Alice in Wonderland (3D)

That's Alice in Underland, thanks very much. Among the changes to your favorite childhood tale that Tim Burton has made is the name of the very place his heroine winds up. Again. Yes, you see, this is Alice's second journey to (W)onderland. This time, she is all grown up and about to be thrown into marriage to a pompous redheaded lord. She'd rather fling herself down the rabbit hole again, and does exactly that. But Alice thinks this is all a dream. A nightmare, rather, that she has been having for years, where there are disappearing cats and blue caterpillars and a mad mad mad mad hatter.
The first time we meet Alice, in fact, is when she is very young and her father is trying to console her after one such nightmare. This would have all been fine, had she not so deeply resembled a fully made-up baby beauty queen...no names, please. It's in bad taste. :)
This new Wonderland is a classic Tim Burton utopia. Not a tree is ungnarled, not a branch unthorned. It is quite beautiful, and the 3D does it justice, though I'm sure that 2D is just fine, too. Our grownup Alice is pale and stubborn and less apt to play along than when she was younger. This time, the Mad Hatter is truly bonkers. But then, all the best people are.
For example, Johnny Depp, again playing against type. His habit of taking roles that go against his natural beauty works for him. With his blackened eyes and socket-effect orange wig and eyebrows , this Hatter is not only mad, he is sad. A sad and lonely hatter, constantly worried that he has fallen entirely off the map.
Helena Bonham-Carter is the evil bobble-head Red Queen, and is beastly to look at, while Anne Hathaway, as Red's sister, the White Queen, is a beauty as only Burton can dream up. Crispin Glover of 80s fame is the lecherous Knave of Hearts, aptly named Stain, and he wears his constant grimace nicely. Some of the best actors in this film are not seen at all, only heard. Alan Rickman is the Caterpillar, the great Stephen Fry is the wily and creepier than usual Cheshire Cat, Christopher Lee is the Jabberwocky, and Michael Sheen is the White Rabbit, dashing about wildly in his waistcoat.
Though there were children at the showing I went to, I'm not so sure this is a children's Alice. This is a dark and Gothic Alice, and some children may be confused. Then again, I suppose that part of the charm of the Alice story has always been its off-kilter-ness (?). Burton's version is not my favorite Alice, to be sure, but it is far better than I had expected it to be. Remember his dire adaptation of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory? Me too. That is not the case here.

Easy Virtue

Disclaimer: I have not read the play on which this movie is based, but I'm sure I'd love it, because I love Noel Coward.
Now then. I was psyched when I first saw previews for this movie, because it takes place in an English countryside estate in the 1930s and there are fox hunts and nasty little one-liners and Colin Firth and Kristen Scott Thomas, so it sounded pretty fail-safe. And it was, to a certain extent. I'd like to blame the jarringness of it on Jessica Biel's inclusion, but I cannot, since she actually doesn't do a bad job. In fact, this won her a lot of points with me, since the last thing I saw her in was Valentine's Day, in which she almost caused me to vomit on the floor. But then, everything about that movie was mind-numbingly awful, so it wasn't totally her fault. Anyway, in Easy Virtue, Biel is charming (that's not an insult, though it sounds like one) and manages not to be completely upstaged by Thomas.
Biel plays Larita, the unwelcome American racecar driver who has married the heir to the estate, which they promptly move into, to her despair and his elation. The husband is played by Ben Barnes, who was Prince Caspian in one of the Narnia reduxes that I learned not to watch after the first one. He has wonderful eyes. But Jessica Biel is outrageous-looking, and the idea that she would fall for him is absurd. No matter.
Colin Firth, who plays the patriarch, Mr Whittaker, could act an entire movie using only his eyes. I love his eyes. I love his nose and his mouth with its skinny lips and I love his voice and all the rest of him. He is perfection, and he has a way of playing sad men that no one can beat. And here, his lovely smirk is in full blossom. A former soldier in The Great War, there is a deep sadness that follows him, and much is made of the fact that he did not come directly home from war, but rather "wandered back" after taking some time to...play. Biel's character's arrival brings a spark to Whittaker's life, and they develop a sort of secret friendship. Meanwhile, Larita's husband is drawing farther and farther away, unable to understand why his wife, a city girl, is unhappy in the countryside with nothing to do.
This being a large-scale drawing-room comedy, every step that Larita takes, she is stopped by the first Mrs. Whittaker (Thomas). Every effort she makes to really become part of the family is halted and sniveled at. Her only real happiness after a bit is hopping into her car and driving too fast for "the thrill of escape." If only her husband would hop on board.

