Braddy in Wonderland

So have you all seen Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland?

Holy Harry Belafonte, I HATE this movie.

I really don’t know why I’m writing about Alice in Wonderland so long after it’s come out. By this point, most people already have their opinions formed about the movie, so I doubt I’m going to change anyone’s mind. I just barely saw it, though, and I feel motivated – nay, compelled – by the deep, abiding love I hold towards the original Lewis Carroll books to speak.

That, and it’s been a while since I’ve had a good angry rant about something. I think I might develop acid reflux. I don’t think I’ve ever been so delighted that I hated a movie, because now I just get to unload.

If you just watch the movie without actually LISTENING to any of the dialog, you may notice that it LOOKS a whole lot like what Alice in Wonderland should look like. And, make no mistake, the visuals are fantastic. Every character looks perfect. Yes, I know the Mad Hatter is just Johnny Depp in another bizarre and slightly effeminate costume, but I think it’s a good look for the CHARACTER, if you can forget about the actor. The Queens look brilliantly strange – and I actually think I like Anne Hathaway’s mincing princess look over Helena Bonham Carter’s bloated head effect (more on that later, though).

The problem, though, is that the film sounds like it’s embarrassed by its source material. The original Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (and its sister novel, Through the Looking Glass) aren’t so much structured narratives as they are a romp through the craziest nursery rhymes you’ve ever heard. Most of the famous sequences from the original novels are explicitly structured after nursery rhymes – like Tweedledum and Tweedledee or the Queen and Knave of Hearts. Even sequences that aren’t explicitly from nursery rhymes have a nursery-rhyme feel. Think of the Mad Hatter and the March Hare stuffing the Dormouse into a teapot, then think of Peter Pumpkin-Eater – see what I mean?

The minds behind the new Alice in Wonderland seem to think the movie should be more “mature,” not all caught up in this nursery rhyme nonsense. They even go so far as to change the name: Alice is now having adventures in Un-derland, not Won-derland. “Look,” they say subtly, “we changed the name so it’s DARK now. This isn’t your sissy kid’s book – this is DEEP.”

Actually, I think most of the problems with Alice in Wonderland can be summed up by just complaining about the NAMES of things. It seems a silly complaint, but I find it deeply symbolic (and, besides, when you’re talking about Alice in Wonderland, a little silliness SHOULD be right at home).

The movie gets the names of EVERYTHING all wrong, and there’s no greater evidence of that than the way the poem “Jabberwocky” is used in the plot. In the original novels, “Jabberwocky” is a nonsense poem Alice finds in the Looking-Glass world – and that’s it. The genius of the poem is in the way the words IMPLY meaning without actually meaning anything. Take a look at this:

‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Half those words don’t actually mean anything, but they FEEL like they do. You can imagine what something “mimsy” would be like. Personally, I think of milkweed, but that’s just me. Even when Humpty Dumpty (if you’re playing the nursery rhyme drinking game, you can take a shot now) explains the meaning of the words, he REMAINS vague – a “tove” is “something like a badger, something like a Lizard, and something like a corkscrew.” The truth is, the meaning is completely irrelevant – it’s all about the delicious sounds and the images they create in your head.

The Burton flick, though, takes all these strange, wild words and ties them down to explicit meanings. I NEVER thought the Bandersnatch looked anything like that great shambling dog-muppet from the movie, nor did I imagine the Jubjub bird looking quite like that. The Jabberwocky… well, that looked all right, but there’s a pretty famous illustration of the beast that they’d probably be crucified if they strayed from.

But still, they got the NAME of the creature wrong (and yes, even I’ll acknowledge that this is a petty complaint). The POEM is called “Jabberwocky.” The MONSTER is called “Jabberwock.”

The “Frabjous Day” bit is the BIGGEST offender here, though. In the original poem, even though we don’t know what “frabjous” means, it’s obviously an exclamation of delight. “Frabjous day” is said in the same way someone would say “happy day.” It’s NOT some foretold future event. The Alice movie turns the poem into a prophecy about the “Frabjous Day,” which I found tragic. When you attach a definition to the poem, you weigh it down to the point where it can’t move anymore – and that’s a shame, because the poem used to dance.

The film ruins most of the original elements from the book by endowing the nonsense names with significance. Then, they continue to mess things up by trying to create nonsense names that have the same strength as Carroll’s originals. The problem, though, is that the words they come up with are just STUPID. They assign names to the juice Alice drinks to shrink and the cake she eats to grow – and I can’t for the life of me figure out why. These items lasted 150 years without names, and they sure didn’t need names now, especially not ones that sound like something a six-year-old came up with while trying to recreate the complete works of Robert Jordan – uninteresting and completely forgettable. Seriously, I don’t remember what they even called the darn things, so why include the names.

