Black Moon

If you're wondering how old school independent filmmakers used to envision alternative realities without computerized special effects, Louis Malle's Black Moon is a stunning working example.

Unless you want something lighter.

Cherished freedoms have been ravaged by fanatical elements violently spreading wanton destruction, as a terrified individual drives through the countryside intent on discovering sanctuary.

(I do not mean that the quarantine is something negative that is taking away freedoms. People are fighting a war in Black Moon. The quarantine is necessary to stop the spread of a virus that is killing thousands around the world. It's hard to spend so much time at home, but by staying at home you're saving lives).

To avoid the rage of trigger happy goons, she quickly swerves off the road, emerging in cloistered environs, fully-equipped with a grouchy unicorn.

Things seem real enough, or as if reality is traditionally composed, but as she spends more time freely exploring, things become more and more wild and creepy.

It's as if her perceptual awareness is attuned to the wrong potent frequency, unaccustomed to bizarro differences, which the residents clearly perceive.

She reacts with energetic confusion as she attempts to reasonably comprehend, acclimatizing to non-verbal communications, learning to speak with animals.

Perhaps Louis Malle rather disliked Disney's Alice in Wonderland, for Black Moon lacks its childish wonder, or at least depicts it somewhat obtusely, like it's been left outside in the cold.

Then again, perhaps Disney's Alice was frightening to many of the children who saw it, it does abound with inherent conflict, and phantasmagoric foundations.

From my middle-aged 21st century perspective, I don't find Black Moon that frightening, or at least not as haunting as Audition or Midsommar, it's not as intent on terrifying.

But if I had been raised in the fifties it may have indeed promoted despair, as Lily (Cathryn Harrison) encounters baleful beasties, and embraces disorientation.

I'm not sure if it should be classified as horror although the designation could snuggly fit, but it's perhaps beyond classification, as it transforms every time you view it.

It certainly lacks romance, or isn't enchantingly disposed, intertextual bedtime bedlam, like a fable without moral or lesson.

It tells its tale without ornate orchestration, without much statistical entitlements, creating unique innovations thereby, that leave a lasting impact.

With no concern for uplifting spirits, apart from an ethereal classical soirée, it by no means seeks happy endings, and seems to absurdly inter them.

Perfect for Halloween.

For considerations of low budget sci-fi.

Unorthodox strange elementals.

Acts of inspired independence.

Alice Through the Looking Glass

Courageous independent daring precociously proving itself under pirated extremes, sees its accomplishments rewarded with gender biased disdain as a scorned suitor attempts to neutralize it permanently, thereby aggrandizing his mediocrity, in terms of the status quo.

But in this petty and perilous predicament an alternative reality presents itself, more literary than commercial, but one within which Alice's (Mia Wasikowska) strength is regarded with respect and awe, the reflection becoming the recourse, as she instinctively exonerates Wonderland's sociocultural peculiarities.

Once more.

Agile assertions.

Temporal clemency.

The foundations are in place to enchant an everlasting imbroglio, feminine resiliency challenging unimaginative entitlement, multicultural magnanimity dousing insensitive cinders, but Alice Through the Looking Glass doesn't narratively impress, as it struggles to diversify both structurally and linguistically.

The script, while written for children, doesn't invest in creative unrestrictive dialogue, continuously employing stale predictable expressions, like Andrew Adamson's Prince Caspian, consequently subverting its versatile progressive message.

In an Alice in Wonderland film, it's fun to watch as all the strange characters have their defining moments as well, but in Through the Looking Glass many of them (Tweedledee [Matt Lucas], the Cheshire Cat [Stephen Fry], etc.) turn into background fluff, and offer sycophantic praise as opposed to startling interrogations.

Individuality sacrificed to establish unconscious group consensus.

Time (Sacha Baron Cohen) is also limited by stifling encumbrances, and the Mad Hatter (Hatter Tarrant Hightopp [Johnny Depp]) functions like a lamentable puppy instead of ingenious rarefied iridescence.

If he was destined to be a Hatter like his father before him, why wasn't Alice destined to end up like her mother before her?

Much too covertly traditional for a film advocating for gender equality, Through the Looking Glass has some fun moments, but doesn't inspire long lasting critical propensity.

Perhaps it's suggesting that if the powerful are indeed bland, powerful women must also be bland when occupying leading roles to avoid mass displacements, while structuring the order of things.

The familiarity in TTLG dulls its fantastic edge.

By dulling the fantasy, it counterproductively thinks outside the box, Alice excelling at out of the box thinking, but it's more compelling when she faces multiple encompassed challenges rather than one realistic and one fantastic, challenges which she duels with head on without encountering any serious setbacks.

The film does point out the ridiculous burdens independent women sometimes confront when expressing themselves, however, diagnoses of hysteria for instance, grossly unjust reductions.

Alice in Wonderland

Alice (Mia Wasikowska) is back in Alice in Wonderland, another trip down the rabbit hole into the blue collar realm of the working class. Having run away from her aristocratic engagement party, Alice is ready to hide out among the people before choosing whether or not to marry the ungodly Hamish Ascot (Leo Bill). But unbeknownst to her, her underground world has been ravaged by the wicked Red Queen (Helena Bonham Carter) and her nouveau-riche Jabberwocky (Christopher Lee). The Mad-Hatter (Johnny Depp), Blue Caterpillar (Alan Rickman), and Cheshire Cat (Stephen Fry) are still doing their best to go about their daily business, but Underland's playful, picturesque, phantasmagorical playground has been seriously destabilized (the majestic White Queen [Anne Hathaway] powerless and distraught). Will Alice passively accept these changes and quietly look on as her friends and acquaintances are scurrilously downtrodden? Not on her watch. After the blue collar workers remind her who she is, it's payback time, and the Red Queen had better be ready for a full on aristocratic onslaught of revolutionary fury. Dramatics aside, the film's made for kids and Linda Woolverton's script is tame and family friendly. A lot of scenes are cut short and could have used a bit more dialogue to strengthen their characterizations (when the Mad-Hatter first encounters Stayne, the Knave of Hearts [Crispin Glover], for instance). The relatively sane Mad-Hatter's character is built-up at the expense of the surrounding cast and it would have been nice to see some of the supporting characters receive more screen time. And Alice's unfortunate return to her nascent social realm is far to cutesy and perfect. Predictable and saccharine yet jocular and entertaining, Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland packs a solid kitsch punch with an extra couple of jujubes. And one more thing, Mia Wasikowska's performance is outstanding and whomever decided to keep her off the promotional poster made a serious mistake (like the film made more money because Johnny Depp's highlighted on the poster).