Despite donning the same name, Burton’s Wonderland sits well afar from what audiences might expect. It’s not a remake nor a sequel. Rather, Burton’s take is wholly unique when it comes to the finer details and textures, despite squarely setting his tale inside the rabbit hole we all know. In the film, Alice is oft (and accurately) described as the “stupid girl” by the Blue Caterpillar, primarily because she doesn’t recall her childhood trip to Underland. The talking critters are hopeful she is indeed the Alice from years ago, the real Alice who is destined to save them from the tyrannical rule of the Red Queen. As the diminutive dictator, Helena Bonham Carter — Burton’s wife, by the way — plays a wonderfully Napoleon-like villain, abusing frogs, stepping on pigs and giving into her natural bigheadedness (literally) to impulsively order decapitations.

Alice’s head is safe for most of the film, since no one knows if she’s truly the Alice of yore. Having stammered upon introduction to the Red Queen, Alice is primarily referred to as “Um.” This direction of amnesia and discovery is truly a silly one for Burton’s film. Alice finding and asserting her true character is a fine lesson for young girls, but one that isn’t terribly compelling or interesting. She happens from one interaction to another chipping away at her selective memory loss, and eventually admits to herself her full potential, which is to slay the Jabberwock in some wannabe-Lord of the Rings epic confrontation.

The Jabberwock is the Red Queen’s champion, and only with its destruction can Underland return to the White Queen’s rule. Anne Hathaway is lovely as Carter’s foil and sister, blithely flitting about like a drunken housewife from Connecticut. Hers is an odd but enjoyable take on the character, unlike Depp’s Mad Hatter. Burton gets credit for taking the Hatter’s appearance down such a colorful and eccentric path, but Depp fails in holding up his end. To be fair, writer Linda Woolverton — off with her head! — did him little favors. When in good spirits, the Hatter’s aloof wandering is accompanied by a very odd lisp; perhaps attributable to the Madonna-like gap in his front teeth. When riled up, however, the speech impediment strangely gives way to a gravely Scottish accent that smacks of Captain Jack Sparrow (Pirates of the Caribbean). To make Hatter’s matters worse, his often indiscernible rambling, which at times surfaces genuine and worthwhile Carroll lines, begs for closed captions.

But do they provide captions in 3D? The technology, like in most films save for Avatar, is a largely pointless point-of-view in this film. Crap flying at the screen and the occasional molesting of perspective is completely tedious and ironically flat. Kids will enjoy it of course, and theaters can charge more for these screenings. Burton’s art, however, suffers under the cheesy device, which makes Wonderland all the more disappointing. Fans of Burton, like myself, will probably find the film enjoyable but certainly not very good; and probably better in traditional format. It’s always interesting to see stories (especially classics) through the director’s shadowy looking glass. But this time around, it seems Burton’s lens is just too ill-crafted.

Valentine’s Day is like the clown car of movies — everywhere you look another headliner pops out, and you’re left wondering how they all fit inside one film. But these clowns are more like Pennywise from Stephen King’s IT than Bozo, because the end result is a nightmare.

The film is high on concept, low on execution. It tracks the lives of countless Los Angelinos through one Valentine’s Day. Some are happily married, some newly engaged, some just starting out, some bitter, and some gay. Yes, Bradley Cooper is in a gay role! But don’t get too excited, because Marshall plays it for the shock value rather than a well-integrated storyline. More on that later.

Throughout the day, the umpteen characters all intersect in one way or another. For example, the guy in the mailroom (Topher Grace) is dating the sex-line worker (Anne Hathaway), who’s temping for the agent (Queen Latifah) representing the football player (Eric Dane) whose publicist (Jessica Biel) is friends with the teacher (Jennifer Garner) who is close with the florist (Ashton Kutcher). And that’s only about one-third of the cast. Everyone from Jamie Foxx and George Lopez to Shirley MacLaine and Jessica Alba make appearances.

To read the rest of Tim’s review, hop on over to Metro Weekly, where his article is currently running.

Tim Burton is a visual genius, but his vision of the Mad Hatter freaks me out just a bit. It’s hard to tell Johnny Depp is under all that accoutrement and Carrot Top hair. But like most Burton productions, Alice promises to be wonderfully twisted. I can’t wait.

As children, BFFs Liv and Emma come across a wedding at the famed Plaza Hotel. Instantly, the fraternal hair twins marry the idea of nuptials like that for themselves one day. Fast forward to adulthood and Liv is an effortlessly wealthy lawyer and Emma a humble elementary school teacher, each with their own uninteresting boyfriends. When Emma becomes engaged, Liv, in typical overachiever style, smells competition and corners her beau into proposing early. The two enjoy a fleeting camaraderie until it becomes clear they’re both competing for the same, solitary wedding slot at the Plaza. Neither are willing to budge, and a passive aggressive battle ensues.

It’s true that some of the stunts pulled in Wars are humorous at times, such as when Liv sabotages Emma’s visit to the tanning salon or when a hasty wedding announcement is sent. Underlying this horsing-around, however, are some pretty ugly hues of jealously, greed and materialism. Emma has a modest job, but saves for 16 years for the perfect wedding. Liv picks up a Vera Wang dress as if she was buying socks. This isn’t a movie to get excited about weddings, because the high-cost, altered reality here leaves little to relate. The grandeur of Sex and the City is one thing, but the glitz and obsessiveness for the perfect Plaza ceremony manifested in these quarreling kittens is quite another.

Often in a story like this there are crumbs of redemption and good feelings to leave the theater with, but not inBride Wars. In the end, the pair’s behavior and a particularly awkward turn at the end decimates any to-go feelings of love and friendship. So what you’re left with his a shallow Jerry Springer-like spectacle that is quickly forgotten, but marginally enjoyed because of how distant it is from reality. That, and Anne Hathaway. I find trying to dislike Hathaway as difficult as trying to fail PE in school. I can’t if I try, even if she is scaring husbands-to-be and putting dangerous thoughts into impressionable minds of young girls. Hating on Hudson is another story. Like her last few movies, Wars is another blimp on her growing, unimpressive resume. The movie as a whole obviously doesn’t help, and neither does starring opposite Hathaway. In the battle between the two leads, Hathaway clearly comes out top. Fittingly, at one point in the film Emma says, “I’m literally running circles around.” I couldn’t have said it better.

Films about weddings are undoubtedly full of extravagance and a focus on “stuff”, but many just manage to skirt around completely selling off all of their feeling. Bride Wars divorces itself from any emotional material, and is purely focused on material emotion. While the film strives for feeling and relevance on friendship and marriage, it ironically butchers both with its slimy methods.