And the Hatter’s dance at the end of the movie… I think they called it “Funterwaggin” or something like that. The entire time, though, I thought of someone committing unspeakable atrocities with a Radio Flyer, which is NOT what the film intended, I’m sure.

Strangely enough, though, it’s the names that remain true to the original story that bug me the most – simply because they now feel out of place in the story. I mean, sure, they CALL that thing in the green hat the Mad Hatter, but he moves and acts a whole lot more like Aragorn from The Lord of the Rings.

Let’s beat that comparison some more. Alice is Frodo, the Red Queen is Sauron, the White Queen is Galadriel, the Tweedle Twins are Legolas and Gimli, and the Dormouse is Reepicheep.

I know that last one’s from Chronicles of Narnia, but… screw you.

Speaking of Lord of the Rings, there seems to be some rule now that every big fantasy flick has to end with an epic battle. Now, I like a big fight as much as the next guy (actually, considering my favorite storytelling medium regularly involves men in spandex punching aliens who are shooting them with guns loaded with bears wielding chainsaws, I probably like a big fight MORE than the next guy). Battles, though, are more appropriate in works like Lord of the Rings and Narnia, when the whole story is told DURING A WAR.

Now, there is a bit of war imagery in Alice in Wonderland. Still, the biggest fight in BOTH books is over a broken rattle. That’s it. Lewis Carroll’s work didn’t NEED a big dumb fight because the story was more about the innocent explorations of a child, which often lead into nonsense. Get rid of the nonsense, and you have Alice talking to herself for two hours.

“We can’t have that,” say the producers, “so let’s have her be the prophesied warrior that delivers the land from darkness. Why not?”

I’ll tell you why not: because THAT’S NOT ALICE IN WONDERLAND. You take the nonsense away from Alice in Wonderland, and it turns into… The Once and Future King, apparently.

And, yeah, ALL the nonsense is gone. Every little bit of nonsense from the original source material is explained away, rationalized. The Cheshire Cat doesn’t just “disappear,” but he’s “good at evaporating” – which makes me think there’s a course at the local community college for that. The Hatter’s not mad “just because,” but he’s driven to madness by the Jabberwock’s attack (and, frankly, for a “Mad” Hatter, he seems pretty lucid most of the time). Even the Red Queen’s bulbous head is explained away as a birth defect.

I could go on (ask me sometime about the Knave of Hearts, I dare you), but I’m writing this late at night, and I have work in the morning. Let me sum up like this: Tim Burton’s adaptation of the J.R.R. Tolkien epic fantasy The Lord of the Rings somehow showed up to my birthday party wearing a “My Name Is Alice in Wonderland” sticker. When it noticed the mistake, it chose instead to pretend it actually WAS Alice in Wonderland and pranced around, talking in a high squeaky voice, little noticing me shake my head and sigh, because I know the REAL Alice in Wonderland, and boy is she going to be embarrassed.

Oh, and it forgot to bring me a present. Shame on you, Lord of the Rings. Shame on you.

Daily Sketches - Greatest Hits

4.20.10 - I think this guy's equal parts disturbing and cute. I named him "Li'l Tormented."

4.21.10 - I can't say exactly why I've wanted to draw a tarot reader for so long, but I have. I finally got around to it.

There's a lot I don't like about this picture, but the hair is not one of those things. It's stylized - far from realistic - but I like it anyway.

4.25.10 - These are lumberjacks.

And that's okay.

4.27.10 - I guess I like a little bit of Belgian humor.

5.1.10 - I've decided I need to do a bit more research for my sketches, so I've taken to sketching from photos a bit more.

On the left, we've got Pat Benatar. I've found myself wanting to draw Pat Benatar a lot recently, and I'm not quite sure why.

On the right, we got one of the guitarists from Fall Out Boy. Really, I just wanted to draw the guitar. I bet you can probably tell that the photo cut the guy off at the knees.

5.2.10 - I'm making more "research sketches" so I do more sketches with props. That way, I'll be able to put out more sketches like the above.

Admittedly, this isn't a great picture. The chick's head is way too big, her hair's a bit strange, and I don't think I knew what I was doing when I drew the monitor.

But the guitar doesn't look too bad, does it?

5.3.10 - Another "research sketch" I think it looks pretty good... as long as you ignore how much the cello's neck curves.

Writing and History

Last night at the Conference Center in Salt Lake City, author and historian David McCullough addressed a gathering of the National Genealogical Society. I went to the event, not because I have a huge fascination with family history (I don’t), but because my dad had an extra ticket. So my options for Thursday night were to go listen to a historian talk about genealogy or vacuum my apartment. It was close, but I decided the family history thing would be SLIGHTLY more interesting.


