BBC’s Alice In Wonderland : 1966
In fifth grade, I journeyed onto the small stage for the first and last time. I don’t know what possessed me that year, because I was a terminally shy kid for much of my life, but in fifth grade, I was the Mad Hatter.
In the grand scheme of things, the Mad Hatter is a minor, but highly memorable, character that appears near the end of Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland. The reason that he’s plastered all over the posters for the upcoming Tim Burton candy-colored, hollow monstrosity is to appeal to a cross section of the lowest common denominator : people who like to look at Johnny Depp, people who satisfy themselves at knowing the barest parts of classic literature and can pick out a character, and people who get all excited when they see shiny things. But I digress.
There have been many different film interpretations of Alice in Wonderland over the years. It naturally lends itself to amazing visual and intellectual landscapes. It is, after all, full of anthropomorphized animals, talismans, characters who are mentally ill, and general whimsy – and it presents itself in a manner that can be filmed as a sequential narrative.
Throw all of that away. In 1966, the BBC made their own version of the story. And it’s freaking weird. Which is saying a lot for Alice in Wonderland.
Filmed entirely in black and white, BBC’s Alice presents a deeply atmospheric take on Alice, never letting the viewer forget that the entire thing is a dream. While a knowledge of the book helps to string things together, watching the entire thing without the help of foreknowledge is even more confusing and disturbing. Our sleepy Alice never expresses a single emotion, and rarely looks at the people she’s talking to, instead opting to stare right at the audience in many cases and delivering her monologues in a whisper. Film is double exposed, speeches are run backwards, and you can’t help but feel like you’re watching something that stumbled out of the mind of the most intense surrealist.
All of the fascinating animals – the amphibian doormen, the drugged-out insects, the translucent cats – are now all people. Boring, stuffy, middle-class English people who speak in riddles that are far, far less endearing when they’re not coming out of a mouth that also catches flies. While this is definitely a commentary on society, I have to wonder if these comments are misplaced a little. Maybe I’m just a philistine for expecting a character called ‘March Hare’ to be a rabbit instead of a political cartoon that looks like an old dude.
That aside, the appearance of the film is absorbing, and just a little dark. Taxidermied dogs seem to appear everywhere, and overgrown weeds threaten to take over the entire screen. In place of all of the usual fantasy is a very heightened delivery of the hyper-real, which serves surprisingly wall in its place. The whole thing feels like falling asleep in the middle of a summer afternoon and waking up very disoriented – which is precisely what Alice does anyhow. On this larger scale, it works excellently, even if the narrative is impossible to follow.
This DVD, distributed by Warner Bros., includes a whole lot of great, insightful extras which are even more interesting then the film itself. First, there is a 1903 version of Alice in Wonderland, as well as a 1965 documentary about Lewis Carroll and his relationship with Alice, which becomes creepy very quickly and effectively. Best of all, there’s a full-length commentary provided by the director, which gives a lot of depth to the strange way that this film was interpreted. It’s actually surprising that so much exists around the making of this film, including behind the scenes photographs, given that it was made well before the era of DVD extras, so the experience is rewarding.
The world is going to lose sight of what Alice in Wonderland is about very soon, so this is a sobering look at the exact opposite of what the bombastic, gimmicky Burton is pulling. This title will be available on March 2, 2010, so have a look!
[DVD graciously provided by Warner Home Video Inc.]

I guess I’ll never come to terms with great TV shows ending prematurely. With the huge influence that the
Also reproduced here is the fact that half of the discs are double-sided DVDs – just like the original sets. Handle with care, as these are known to become damaged much more easily than a traditional DVD would, and some DVD players simply aren’t quite as gentle with the topside of a DVD as they could be. Batman got a huge boxed set with lots of extras, and Justice League got a tin. Superman seems to get the least fanfare of these three, being packaged in a plastic case with a slipcover. Of course, from a purely aesthetic sense, this would be nice to see in a fancy tin that can be shelved alongside the finer things, but it’s still great to have it all in one place. It’s not a complaint, because this packaging certainly wouldn’t prevent a purchase, but I’m a sucker for consistency and completing sets of things.











