Alice Through The Looking Glass Watch Movie

You know those days? The ones where you wake up and the world just feels a little… off? Like you put on your socks inside out, or you’re convinced you spoke fluent alien in your sleep? I had one of those the other day. I was making my morning coffee, and I swear, for a solid minute, the milk carton winked at me. ¹ It sounds absolutely bonkers, I know. But it got me thinking about how sometimes, our reality just decides to take a little detour, and suddenly, everything is… well, through the looking-glass.

And that, my friends, is precisely what watching Alice Through the Looking-Glass felt like. Not the new one, the one from way back when. The one with the frankly terrifying CGI Jabberwocky and the perpetually bewildered Alice. It’s been a minute since I last revisited it, probably since I was a kid with sticky fingers and an inability to distinguish between plot and pretty colours. And let me tell you, re-watching it as an adult is a whole different kettle of fish. Or, perhaps more fittingly, a whole different pool of tears.

So, settle in, grab your own cup of potentially sentient coffee, and let’s dive down the rabbit hole of my slightly-less-than-sober thoughts on this fantastical film. Because honestly, who needs sober when you’ve got a Tweedledee and Tweedledum to entertain you?

The Looking-Glass: A Mirror to Our Own Absurdity

The core idea of Through the Looking-Glass, and by extension the movie, is this delightful notion that the world operates on its own bizarre, often illogical, set of rules. Much like that coffee carton, right? Alice, bless her cotton socks, is constantly trying to apply her Wonderland logic to the Looking-Glass world, and it just… doesn’t work. And isn’t that just a perfect metaphor for life sometimes?

You’ve got your plans, your expectations, your carefully laid out path, and then BAM! A rogue pigeon decides your head is a convenient landing strip, or your boss calls you in for a chat about your “innovative approach” which is code for “you’re fired, but we like your spirit.” It’s the chaos, the delightful, maddening, Alice-esque chaos that we often find ourselves navigating.

The movie, in its own way, leans into this. Alice is no longer just a wide-eyed observer; she’s actively trying to fix things. She’s on a quest to save the Mad Hatter, which, let’s be honest, is a noble if slightly futile pursuit. Who can truly save a Mad Hatter from himself? It’s like trying to un-mad a cat. Good luck with that.

And the characters! Oh, the characters. They are a glorious, motley crew of the eccentric and the utterly unhinged. The Red Queen, with her perpetually grumpy disposition and her rather extreme solutions to minor inconveniences ("Off with his head!" is practically her catchphrase, and who can blame her when the hors d'oeuvres are stale?), is a masterclass in petty tyranny. You almost want to give her a hug. Almost. ²

Then there’s the White Queen, all ethereal calm and nonsensical pronouncements. She’s the embodiment of “zen” gone slightly wrong. I imagine her meditating in a field of daisies, whispering profound truths like, “The universe is a giant teacup, and we are all just slightly lukewarm Earl Grey.” Sounds about right. Or maybe it’s just the lack of sleep catching up with me. Either way, it’s wonderfully… other.

The Mechanics of the Mirror: What Does it All Mean?

Now, let’s talk about the actual watching of the movie. It's a visual feast, for sure. The CGI is a bit of a mixed bag. Some of it holds up surprisingly well, especially the creature designs. The White Queen’s flowing gowns and the Red Queen’s impossibly large head are iconic. But then you get to some of the more… ambitious animations, and you can practically see the pixels crying for mercy. It’s like looking at a beautiful painting that’s been slightly smudged by a toddler. Still charming, but you notice the smudges.

The narrative itself is… well, it’s a bit of a patchwork quilt. It jumps around, it throws in new elements, and sometimes you’re left wondering how we got from Point A to Point Z without stopping at any of the intervening letters. It’s not a tightly plotted thriller, that’s for sure. It’s more like a dream sequence that’s been stretched into a feature film. And you know what? Sometimes, that’s exactly what you need. A good, old-fashioned, nonsensical adventure.

The themes, though, are surprisingly resonant. The idea of time being a character itself, represented by the rather terrifying Time (played with delightful menace by Sacha Baron Cohen), is brilliant. Time, that relentless, ticking clock that dictates our lives. And in the movie, Time is a capricious, often cruel master. Alice has to steal back the Chronosphere, a device that controls time, from the Red Queen. It’s a race against… well, against time itself. How meta is that? ³

And the idea of accepting your past, even the painful bits, is also a big one. Alice has to confront the loss of her father and her own perceived failures to move forward. It’s a surprisingly emotional undertone for a film that features a giant, sentient garden gnome who can talk. No judgment, though. I’ve had weirder conversations with inanimate objects. Haven’t we all?

The Performances: A Symphony of Silliness

Let’s talk about the acting. Johnny Depp as the Mad Hatter is, as always, a spectacle. He fully commits to the madness, the theatricality, the sheer… Depp-ness of it all. He’s either a stroke of genius or a man who’s deeply misunderstood the concept of "acting." I’m leaning towards the former, with a healthy dose of the latter. He’s like a magnificent, slightly unhinged peacock.

Mia Wasikowska, as Alice, carries the weight of this fantastical world on her slender shoulders. She’s got this quiet strength, this determination that makes you root for her, even when she’s being chased by a monstrous butterfly or trying to reason with a sentient clock. She’s the anchor in this sea of absurdity. You kind of want to give her a pat on the head and a sturdy cup of tea. And maybe a biscuit. Who doesn't love a biscuit?

Helena Bonham Carter as the Red Queen is just… pure joy. She revels in the villainy, the grotesque, the sheer fun of being utterly awful. Her performance is so over-the-top, so deliciously camp, that you can’t help but be captivated. She’s the kind of villain you secretly want to have a drink with, just to see what other outrageous pronouncements she has up her voluminous sleeves. Probably something about dismemberment and very fashionable hats.

And then there’s Anne Hathaway as the White Queen. She’s all gentle smiles and cryptic advice, a stark contrast to her sister. She’s like a benevolent ghost who occasionally breaks into interpretive dance. Her stillness is almost more unnerving than the Red Queen’s rage. It’s a subtle performance, but effective.

The Takeaway: Embracing the Nonsense

So, what’s the final verdict on Alice Through the Looking-Glass? It’s not a perfect film. It’s messy, it’s a little bit jarring, and it’s definitely not for everyone. If you’re looking for a linear, predictable narrative, you might want to steer clear. But if you’re in the mood for a whimsical escape, a journey into the delightfully bizarre, then this is your ticket.

It reminds us that life isn’t always logical. Sometimes, the best thing you can do is embrace the absurdity, go with the flow, and maybe, just maybe, try to have a conversation with your milk carton. You never know what secrets it might reveal. Or perhaps it’ll just tell you to drink it before it goes off. That’s probably a more practical outcome, if I’m honest.

It’s a film that encourages us to question our own reality, to look beyond the surface, and to find the magic in the mundane. It’s a reminder that even in the most chaotic of worlds, there’s always room for a little bit of wonder. And a lot of mad hatters. Don’t forget the mad hatters. They’re essential.

So, the next time you feel like the world is spinning a little too fast, or that you’ve stepped through a looking-glass into a land of utter nonsense, just remember Alice. She’s been there. And she, more or less, made it out the other side. With a slightly bruised ego and a newfound appreciation for talking mice, probably.

And as for me and my potentially sentient coffee carton? Well, let’s just say we’re in a deeply philosophical discussion about the existential dread of expiring dairy. Wish me luck.