I kid (a little). Actually, I’ve had my eye on David McCullough’s books for a long time. They’re on my perpetually growing list of “Things I Will Read Once I Start Taking Time to Read Again.” I’ve never actually picked the books up, though, because reading history texts is HARD. History’s a pretty broad subject (or so I’m told), and the author’s goal generally seems to be to get as much information across as possible, making the actual chore of reading a history text the equivalent of chopping your way through an Amazonian jungle with a Barbie Dream Kitchen© plastic knife.

Now, the Family History portion of the presentation was adequately engaging. I heard some great stories about what some people have found in their past (specifically, I was struck most by a woman whose grandmother or something gave birth to six children while under quarantine on a leper colony), but not a whole lot of… anything… to inspire me to change my life. Then, after about 45 minutes of other presentations, David McCullough got up to speak…

… and I’ve never regretted not having a pen and paper as much as I did right then.

I went in to the whole McCullough presentation with a completely different lens than most. I really don’t care much about family history work. I mean, I KNOW it’s important work, but I’m pretty sure it’s important work that “someone else can take care of just fine without my help, thank you.” I went to the presentation as a writer, a composer of narratives… a storyteller. And that’s where they got me.

McCullough spent a bit of time discussing the process that goes into his writing – and that little aside was probably more valuable than anything else I’ve learned in the past couple of years. At the start of every project, he says, he knows very little/nothing about the subject he wants to write about. Everything he writes, he learns pretty much as he writes it. The man wasn’t really an expert on John Adams, then, until AFTER he wrote his biography.

Writing is all about discovery. “Curiosity is what distinguishes us from cabbages,” McCullough said. (Well, that may not be what he ACTUALLY said, but I didn’t have a notepad with me then, so I didn’t write it down). The creative act is an act of learning and growing. It cannot come from what the artist already knows, but what the artist is LEARNING, and what he is excited to be learning.

I’ve heard similar sentiments expressed before, especially in the composition of poetry. Last weekend, at the Utah State Poetry Society’s Spring Festival, I heard poet Lance Larsen speak about the act of writing poetry. He said (and I’m paraphrasing again), “If you set out to write a poem with the entire piece already in mind, you will fail. When writing poetry, you have to be surprised by what you write.” A poem is discovered in the writing of it and not a moment sooner.

Part of the reason I’m writing this blog now is to unpack what I learned last night about the importance of research – or, to phrase it a bit less dryly, the thrill of discovery. I try to be one of these “artsy creative types” – mostly through poetry and drawing right now. I feel, however, that I’m stagnating – especially when it comes to writing.

Now I feel like I’ve got some direction, and that direction is backwards. I’ve always had an interest in history (I minored in history in college), but I almost never take the initiative to learn about history on my own. I plan on changing that – get some research done, not so I can passively “be smarter,” but so I can feel the excitement that comes from finding something hidden, something I’d never seen before.

And the first book I pick up will probably have McCullough’s name on the spine.

Daily Sketches - Greatest Hits

4.10.10 - I find I'm much more satisfied with my sketches when there's some type of "scene" being played out, so I really do try to create scenes more often than just draw people anymore. I'm pretty much rubbish at drawing furniture, but I suppose that'll come with practice.

(Although it might help if I actually had some furniture... hmmm...)

4.11.10 - I don't draw old people nearly as much as I should... and it's kinda satisfying to try.

This is pretty much exactly what my fourth grade teacher looked like, by the way.

4.14.10 - I seem to be a bit obsessed with school scenes... I think this is my third one.

For the most part, this is a pretty terrible sketch. I don't like the way the people look at ALL, and the proportions are way off. And check out the pencilneck in the left corner!

Still, this is easily the most complex sketch I've done to date. For that reason, I call it a highlight.

4.16.10 - What do you mean, "What is this supposed to be?" It's a guy in a suit with no shoes kicking a troll doll in the face. Duh!

4.18.10 - I haven't quite figured out how to draw a face or head from this particular angle, so the girl in the chair is definitely NOT my favorite... but look at all the other stuff! I even drew her shoes NEXT to the chair where she's sitting.

The scenery is based loosely on my parents' basement, which is why you can see the window well just outside. (Collective exclamation: "Oh, THAT'S what that's supposed to be!")

4.19.10 - And this is just me baiting my sister-in-law into calling me a misogynist again.

Musical Woes of Braddy the Bass

Music’s a topic I don’t talk about nearly as much as I should – specifically, my own music. I don’t play any instruments (unless you count the three months of piano lessons I took back in second grade), and I’m no composer (except for that one song I wrote after I broke up with my high-school girlfriend, which is appropriately angsty and complete rubbish). Still, I’ve always LOVED singing.

