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When Linda Woolverton wrote the script for what became Tim Burton’s “Alice in Wonderland” in 2010, she was constrained by the fact that the prospective audience would know something of Lewis Carroll’s classic 1865 book, even at second-hand via an adaptation such as Disney’s 1951 animated film. That didn’t stop her and Burton from major surgery, but still one could glimpse, though rather dimly, a shadow of the original. In dealing with Carroll’s 1872 successor volume, however, she apparently felt almost totally liberated from the source, which is even less widely read nowadays and in any event would seem utterly resistant to direct retelling on the screen. (Witness the slightly more faithful, but terrible, Australian animated version of 1987.) In any event, there’s little left of Carroll in this new “Alice Through the Looking Glass” beyond the title.

Still, that might not be a major problem were the new narrative that Woolverton has concocted something more than a dreary recitation of clichéd contemporary nostrums, albeit one decked out in all the flashily empty finery that state-of-the-art CGI can deliver. The movie ultimately comes down to the usual lessons: the overriding importance of family, the need to reconcile rather than harbor old grievances, and an injunction to tell the people you love how you feel about them while there’s still time—in other words, precisely the sort of mawkish claptrap that one gets in movie after movie nowadays, and that probably would have made Carroll wince (or worse).

The picture is also about the Mad Hatter, a character who’s at best a peripheral presence in the original book (some would say he doesn’t appear at all) but becomes the centerpiece of this story. Why? The reason is obvious: he was played in Burton’s movie by Johnny Depp in full Willy Wonka mode, and Depp was available for the sequel. So Woolverton’s script relates how Alice—again played by Mia Wasikowska as a considerably older version of Carroll’s little girl—saves the Hatter from dying of the grief he feels over the disappearance of his family years ago in a Jabberwocky attack. To do so she has to travel back in time and prevent their deaths—or prove they weren’t killed after all. But that’s not all the personal healing that her trip entails: we learn that the ferocity of the Red Queen (Helena Bonham Carter, another returnee), was engendered by a lie told by her sister the White Queen (Anne Hathaway) when they were children, and they reconcile, too. As if that weren’t enough, Alice and her mother (Lindsay Duncan), who have been at odds, make up as well. The only consolation is that everybody doesn’t link hands and sing “Kumbaya” at the end.

As to particulars: Alice is introduced as the intrepid captain of her late father’s ship The Wonder, using daring moves to escape pirates in dangerous seas. Returning to England, she’s distressed to discover that her mother has mortgaged their house to her boss (and erstwhile suitor), sleazy Hamish (Leo Bill), and to save one she must surrender the other. But shortly the caterpillar-turned-butterfly Absolem (voiced by the late Alan Rickman) leads her through a mirror back to Underland, where a bevy of the characters she befriended in the last film inform her of the Hatter’s dire despondency. They tell her that she alone can travel back through the years to save his family, but doing so will require purloining the device known as the Chronosphere from its master, Time (Sacha Baron Cohen), a mustachioed figure out of a Johann Strauss operetta who oversees all temporal events through clocks big and small, assisted in his work by a battery of clattery metal minions that can, when faced with an emergency, consolidate into one large robot.

Alice manages to zoom off into the past inside the stolen Chronosphere, with Time in hot pursuit. Passing through tunnels of watery ooze modeled after the big-wave ocean swells familiar from surfing movies, they travel back to significant days that reveal the disappointment the Hatter’s father, the elder Hightop (Rhys Ifans), felt in his son and the Hatter’s failure to save his family from the dragon-like Jabberwocky. The journey also discloses how the Red Queen became the virago she is and the role she played in the Hightop family’s tragedies. Rectifying one of those connected occurrences, it turns out, will change the other as well.

It’s ironic to find the makers working so hard to make narrative sense out of all this, when Carroll’s point was to revel in the illogicality in the incidents he was fashioning. Woolverton’s need to explain everything—the Hatter’s madness most notably—in the most mundane way is a major blunder that sets this “Alice” at a greater remove from its supposed source than all its pedestrian narrative inventions do. The film is a betrayal of Carroll in spirit as well as letter—certainly nothing could be further from his attitude than the misguided sequence showing the heroine briefly committed to a lunatic asylum and threatened with a spectacularly large syringe.

Still, the audiences that flocked to “Alice in Wonderland” will probably find this garish travesty to their taste, too. Certainly the visuals are consistently eye-popping, especially in IMAX 3-D, and one has to give credit to the effects team and cinematographer Stuart Dryburgh for seeing to it that the live-action footage meshes so well with the CGI. Director James Bobin, who did the recent Muppets movies, keeps things moving with the help of editor Andrew Weisblum, and Danny Elfman’s score works overtime to pump energy and whimsy into the mix, even if it’s not only of his more distinctive efforts.

As to the onscreen human contributions, Wasikowska is again an agreeable presence, even if turning Alice into a feminist icon is yet another way in which the screenplay deviates radically from its roots. Depp does what has more and more become his default off-the-wall style, more clown than actor; these sorts of turns haven’t ruined him, as “Black Mass” recently proved, but they’ve done him no good. Carter repeats her screeching banshee from the last picture, which is growing a miter tedious, but it’s Cohen who’s the most prominent scenery-chewer this time around, though the lack of wit in his heavily-accented lines leaves him singularly unfunny, while the mugging of Ifans and Bill as Father Hightop and Hamish is positively embarrassing. It makes the laid-back manner of El Speleers, as Hamish’s handsome aide, and Hathaway’s blissfully vacant expression, particularly refreshing. The extraordinary array of voice talent that includes Stephen Fry (the Cheshire Cat), Michael Sheen (the White Rabbit) and Timothy Spall (as the drowsy bloodhound Bayard) is mostly heard in brief, unimpressive snippets, but it’s good to have Rickman’s mellow tones on film one more time.

