Nowadays, over-reliance on special effects is such a source of contention in the film industry, that it's refreshing to revisit early cinema, where, over a century ago, cinematic effects were akin to magic, and considered the greatest boon in the unparalleled potential of the medium. In this respect, 1903's Alice in Wonderland, the earliest cinematic adaptation of the beloved Lewis Carroll novel, is a treat to watch, if only for the thought of Carroll (who had only recently passed away) tickled pink at the notion that the magic and wonder of his novel could be realized in live action in a fashion impossible on the stage. Ultimately, the eight minute film (reportedly, some cuts ran as long as 16 - an epic for 1903) is an 'adaptation' of Carroll's novel in only the crudest sense, its disconnected succession of scenes likely nonsensical for those unfamiliar with the story. As narrative in cinema was only a recent concept, this was hardly the point.
Where the film excels, as is the case for its innumerable remakes, Disney or otherwise, is in its visuals. Again, for contemporary audiences, being wowed will take some suspension of disbelief, but the real joy lies in imagining 1903 audiences gasping in awe at the shrinking and growing Alice (amusingly done by having the actor simply stand closer or farther away from the camera, with varying background sets), or the magically appearing Cheshire Cat (superimposed through double-exposure photography, and sans trademark Disney grin, to boot). The film gets a fair amount of mileage out of its costumes, with the White Rabbit suit and marching playing card army of the Queen of Hearts establishing a proudly storybook aesthetic, demonstrating whiffs of inspiration for the tale's iconic animated and less-admired Tim Burton adaptations alike.
Most interesting is the fact that the opening title card declares the ensuing whimsy to simply be Alice's dream, while later adaptations are more calculatedly ambiguous about the fantasy realm of Wonderland. It's a curious paradox that the first take on Carroll's classic is at once its most magical in terms of perceived effect on viewers, and yet the least willing to buy into its own magic. It's no wonder generations of children and adults alike continued to revisit Wonderland, for proper closure of a fantasy, surrealist realm they were allowed to believe to be real.
-7/10
Where the film excels, as is the case for its innumerable remakes, Disney or otherwise, is in its visuals. Again, for contemporary audiences, being wowed will take some suspension of disbelief, but the real joy lies in imagining 1903 audiences gasping in awe at the shrinking and growing Alice (amusingly done by having the actor simply stand closer or farther away from the camera, with varying background sets), or the magically appearing Cheshire Cat (superimposed through double-exposure photography, and sans trademark Disney grin, to boot). The film gets a fair amount of mileage out of its costumes, with the White Rabbit suit and marching playing card army of the Queen of Hearts establishing a proudly storybook aesthetic, demonstrating whiffs of inspiration for the tale's iconic animated and less-admired Tim Burton adaptations alike.
Most interesting is the fact that the opening title card declares the ensuing whimsy to simply be Alice's dream, while later adaptations are more calculatedly ambiguous about the fantasy realm of Wonderland. It's a curious paradox that the first take on Carroll's classic is at once its most magical in terms of perceived effect on viewers, and yet the least willing to buy into its own magic. It's no wonder generations of children and adults alike continued to revisit Wonderland, for proper closure of a fantasy, surrealist realm they were allowed to believe to be real.
-7/10