It’s been almost one month since Tim Burton became dead to me. For ten years I was a devoted follower of his work despite admonitions from friends and family that his movies were “weird.” There are more than enough reviews of Alice in Wonderland floating around the internet so all I will say is I was shocked that Alice is what Burton made with $200 million and no one seriously questioning him or trying to rein in his creativity. Honestly, had it been any other director, I would say it was an okay film; from Burton, it was not okay.

Of course, after the wildly successful opening of Alice in Wonderland, rumors began flying about what Burton’s next project would be, the most pervasive rumor being that he was lined up to direct Maleficent, a live action film about the bad fairy in in the Disney classic, Sleeping Beauty. This rumor took root quickly because people have always been keen to label anything even vaguely gothic or darkly whimsical as Burton material, but it seemed to me extremely unlikely. Burton may no longer be my beloved director of dark and funny fairy tales but surely he had not fallen so far as to helm another of Disney’s schemes to squeeze every last penny out of their classic properties—and one that would so obviously be a caricature of his own aesthetic?

The importance of Tim Burton’s sense of humor when dealing with his antiheroes is consistently underestimated—Large Marge, Edward covered in Avon products, little children screaming their heads off as their Christmas presents begin to attack (you have to admit, those scenes are pretty hilarious in Nightmare). Burton’s humor, which consists largely of sight gags and one-liners, gives his characters dimension and humanity that all the eyeliner, striped clothing, and rattiest hair in the world could not achieve. His humor gives his work heart. It’s no mistake that Burton’s best film, Ed Wood, employs none of Burton’s visual trademarks (clichés, if we’re being cynical). It’s also probably his funniest film, though Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure is a pretty close second. Alice had very little of Burton’s humor; the jokes that were there were obvious, even cheap—the “Fudderwacken” was embarrassing. I don’t see how Maleficent could benefit from Burton’s sight gags and one liners. I don’t see how it could be funny without being camp, and quite frankly I don’t see how it can steer clear of being simply an imitation of Wicked. I don’t think the Disney company has a problem with reducing a film that was one of Walt Disney’s great artistic triumphs to camp, but I hope Burton does—I hope he finds it uninteresting. The only thing Maleficent could really benefit from that Burton has to offer is dark eye makeup and a color palate that’s heavy on black—all the pretty images and none of the heart.

Surely Mr. Burton knows better. This week’s Tim Burton Google Alert (yes, I have a Tim Burton Google Alert… old habits) included articles from The Guardian and The Telegraph about Tim Burton’s attachment to Maleficent. The Telegraph claimed Burton was “dancing around the project.” Other films Burton wasn’t sure about making? Planet of the Apes and Alice in Wonderland.

Did Burton sign some sort of Faustian contract with Disney, or did he take a few too many sips of the Kool-Aid? I had always anticipated that the end would be quick and quiet, that I would simply walk away from a new Burton film and know the spark was gone. He would still make movies, and I would still go see them, but it would never be like it was. Now I think I may have been wrong. Perhaps the darkest parts of Tim Burton’s career are yet to come.