Away We Go

Something I like to do after watching a movie is read the NY Times review of it and compare it to what I thought of the film. In this case, the differences are vast, in that AO Scott basically shat on it, and I enjoyed it a lot and wished it would keep going.
Let's get the bad stuff out of the way immediately: the music is awful. Maybe I just think that because it reminded me of the music from Juno, which makes me remember how that movie tricked me into liking it until I put my brain back in my head and realized how offensive it was. Probably, though, I just don't like that music. You know, contemplative sensitive men with an acoustic guitar, strumming their way around love that walked away or whatever. Blah.
So that's the bad stuff. Now, the good stuff. John Krasinski has never been sexier. Dave Eggers, who wrote the screenplay, has never been less irritating. Allison Janney, well, she's Allison Janney, and she wins every time. And Maya Rudolph proves she is way more than just a funny girl from SNL.
The movie's premise is that Burt and Verona (Krasinski and Rudolph, oddly well-matched) are about to have a baby (the way in which they discover this is a bit awkward, but funny and romantic). In the 6th month of pregnancy, they realize they have nowhere to settle, so they have an adventure around the US and Canada, in which they bump into many kooky people and learn which surroundings fit them best and worst. AO Scott's review states that these characters, in not being crazed New-Agey super-PC "seahorse community"-envying, other people's baby-breast-feeders, or potty-mouthed parents waxing luridly about their childrens' fatness, are better than everyone else in the movie, and know it, and that is somehow a bad thing. It is not a bad thing. It is a true thing. His argument is much like the middle school (and onwards, really) argument that if the pretty girl knows she is pretty, she is also a bitch. A does not equal B, my dear.
The relationship between Burt and Verona is far beyond most movie romances, in that we see a friendship, not just a sexual relationship or co-dependence. They are a team. Chris Messina and Melanie Lynskey play Tom and Munch, college buddies of the soon-to-be-parents, and have a similar team-like dynamic. They also have children and a social life, which should comfort any naysayers who are certain that people cease to be people once they spawn.
This is not a blockbuster. There are no explosions or ultimate betrayals or blood and guts. This is a movie about potentially real people looking for their own happiness, together. If knowing what they want and not standing for other people's idiocy makes them smug and better than the rest, so be it.

The Pride

Disappointing plays are more disappointing than disappointing movies, not just because of the amount of money spent on the ticket, but because if you fall asleep, the actors can see you. Kidding. Sort of.
This was Alexi Kaye Campbell's first play, so I give him many props for that. The problem was not the writing, it was the plots. Yes, both of them. See, what this play does is move back and forth in time, from 1958 to 2008, telling not quite related stories about not quite the same people. In 1958, Philip is married to Sylvia, Oliver is Sylvia's boss, and the two men have an illicit romance. In 2008, The two men are a recently separated couple, Philip having left Oliver, and Sylvia being the best friend. As I said, an interesting conceit.
Where everything goes awry, though, is in the fact that the play becomes, almost immediately, about a message, and not about people. The reason that Next Fall was so great, and why Sam Shepard's A Lie of the Mind, which I also recently saw, is so amazing, is that they are both plays that are about only the characters in them, and no one else. Message plays are lost on me, since in the end, there is nothing to cry over, or rejoice over, or even get angry about, since they're not really finished products. They aren't whole.
It was nice to see Hugh Dancy onstage, though, after all the raves he got in Journey's End, which I completely missed. After seeing him only in movies, and only sentimental movies at that, I was pleased to see him go in a whole new direction. Ben Whishaw as Oliver was good, too, but I have to admit that I was distracted by his constant emission of spittle (I know, it happens in plays, but sometimes it gets out of control), and his near-emaciated body. Andrea Riseborough (from Happy Go Lucky, which everyone should see) does a great job in both decades, changing her accent and demeanor more than the boys have to. Adam James pops up a few times as various other characters for one scene each, and steals each one fiercely. Bless.
One comparison I will make between The Pride and Next Fall (the two plays I've put here, and also both about gay male relationships) is that there is only one kiss in each play. Terribly different kisses, but only one, which struck me as odd both times. When people are in love, they kiss. They kiss hello, goodbye, or for no special reason, just to be close to the person they love. But in Next Fall, it was only the smallest peck, and in The Pride, the kiss was violent and sad, and led to a rape scene, or not, depending who you ask. But it struck me both times; these plays about love, with hardly any physical passion shown.