Well, At Least There's Music

*I had to write a movie review for my Lewis Carroll class with Malynne. She said we could be as snarky as we want. Enjoy!

Hermeneutics is like crack cocaine: once you start interpreting, you can't stop and the weirder you become. Many a beloved book has been sacrificed to this fickle god, loved before inspection, cast aside upon too much reflection. Was that a Freudian reference? What would Lacan think? According to Nietzche . . . Under a Marxian reading . . . Once you open that Pandora's box of Interpretation sex, booze, Jesus, semiotics, Marxist tendencies, and Freudian slips sprout like wild mushrooms, only much less palatable.

When it comes to making movies, translating the written word into movies: bright shining pictures, talking, moving symbolism, there tends to be something lacking. The witty turn of phrase, the ingenious pun, precise dialogue, breath-taking descriptives, a sweeping scope of narrative all stand side. In their place, we get new fandangled technology, computer animation, and synthetic music.

This means, for me, avoiding movie remakes of books I actually like; avoiding like the plague. (I mean, gawd, did you even see a preview for the abomination that was "Troy"? puh-leeze.) I imagine that for every cherished title, there's an author somewhere who's missing a chunk of their soul, lamenting they day they were seduced by the promise of fat royalty checks. (I ignore the fact that this teeth gnashing is probably happening over a mojito, in the Caribbean due to said checks, but hey, what do you do?) I get a little rush of karma-boosting righteousness as I say to myself, "I am above your shallow adaptations. I will not be lead astray by skin and special effects. To my books, I'll stay true," as I clutch Durkheim to my breast.

Yet, some books ask for it. Beg for it. Wake you up in the middle of the night, asking to be shoddily envisioned, lacklusterly displayed, dispassionately acted, a box office smash. And sadly, "Alice in Wonderland" is one such book.

Recently, I watched a version of Alice that seemed to lack this artistic, hermeneutic drive. Made in the early 90's, it seems to suffer from the opposite problem as it lacks any real interpretive drive. Instead of a turmoil of interpretation, open for discussion, its message is clear:

Growing up is lame. It involves doing lots of crack and becoming a mean, nasty adult, but at least you get to sing songs. Oooh pretty lights!

To make this message entirely clear, this movie throws the original text aside preferring to ad lib then expose their viewers to Carroll’s’ smashing wit, and nonsensical brilliance. Of course, everyone knows that popular culture isn’t supposed to be edifying in any way at all. Silly academics. To begin, an original opening scene was created, which goes a little something like this:
“I wish I was a grown-up.”
“But you’re not so you can’t have tea.”
“Oh, that’s sad.”
“I’m a cruel hearted adult, and don’t really care. Why don’t you go outside?”

Having tea is the ultimate goal of being an adult? The true signs of maturity reside in crumpets and herbal brews? I think not.

Other pretty pointless deviations: Alice falls into a creek the color of feces, not a river of tears. The caucus race doesn’t really happen so much as everyone run around freaking out for no stated purpose. And I’m sure many many more. But, as that’s as far as I’ve gotten in the book. .

Besides the heavy-handed moral, there are songs. Songs of joy? No, no. Remember: adults are not nice, and are mean to children for absolutely no reason and every song serves to shore up this moral. The mouse sings a saucy rap song about hating dogs, the malice clear in every word. Sammy Davis, Jr. sings a song, and does a little dance after hollering at Alice, dressed in lederhosen for no reason whatsoever. Then there’s the hatred song, everyone’s favorite. Then the sad treacle song. (Here’s an interpretation in an otherwise vacuous landscape for hermeneutics: Treacle = cocaine.) Don’t forget Alice’s classic reflective number, “Why is Everyone Crazy?” and who could forget the dictatorship and tyranny song that the Duchess sings?

Let’s go back to talking about drugs. To make this reference abundantly clear, there are the tweaked out birds. Now, it may be that since it was the early 90’s it’s merely a coincidence that all the actors were so very high. Or maybe it was one of the three driven artistic decisions made in the movie. But either way, the movie might as well be sprinkled with a fine white powder, Wonderland a snowy vista. The birds flap, shirking! Yelling! As the camera zooms in on their strained faces, wide glossy eyes. Alice is of course, frightened. Later, the actors must not have been given their allotted dosage as a riot almost ensues in two different scenes as characters chant: “TREACLE” and “PEPPER” respectively, hands shaking, eyes unfocused, looking for a fix.

Another side effect of the drugs is this movie’s preoccupation with their Stellar Technology. I remember when green screens were in vogue. And oh! Shiny flashy light things! And did you see how the Cheshire cat is a person, but half of him disappears? OMG! But the truly wonderful thing about the self-indulgent and conspicuous use of what was then a hot property is the musical clues. Did you hear that synthesized BBLLRRRIINNG noise? Careful kids: there’s some amazing technological moment coming up, don’t be caught unawares.

In the end, Alice falls in a pile of leaves, only to awake in her own yard, in time for tea. After her discoveries that adults are mean and make no sense at all, possibly because of their drug habits, she makes it back in time for tea. Was she anxious to sing moralistic songs herself, admonishing other Alices? Or is she now addicted to Treacle and pretty lights?

Is that what adulthood is? Losing the veil that tells us adults have it all figured out only to pick up a drug habit while straining to sing songs anyways, dancing in step? If so, at least the costumes are colorful and the lights distracting. My one worry: I’m not sure I know the words to the song.