Well, I can only assume that someone sat down to write a film saying “I know what we’ll do – we’ll take the way Alasdair wishes the world worked, and we’ll map it onto a life that’s half his childhood fantasies, and half his more outrageously sappy teenage hopes and dreams, and set the whole thing in a slightly brighter version of his internal American South.”
Fucking loved it. I’ll be surprised if I see a more charming film this year, and it’s a strong early contender for my favourite of the year, as well. The world doesn’t quite work like that, but I’ve always loved the idea of a personal mythology, of stories from one’s past that are entertaining in and of themselves – the sort of story you find other people passing on saying “I knew this guy/girl who…” They don’t tend to be tall tales on the scale that’s presented in Big Fish, but still, the film captures that spirit of personal narrative beautifully. I’ll have to seek out the book.