One might be moved to say that this “Alice” is only a pale reflection of Carroll’s imaginative masterpiece, but with all the changes it’s barely a reflection of the book at all.


The Marvel “X-Men” movie franchise has been an up-and-down affair. The initial trilogy of 2000-2006 was a financial smash, but the quality wasn’t terribly high, and the third episode, “The Last Stand”—directed by Brett Ratner, who took over from Bryan Singer (“X-Men” and “X-Men United”)—was the nadir. That was followed by an awful “Wolverine” spinoff in 2009 (a further installment devoted to him in 2013 was better, but not by much). More importantly, Matthew Vaughn rejuvenated the series with the excellent “First Class” in 2011, and Singer returned at the top of his form with “Days of Future Past” two years ago. Now Singer follows that up with a finale to the second trilogy that doesn’t quite match its immediate predecessors, but is still a solid entry in the superhero sweepstakes.

The strength of “X-Men: Apocalypse” doesn’t lie, frankly, in the story, which has been adapted by Simon Kinberg from one of the comic’s basic threads. It centers on Apocalypse (Oscar Isaac), an early mutant—often referred to as the first of his kind—who survived over generations by periodically taking over the bodies of younger men. We meet him in ancient Egypt, where as En Sabah Nur he’s been lording it over the Nile and is now about to undergo another such transformation. There’s a conspiracy against him, however, which buries him under tons of stone just after the change has been accomplished.

In the mid-eighties, a clutch of devotees—along with unwitting CIA agent Moira MacTaggert (Rose Byrne)—resuscitate Apocalypse, who looks over Cairo and quickly concludes that the human species must be wiped out so that the earth can begin afresh. To do so, he recruits three followers—needy Ororo (Alexandra Shipp), hot-tempered Psylocke (Olivia Munn) and depressed Angel (Ben Hardy)—to serve him. Eventually added to their number is Erik Lensherr, aka Magneto (Michael Fassbender), who’s been living incognito as a simple Polish workman with a wife and a lovely daughter until his neighbors incite a family tragedy that sends him to the dark side again.

Arrayed against them will be a variety of X-men, some old and some new (or at least reintroduced in younger form). Foremost among them, of course, is Professor Xavier (James McAvoy), now wheelchair bound, who runs the school for mutants who wish to assimilate, and who, along with his trusted lieutenant Hank McCoy, aka Beast (Nicholas Hoult), is attempting to train the young Jane Grey (Sophie Turner) to control her telekinetic powers. They will be joined in due course by loner Raven, aka Mystique (Jennifer Lawrence), who escorts a new recruit, the young Nightcrawler (Kodi Smit-McPhee); she’s saved him from a European fight club where he’d been pitted against Angel. Another newcomer is Scott Summers, aka Cyclops (Tye Sheridan), brought to the school by his brother Alex, aka Havok (Lucas Till) when his eye-blasts emerge uncontrollably. Another youngster will eventually show up on his own—Peter Maximoff, aka Quicksilver (Evan Peters), who has a secret about his family background. And when some of our heroes fall under the control of uncomprehending military men, they get a bit of help from a surprise guest star fans will greet enthusiastically.

What follows isn’t much more than a battle between the two sides in which Apocalypse attempts to take over Xavier’s body and use his powers to unleash nuclear devastation on both sides of the Cold War while the X-men, old and new, work to prevent him from succeeding; Magneto, as usual, is the man in the middle, struggling between his friend Xavier’s invitation to join the forces of good and Apocalypse’s cultivation of his personal fury, and there are plenty of obstacles to overcome along the way. It all ends, of course, in a cataclysmic fight to the finish.

But if the substance isn’t all that remarkable (though Isaac is an excellent actor, for example, encased in makeup he can’t make Apocalypse much more than a gloomy statue), the construction is. Singer, working closely with Kinberg, cinematographer Newton Thomas Sigel, editors John Ottman and Michael Louis Hill and effects master John Dykstra, keeps the narrative both clear and fast-moving. He knows how to make films like this, however complicated they are and however many characters he must juggle, unfold smoothly, and in an era when simple coherence and good craftsmanship are becoming increasingly rare commodities in these franchise blockbusters, his pictures—even a goofy one like “Jack the Giant Killer”—demonstrate precisely those virtues. Ottman also provides a solid score that plugs in snatches of Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony at a few moments.

In films of this sort fine acting is hardly dominant, but all the returning stars acquit themselves well, with Fassbender again the standout as the conflicted Magneto. The newcomers are excellent too, with Sheridan and Smit-McPhee especially winning. But as in the last go-round, it’s Peters who takes the honors, adding a touch of over-the-top kookiness to Quicksilver that sets that character apart.

There are a few miscalculations in “Apocalypse,” the worst being the use of Auschwitz as a plot device—a decision that will strike many as tasteless. More might have been made of the political situation in the mid-eighties, too; the period trappings are mostly of a cheerfully inconsequential sort, though one—involving another cinematic trilogy—provides the movie’s biggest laugh (even if some viewers might think it hits too close to home). And as enjoyable as the elaborate sequence showcasing Quicksilver’s arrival at Xavier’s academy is, it is awfully reminiscent of the one in the previous film in which his speed saved the day.

Still, by the standards of the genre this is mostly a first-rate job, in this viewer’s estimation the best of the superhero flicks to appear thus far this summer.