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It’s a slippery and complex argument, which implies it can be utilized in a few alternative ways to artworks by predatory creators. On the one hand, we may argue that if the creator is lifeless, then so is the actor, and whatever Depp could or might not have done in his personal life has nothing to do along with his efficiency in Edward Scissorhands. That argument isn’t too far off from the way the New Critics would have thought concerning the film. The most famous reason of all was that the writer is dead, as Roland Barthes declared in 1967. Every time readers encounter a text, they remake it anew — and in a means the author has no management over — which implies the text has no steady, definitive, last interpretation. For some of the postmodernists, the artist wasn’t just separate from the art. If I have been to lean on New Criticism in coping with Edward Scissorhands, I may say, very simply, that every one that matters is the things that the film makes me feel, and any concepts I actually have about Depp separately from the movie are irrelevant.
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