Review of Alice

Alice (1988)
9/10
It will change forever the way you see Wonderland
13 November 2012
First off, let's get something out of the way: this is not the kind of film designed to appeal to kids that are Alice's age (6 or 7?). Svankmajer's Alice pairs best with a preemptive shot of adolescence--and maybe even a booster shot some years down the road. The kind of nightmarish imagery displayed here begs some fortification on the part of the viewer.

The condition of Alice's home situation suggests strongly that she is a lonely child quite often. There is an air of neglect about her room and all the objects in it; Alice herself isn't the squeaky-clean, outspoken child so often interpreted from the book. Her toys look old and tattered, as if from a rummage sale. There is a layer of smudge/filth covering nearly every surface. Left to herself, it is no wonder she must develop an unusually active imagination in order to brighten her circumstances.

This re-imagining of Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland is whimsical and morbid in equal measure. The genius of the director's vision lies in the way he faithfully follows the source material's plot, while at the same time turning our Disney-inspired, preconceived notion of this tale on its ear. You see the setting is actually a dilapidated old house -- bare wood floors host rooms devoid of decoration, often containing a single naked bulb as the light source and a lone writing desk of unknown purpose. M.C. Escher could have had a hand in designing this structure, the way that windows and doors open unexpectedly into other spaces, staircases and dumb waiters lead downward into what should be lower levels but aren't. The animal characters are stop-motion compositions of bare animal bones and household items; skulls wrongly attached to other animal skeletons and bodies, given rolling glass eyes to add facial expression of sorts and "life"likeness. Everything is scuffed, dirty, worn, and badly in need of some comforting homeyness.

Alice (an impossibly cute kid, she's the only thing of beauty in this "Wonderland")follows the white rabbit (a stuffed and mounted specimen which comes to life and pulls its feet from the display case by yanking the nails out first) from one room to the next on her adventure. She's not a very emotive Alice, reacting blankly to all the bizarreness; once or twice there is a closeup of her widening eyes. It's almost as if she's a doll. We see her lips mouthing the phrases "Said the White Rabbit", "Demanded the Mad Hatter", etc. throughout the narrative, which is our broadest hint that this is all Alice's show--her mind at play within the environment she knows well. It's also a distracting trope which I feel the film would be better off without.

This is a Wonderland of cruelty and discomfort, where grime and neglect rule. Yet for all that, Alice retains her sense of pluck and curiosity. Alice doesn't have the verbal self-confidence I remember from the book, but she fights back against the weird forces of this dreamlike world and never gives up in trying to get that white rabbit to listen to her. Alice is redeemed by her strong spirit. You get the impression that she was born to rise above her sad circumstances in life -- and that makes her a hero worth cheering on.

At the end of the film, I realized that I loved it. The stop motion skeleton animals were one of the many things about this adaptation that showed true originality. Director Svankmajer has crafted a wonderful thing and in this movie he really shows an understanding of a child's viewpoint. Watching it was a lot like remembering my own (much less morbid) childhood playtime. I can recommend this gem to anybody with a strong stomach and an appreciation for the unusual.
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