3 stars. Rated PG, for fantasy peril
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 5.27.16
This film conclusively
demonstrates that it’s extremely difficult — if not impossible — to replicate
Tim Burton’s signature brand of whimsy.
It’s not merely a matter of
Burton’s directorial finesse; he’s also a shrewd judge of source material, and
how it should be shaped. Either he carefully selects equally talented
screenwriters, or he’s actively involved in how a script reaches its final
draft; either way, the result — time and again — is weirdly droll, oddly
endearing and invariably, if improbably, entertaining.
And — here’s the important part —
meticulously structured, and consistent within its own fantasy universe.
None of which can be said about Alice Through the Looking Glass. Linda
Woolverton’s script is a mess; her slapdash plot begs, borrows and steals from
sources as varied as H.G. Wells, Frozen
and the Back to the Future trilogy.
James Bobin’s direction is
uninspired and lifeless. Somebody apparently thought he’d be right for the job,
on the basis of his having helmed the two most recent Muppets movies. At the risk of stating the obvious, human
characters need more directorial guidance than Muppets, who get most of their
personality from their unseen “muppeteers.” Alice (Mia Wasikowska) and her
various co-stars get very little guidance here.
Granted, this sequel to Burton’s Alice in Wonderland looks equally
fabulous. Dan Hennah’s production design is opulent, imaginative and richly
colorful: no surprise, as he’s a veteran of all three Hobbit chapters. Oscar-winning costume designer Colleen Atwood is a
carryover from the first Alice, and
her efforts here are equally creative, often amusing and sometimes flat-out
beautiful; Alice’s kimono-style outfit is particularly fetching.
And, yes, the special effects are
excellent, if overused ... and that’s part of the problem. As just one example,
Bobin wastes an awful lot of screen footage with repeated sequences of Alice
sailing through the “oceans of time,” and repetition does not make such
journeys more interesting. Quite the opposite.
To make matters even worse, the
film was subjected to after-the-fact 3D effects. Aside from being superfluous,
the result — as often is the case with “fake 3D” — mutes colors and darkens the
final product: most noticeable during Alice’s encounter in the sinister Castle
of Time.
Hennah must be frustrated, having
worked so hard on his production design, when we’re unable to fully appreciate
his efforts.
As for the story...
Bobin and Woolverton stumble immediately,
with a prologue intended to explain Alice’s lengthy absence from Wonderland,
since the previous film: She has been in the real world, captaining one of her
father’s merchant ships during what turned into an extremely lengthy sea
voyage. This unwieldy sequence feels as if it wandered in from the next chapter
of Pirates of the Caribbean, and the
notion of 19th century sea dogs cheerfully taking orders from a young woman
stretches credibility way past the
breaking point.
Events back home have gone
astray, with Alice’s mother (Lindsay Duncan) at the financial mercy of the
smarmy Hamish (Leo Bill), jilted by Alice in the previous film. Frustrated
beyond measure, Alice locks herself in an upstairs study and discovers that the
large portrait mirror on one wall is a portal; she therefore abandons her
mother (!) and returns to the realm where she had so many exciting — and
dangerous — adventures.
Rather confusingly, this is
Underland, rather than Wonderland. Not sure why, and it definitely doesn’t
spring from Lewis Carroll.
All of Alice’s friends are
present, save one; the merry, mischievous Mad Hatter (Johnny Depp) has lost his
“muchness,” and is pining away in his hat-shaped abode. He has fixated on the
notion that his parents and siblings, believed to have been killed long ago by
the ferocious Jabberwocky, actually are alive ... somewhere. He begs Alice to
find them, which she initially insists is impossible (something Alice never would say, as we’ve been reminded
during the pirate prologue).
The solution to this mystery
involves journeying into the past, by “borrowing” the chronosphere that powers
time itself, and can be found within the castle citadel overseen by Time (Sacha
Baron Cohen). But this is an extremely dangerous proposition, cautions Mirana,
the White Queen (Anne Hathaway); one must never meet one’s younger self, lest
time be brought to a dead stop, destroying the entire universe.
Alice nonetheless accepts the
challenge.
Her initial encounter with Time
is quite entertaining. Cohen is deliciously imperious, albeit given to caustic
quips, and his mechanical clockwork minions are adorable. Time is a great
sort-of-villain — his pun-laden visit to the Mad Hatter and March Hare’s
continuous tea party is hilarious — but, sadly, his role diminishes as the
story proceeds. That’s a sad waste of Cohen’s talent, and the film’s third act
sags without his vibrant presence.
Alice eventually makes numerous
time-hops, journeying ever further into Underland’s past. This affords endearing
glimpses of her wacky friends: the Mad Hatter’s childhood self (Louis Ashbourne
Serkis), and — most particularly — little Tweedledee and Tweedledum (both
played by Matt Lucas).
At this point, though,
Woolverton’s script errs seriously, with a retcon of Mirana and the shrieking,
self-absorbed Queen of Hearts (Helena Bonham Carter): a shameless lift from Wicked and/or Frozen. Now introduced as mildly antagonistic sister princesses, we
learn how young Mirana (Amelia Crouch) was indirectly responsible for the
incident that gave young Iracebeth (Leilah de Meza) her huge head, which in
turn made her grow up to become a vengeful shrew.
The goal, apparently, was to
soften our opinion of the adult Iracebeth: a glaring mistake. The Queen of
Hearts ceases to be interesting, or entertaining, once we glimpse her newly
revealed “fragility.”
This back-story also sours our
opinion of the adult Mirana, who was so virtuous and noble in the first film.
But that’s par for the course in this sequel, where poor Hathaway does little
but flutter her hands from one scene to the next.
Woolverton’s worst offense,
though, is transforming Alice into a feeble buffoon who repeatedly causes more
harm than good. She’s clumsy, careless and clueless (which is utterly at odds
with the resourceful Alice in the pirate prologue).
The worst example comes when
Alice, having determined that she must be at a particular spot at a specific
time, in order to prevent an incident that triggered a chain of future events
with lamentable consequences, allows herself to be distracted and led away from the site in question.
That’s just nuts.
The Alice in Burton’s film often
was astonished by all manner of Wonderland strangeness, but she confronted each
challenge with courage, resourcefulness and intelligence, up to her climactic
battle with the Jabberwocky. This sequel’s Alice is exactly the opposite:
frequently helpless and hapless, stumbling from one incident to the next, unable
to take control.
In short, she’s a poor excuse for
a heroine; she’s also the least interesting character in this tapestry. Both
are fatal flaws, in a story of this nature. No surprise, then, that Wasikowska
hasn’t the faintest idea how to play the part this time around.
Carter’s waspish Queen of Hearts
is wickedly amusing, at least initially; Carter’s temper tantrums and nasty
wisecracks are delightful. It’s also nice to hear Stephen Fry, Michael Sheen
and Alan Rickman once again voicing, respectively, the Cheshire Cat, the White
Rabbit and Absolem (the blue caterpillar/butterfly). This is, alas, the very
last time we’ll hear the late Rickman’s rich, distinctive voice.
Danny Elfman reprises the scoring
duties, but even his work is uninspired; he relies too heavily on the first
film’s primary “Alice Theme,” adding little in the way of fresh character
melodies.
I’ve no idea why Burton
restricted himself to co-producing this sequel, but his directorial absence is
catastrophic. This new film feels driven solely by commerce — the first Alice having grossed $334 million in the
States alone — and not at all by artistic considerations. The result, as often
has been the case with ill-advised sequels, is deeply disappointing.
Which is pretty ironic, given
that Carroll provided a ready template, if all concerned had merely followed
it.
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