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In theory this should have been a slam-dunk; a perfect combination of auteur and material. And for much of the running time is a fun excursion into Wonderland until the final twenty minutes or so takes us on a strange detour. While not the best literary adaptation in Burtonâs repertoire, nor is it his best film, it is an enjoyable, utterly charming, and visually stunning film for much of the running time.
The story, which has been told so many times that youâll probably feel like youâve read the book a half-dozen times even if you havenât read itâŚever, concerns a young girlâs journey into adolescence, and, eventually, adulthood. She is smart, logical, questions the rules yet tries to enforce them, and she is prone to flights of wild imagination. That is the Alice of both the film and the novel. But here is where her character differs: no longer is she the plucky girl of seven-and-a-half who envisions Wonderland as a beautiful topsy-turvy nonsensical fever dream, but a young woman of nineteen who is trying to reinforce, to rediscovery her purpose and sense of self-worth.
It works really well. The Alice tales were never really, entirely, for children. They taught no lessons, they had no real logic, but they could inspire the imagination to take flight. And John Tennielâs drawings were quirky, mordantly witty, and frightening all at the same time. I loved it as a child, but I cherish the story more as an adult. The story is strong enough to work as a parable for reclaiming your strength and sense of wonder in your inner child to propel you into adulthood, to reclaim your power and freedom to live without fear.
Burton visually captures Carrollâs words and Tennielâs illustrations and brings his own mad-cap, darkly quirky vision to it all. It makes logical sense that Alice has pallor this side of death, Burton loves to make people as close to grey as possible. That her eyes appear sunken in is from Tennielâs drawings. The Bette Davis-esque styling of the Red Queen (a combination of the Queen of Hearts and the chess piece from Looking Glass) is Burton, but her bulbous head is Tenniel. Each characterâs design meets somewhere in the middle of these two different yet similar aesthetics. I loved to just immerse myself in the world that was unfolding in front of me. It was how I had always pictured Wonderland in my head. (The Mad Hatter is close to a visual depiction of what I always say in my head, but lets not talk much about Johnny Depp's performance.)
So why does it have to end in such a silly little action scene?
The Joan of Arc armor Alice wears is visually stunning, and a close match-up to the armor that the (male) knight wears in the poem. And the Jabberwock, a scary and menacing sight, is a literal interpretation of the illustration provided in Through the Looking Glass. (Minus the vest, of course.) Watching the chess pieces square off against the card pieces was cute enough. So was seeing fellow âJabberwockyâ mythological creatures the Bandersnatch, which looks like what would happen if a bulldog mated with a prehistoric bear, and the Jubjub bird, which has a strong resemble to a Phorusrhacos. But must it end in such a busy way? Was Disney worried that little ones wouldnât have held their attention if the movie didnât feature a prominent battle scene? Itâs possible. We have been conditioned within the last few years to expect every movie to feature grand battles and huge explosions. We know the battle scene is coming as we've been warned about it from the beginning, but it's so lifeless and dull in comparison to the quieter scenes like Anne Hathaway's White Queen making a potion, or the reunion tea party with a tweaked out March Hare and violent, manic Dormouse.Â
But the battle scene is not the only problem. The futterwaken, or the silly little dance that the Mad Hatter does, sounds like a dirty term and looks like a dance that has been beamed in from a different film. It doesnât fit the tone of a film which earlier had Alice making her way through a moat of served heads to get to the Red Queenâs castle. And that is why this version of Aliceâs Adventures in Wonderland isnât the definitive one that it could have been. After perfectly capturing the tone, essence, and spirit of Daniel Wallace's paternal conflict in Big Fish and Roald Dahl's wicked fairy tale world in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Burton, probably because of decisions by Disney, made some odd choices for this film. Itâs still utterly charming and a fun time, visually stunning, and a decent expansion of the characters and story, but not as great as it could have or should have been.
