Alice in Wonderland

Few would deny that Disney’s Alice in Wonderland fails on a lot of levels: It lacks emotion, it’s episodic, the story has no goal…

And yet…

It’s my favorite Disney film. It haunted my dreams way back in my sixties childhood when Disney animation was a rare treat (I think small children can relate to Alice’s fear of being lost in Tulgey Wood, and that—if you experience this film at a young age—the movie retains a deep-rooted sense of peril that’s lost on those who initially view it as an adult.) Time has been kind to this movie: Watching it today, all the narrative problems still exist, but the film amazes, dazzles and completely succeeds at conjuring a cohesive, unforgettable world unlike anything else in the history of cinema.

Visually, it’s a masterpiece that looks fresher and more daring with each passing decade. It playfully weaves nearly two dozen songs—many of them mere fragments—into its colorful soundtrack. It’s not sappy or preachy. It actually sticks fairly close to the book’s storyline. It substitutes visual puns for Lewis Carroll’s wordplay, and mostly succeeds. And, after all the criticism fired at the movie when it debuted in the fifties, no other studio has created a more successful adaptation. I rather liked the TV movie a few years back featuring Martin Short, Christopher Lloyd, Gene Wilder and Peter Ustinov (it’s on iTunes), but it had its own share of pacing problems and took just as many liberties with the book. We’ll see how Tim Burton fares next year—I’m looking forward to it.

Let’s look at the negatives of Disney’s version: The ever-annoyed Alice often seems bratty and arrogant, and she learns nothing from the adventure. The journey has no compelling goal. The fragmented plot is episodic to a ridiculous extreme: Whole sequences can be removed without making any noticeable difference. The music, while generally terrific, frequently becomes brash and intrusive, particularly when it’s used to emphasize gags.

So, what does the movie offer to make it worthwhile? Sheer, incredible visual wonderment. Fantastic backgrounds and amazing use of light and color from the minds of Mary Blair and Claude Coats. Memorable character designs. Terrific animation.

Plus, it contains The Awesome Sequence: One long, perfect chain of scenes—The Cheshire Cat, The Tea Party and Tulgey Wood—that I’d rate as one of the most brilliant twenty minutes of film in Disney’s history: Genius designs, great dialogue and pacing, big laughs, craziest moments and—for once—Alice displays some genuine concern about being lost in Weirdsville. During the song Very Good Advice, I love the fact that the forest animals don’t help Alice; They simply sob themselves into non-existence. Unexpected and unique. If only the whole film clicked on the level of these scenes…

The Cheshire Cat, of course, is this movie’s big gift to pop culture. Creepy, funny, mysterious and odd, he turns out to be a hilarious S.O.B. who sets Alice up for disaster for his own amusement—thus joining Wendy-hating Tinkerbell as a beloved Disney character who tries to arrange the heroine’s execution!

And, on a completely different note, this movie inspired one of the best dark rides in any Disney park. But that’s another post.

So here’s a toast to Alice in Wonderland, the problem movie that continues to delight. Flaws and all, it deserves to be called a classic.

Animal Crossing

Animal Crossing's concept sounds dreadful, but--like so many Nintendo creations--once you actually sit down and play the thing, it unfolds as a charming, funny and incredibly entertaining experience.

With the Wii incarnation marking the franchise's third release in several years, Animal Crossing is a non-game in which you move to a small village and...well...collect seashells and pick fruit. You also spread rumors, start trends, save the local museum, get annoyed with your neighbors, and hit rocks with a shovel in hopes that money might fly out. Thanks to sharp style and gobs of good, weird humor, this is all a hundred times more fun than it sounds.

Imagine a cross between the TV classic The Prisoner and Richard Scary's Busy Town. You begin life in your one-of-a-kind randomly-generated village by working to pay off your mortgage to the notorious Mr. Tom Nook. He's a human-sized raccoon. The mayor's a tortoise, dogs are cops, an owl runs the museum, a huge mustachioed pigeon tends bar at the coffee house, and your random assortment of ever-changing neighbors run the gamut from horses to mice and kabuki-faced cats. Each and every one of these villagers has a distinct personality, and that's where the charm of Animal Crossing shines. This was the original "game that plays even when you're not there." Using the system's internal clock as a reference, the game changes and updates what's happening in the village each time you boot up, creating an effective illusion that life in the place continues in your absence. Stay away too long and you might return to find your house infested with cockroaches, which you'll have to stamp out. Neighbors come and go (you can influence this). Special events happen weekly, monthly and annually. A fan favorite takes place every Saturday night at Brewster's coffee bar: The whimsical and incredibly cool folk singing dog, K.K. Rider, performs a song of your choosing, after which you can take home a recording to listen to on a virtual tape player.

The game has minor goals--Earn money, upgrade your house, improve the village, collect stuff, catch rare fish, donate fossils to the museum--but Animal Crossing is best enjoyed for what it is: A relaxing, surreal, good-humored trip to a fantasy vacation spot, meant to be enjoyed in short bursts. It won't change anyone's life or challenge anyone's reflexes...but it certainly makes people smile.

