetlejuice” might mark the longest time you’ve gone between making films.

It felt like there was a change around the time of COVID where everything was just in flux. And so, rather than get caught up in that, I just worked on my own feelings and things. Then “Wednesday” came along. That reconnected me to making things. We went off to Romania and it felt like it was a creative health camp. It went so well.

How much did that series rekindle your creativity? How eager are you to keep working?

Honestly, after “Dumbo,” I really didn’t know. I thought that could have been it, really. I could have retired, or become… well, I wouldn’t have become an animator again, that’s over. (Laughs) But this did reenergize me. Oftentimes, when you get into Hollywood, you try to be responsible to what you’re doing with the budget and everything else but sometimes you might lose yourself a little bit. This reinforced the feeling for me that it’s important that I do what I want to do, because then everybody will benefit.

Are people knocking on your door?

I’m far away in a land where there’s no people around, so no one knocks on my door. But I’ve been through enough of this before. I remember “Batman” wasn’t really given the green light until after “Beetlejuice” came out. So, much as they say “we love you,” we’ll see how much they love you later on.