Why, Tim Burton?

Rating: Null/10 (6 March 2010)

If there's one filmmaker working today whose style is utterly unmistakable, it's Tim Burton. Since his debut, he's proudly and consistently upheld his many visual and metaphysical tropes with TLC. These tenets include: ostentatious design and execution of the delectably twisted and dark kind, saccharine sentimentality (with perhaps the exception of Sweeney Todd), and a dramatis personae of irascible characters both one with his darkness and yet completely unaware of it. But Burton's self-aware devotion to this Formula* has palliated his once-fresh perspective, familiarity subsequently turning odd and unconventional into a recycled bore and, thus, the complete opposite. The biggest offender of this cumbersome rehashing is the director's latest, a highly ambitious undertaking: a live-action adaptation of the Lewis Carroll classic, Alice in Wonderland.
We start off with the mandatory flashback to the youth of our heroine, the eponymous Alice. Her ambitious father (Marton Csokas) gallantly interrupts an important meeting to tend to his post-nightmare daughter. She proceeds to describe her bad dream, foreshadowing her coming adventures in Wonderland, and questions her own sanity. Her father replies (and I'm paraphrasing): "Yes, you're mad. But the best people are." It's a nice sentiment, and one that fittingly pertains with the status quo evident here. It's almost distraction enough from the hilariously bad performance given by the ever-mugging Csokas. It's a brief turn, which makes the efficacy of his awfulness all the more surprising.
Years later, Alice (listless newcomer Mia Wasikowska) is nineteen and doomed to an arranged marriage to a complete stiff. The ensuing events are banalities sparse in consequence, necessary to increase the wonder of Wonderland by contrast, but dull nonetheless. Ironically, the title setting is surprisingly unimaginative. Burton's Wonderland is one of generic outlandishness; large, colorful flora, discolored skies of a dismal murk, and vast landscapes defined by one prominent topographical feature. The visual effects are embarrassingly unconvincing, and the 3-D does little to help; as always, the newfound cinematic dimension is merely a gimmick, a nicety, and here it once again proves that we still have quite a long way to go before the technique effects an audience viscerally. Obvious and absent the awe and immersion that it's director presence suggests and should guarantee, Wonderland's uninspired design is another victim of the extenuation of the Burton Formula, and the movie's disappointing lack of scope and half-realization.
Tonally, Alice in Wonderland is dead. It's neither comedic nor dramatic, due to an absence of intentional humor and urgency, respectively, and with the pacing of a snail, this renders the whole experience quite drab. Now, I'm sure the acidic eccentricities of Carroll and Burton sounds a treat, yes? Sadly, Burton and screenwriter Linda Woolverton only inherit the concept and characters of Carroll's legendarium, opting instead to incorporate their own story. What follows is a predictable hybrid of the established Wonderland scribes, absent the warmth and wit. Alice arrives in the mystical world, her "destiny" (and the movie's climax) is hastily affirmed, and thus everything beforehand feels like filler. Impending peril is intended to grip the story (what with the omnipresent tyranny of Helena Bonham Carter's Red Queen), but last-minute and inconceivable resolutions whenever danger arises dissipates the drama.
The cast lend some help in the way of salvaging things. Hathaway is underused, but nails the delicate-nature of the White Queen. There's also an abundance of British character actors at the movie's disposal. Like Harry Potter, it's a roll-call of workaday thespians: Stephen Fry (Cheshire Cat, actually acting, not just reading lines), Michael Sheen (White Rabbit, his voice unrecognizable, as usual), Christopher Lee (Jabberwocky, two lines of utter captivation), Timothy Spall (the Bloodhound, slowly becoming a Burton affiliate), Alan Rickman (Caterpillar, simply perfect), etc. Each could have literally phoned in their performances, but no doubt the gravity and beloved stature of Carroll's work was enough to compel faithfulness. They're what keeps proceedings afloat and only they encapsulate the spirit of the material.
Needless to say, the show is stolen by Helena Bonham Carter. Thrusting herself wholeheartedly into the role of the Red Queen, she's clearly having a ball here. Bonham Carter invests in the part, going far and beyond the call of duty, turning a thin antagonist into a well-honed character; the Red Queen is greedy, selfish, nefarious, but also naive, and often comes across as someone burdened with long-existing insecurities (the writing conveys this, but Bonham Carter expands upon what is merely hinted at). Her childish totalitarianism makes for a diverting and inoffensive baddie, and also serves as the main source of the movie's genuine laughs.
That other staple of Burton cinema, Johnny Depp, is on hands here, donning a Carrot Top wig to play one of Carroll's most immortal and recognizable creations, the Mad Hatter. On the capricious and whimsical side of the Depp spectrum instead of stoic and near-comatose, this turn is another addition to the equally-wearing output of a man dubiously revered for versatility. I don't mean to sound irreverent, as Depp is a talented actor, but it's been seven years since his last truly impressive performance, and his need to play characters of substance-less recondite is a waste of his time. Here, he's not quite teeth-grating, but he's still not exactly as fun as he could be. Like Bonham Carter, he attempts obliqueness, here by gauging the Hatter's glee on a trippy meter of eccentric and downright maniacal depending on the situation at hand. It's a minor victory for character depth, but it's a shame Depp insists on delivering a large portion of his lines in an unintelligible Scottish accent.
Alice in Wonderland is bad. In fact, I'm shocked at just how much I dislike it. I hate to condemn a movie for primarily this alone, but my biggest problem with it is that it's boring. Burton will undoubtedly benefit from immediately distancing himself from adaptations and the Formula.