Memories of Azeroth

World of Warcraft remains the best game I've ever played, online or off. Enchanting, funny, scary and awe-inspiring, it gave me six months of pure, flabbergasting enjoyment before I had my fill.

My characters, Smithereens and his pet bear Avalanche, were walking disasters that few would ever invite into a group more than once. My communication with other players usually consisted of "Oops," and "Sorry about that." Smithereens had a knack for running out of ammo at crucial moments. Avalanche liked to run through monster encampments and then return to Smithereens's side, bringing his new buddies with him.

I'll alway remember Azeroth and its incredible landscapes that resembled living, three-dimensional paintings. I spent half the game taking screenshots. And I'll always remember my pals Smithereens and Avalanche. I like to imagine they're still out there somewhere, running for their lives from angry players...

Coraline

Henry Selick's Coraline is a beautiful, creepy, wonderful film.

Is it the scariest children's film ever made? Absolutely. Is it the most horrifying? No--that honor still goes to Bambi. Should you take your children to see Coraline? Ask them. They'll tell you.

As for us "grown-ups?" This film is a treasure. There's a lot to enjoy here, starting with the craftsmanship. It can't be repeated enough: This movie is drop-dead gorgeous to look at, from the character designs to the vast, detailed sets and surreal effects. With a witty screenplay, an otherworldly musical score and top-notch animation, the filmmakers have crafted a near-perfect journey into a dark, modern fairy tale.

Director/Screenwriter Henry Selick has added elements not found in Neil Gaiman's terrific novel. Of all the added material, I think the character Wybie is the most successful new creation. His first scene comes across like an attempt to get the boys in the audience involved (Look—A camo-mutant on a dirt bike!), but he ends up extremely likable, and his friendship with Coraline is fun to watch develop.

Most of the filmmakers' changes to the book's characters work beautifully. Coraline's upstairs neighbor, Mr. Bobinsky,has been transformed into a hugely entertaining oddball. He’s hilarious, mysterious and strange–and that goes for his Other World self as well. The elderly roommates, Spink and Forcible, have be given a...um...hobby that's as scary as anything Coraline will encounter in the Other World.

Coraline and the Cat she befriends stay closest to the book incarnations, to great success. The cat is amazing, stealing every scene he appears in, and always behaving perfectly, believably cat-like.

The film contains many outstanding sequences. The magic garden dazzles, as does Coraline's strange "walk around the world." Selick also succeeds in bringing wonder into the "ordinary" world of the boarding house, particularly in a terrific bit involving ground-covering mist and a hunt for banana slugs.

I saw the film in 3D, and I have mixed feelings about the process. It works, it’s beautiful, and it added a few sensory jolts that won’t be part of a 2D viewing. Best of all, it makes the wonderfully hand-crafted world come to life with a depth and solidity that’s astounding. On the other hand, it did make the screening less comfortable for me, and I mean that in a physical sense. The 3D didn’t give me a headache, but the viewing put some strain on my vision; I didn’t sit through the entire end credit run simply because my eyes felt exhausted. I’d still recommend a 3D viewing simply for the experience, but—in the end—I don’t think it’s a big deal one way or the other, and that a 2D viewing will be just as effective and a lot less of a strain. Still, the sight of those Scottie dogs flying in front and in back of the end credits was pretty cool.

Selick succeeds beautifully in conveying the story’s big message: Coraline’s real world, real parents and real neighbors are every bit as weird and wonderful and eccentric as anything in the Other World. Bobinsky’s acrobatics, the magic of the real outdoors, the…the…(shudder) …the shelves full of stuffed dog corpses dressed in angel costumes in the Old Ladies’ flat? Yiiikes! (It took me a moment to remember that, yes, that was the real world version of their place!)

One last bit: At the screening, a couple sat nearby with their four-year-old son. I wondered how he’d react to the film. As the end credits began rolling, I heard him say, in a calm but awestruck voice, “Mom, Dad…that was a really…good…movie.”

I agree completely.

Hello!

My name is Rich T.

The Astonished Walrus followed me home from the store one drizzly afternoon. He apparently spied the box of fish sticks through the transparent plastic grocery bag I carried, and that was that. The dogs and cats get along with him, and he seems happy in the back yard pond. All's well.

The creature is hooked on whimsy and fun, be it in books, art, movies, games or everyday life. He loves good animation. He enjoys games on the Wii--Mainly because he can actually hold the remote in his flippers.

The Astonished Walrus is allergic to shellfish.
He is polite and never curses--Not even in walrish.

Occasionally, the sea creature's enthusiasm for a particular film, game, ride, or what-have-you becomes contagious, and a review may result. By the way, this isn't easy: Try smuggling a two-ton walrus into Disneyland dressed as your eccentric "Uncle Hugo" and you'll see what I mean.

Thanks for dropping by. More soon.