In fact, my love of music may be the only reason I do any type of theater AT ALL (and this includes every play I’ve been in over the past two years and my involvement with The Jesters Royale). I started auditioning for plays after my voice instructor at Utah State University encouraged me to go for a role in Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. I started taking voice lessons because I missed the experience of singing before an audience. My first vocal performances were back in junior high and high school where I had excellent teachers… who probably connect with Kevin Bacon somewhere along the line.

As much as I love singing, though, I’ve never been incredibly fond of my own voice. I’m very much a bass/baritone – which is fine, I guess. We low-singers don’t generally get much love from other composers, though. Solos aren’t ever really written for basses unless they focus on the high-end of our register, and, when singing in ensemble, we generally get the plodding foundation rather than any of the fun stuff. We’re the tubas of the vocal performance world.

Above: Self Portrait

Now, there are a few low voices out there that get a lot of respect. I mean, a LOT of respect. For example, there’s Barry White:

Isaac Hayes:

And that guy that sings “Old Man River”:

These men are talented and influential musicians all, but they also have something in common that I don’t have. If I’m honest (and I have to be – the Bible says so), then I must admit that I am not, in fact, black, but rather white as newly fallen Norwegian snow.

You know who else is a skinny, kinda awkward white bass?

Do people still talk about Rickrolling? I hope not. Maybe then, we’ll all take a minute to recognize Rick Astley for the musical genius he is.

Daily Sketches - Greatest Hits

I'm now three months in to my resolution, and I haven't missed a day yet!


3.25.10 - I said once that drawing fat people is fun. I stand by that assertion.

This character is pretty much a copy of my "Greed" character back when I did the Seven Deadly Sin Sketches... only she's wearing a dress.


3.28.10 - This isn't my first attempt at drawing a child, but it is the first I consider a success. She actually looks like a child... although I'm not sure what exactly she's doing. I think she's technically hopping backwards.

Either that, or she's running, and her right leg is REALLY long.


3.31.10 - Reason #486 why The Jesters Royale are awesome:

If you weren't there, you have NO idea what the deal with this is about.


4.2.10 - Drew this guy while running sound for the Jesters one night. So I had zero light and very little focus... and I love what I came up with.

Also, he's got a little fan. How cute.


4.3.10 - I'm still not great at drawing women, but I keep at it. I wanted to draw a rockstar-type chick (something along the line of Pat Benatar). I think I did okay - despite this chick's long arm.


4.4.10 - To prove I'm serious about learning to draw, I decided to imitate some of the finest artists of history and draw something from Greek mythology. So here's Atlas.

On an unrelated note, I'm no good at drawing muscle... yet.

In the Darkest Corner of the Hundred Acre Wood

So… Tim Burton’s got an Alice in Wonderland movie in theaters now. I’ve been pretty worried about how the film was going to turn out, mostly because Alice in Wonderland is probably my second-favorite children’s book of all time (the top favorite being Through the Looking Glass). Now, I haven’t actually SEEN the movie yet, but that’s never stopped me from having an opinion about something before, so… here we go.

Alice in Wonderland ORIGINALLY was about a little girl having strange adventures in a land where the conventional sense of logic is completely turned on its head. Her journey is more a celebration of childhood fantasy than anything else. One thing it certainly ISN’T, though, is an action-filled, hair-raising epic quest in the same vein as Lord of the Rings.

I’m not sure how Burton and Company handle all the action and combat. For all I know, they do it quite well. It bothers me, though, that a property as ubiquitous as Alice in [Freaking] Wonderland seems to require a total tone shift to get a foothold in today’s movie market. Now, I think there’s room for this type of adaptation, but when you take a story and add intense violence to create a more action-centered experience, you run the risk of destroying what people loved in the first place.

Imagine if next summer’s big action-packed blockbuster had THIS trailer:

The sun rises over the forest line. It’s an ominous red, indicating that a fierce, bloody day has come to the Hundred Acre-Wood.

Zoom in on Winnie the Pooh, who is walking along a forest path. The camera circles around him as wild chirping noises rise from the trees along the path.

Suddenly, a Woozle jumps out from the bushes – mangy, raving, with long sharp teeth and jagged claws. Pooh freezes in fear and mutters, “Oh, bother,” before he is savagely beaten down.

Cut to Piglet, running frantically into Rabbit’s sitting room. “Pooh’s been k-k-kidnapped by Woozles! Oh, d-d-d-dear!”

Cut to a ceremonial site atop a hill. Pooh is tied up to a tree, bits of stuffing hanging out from his tummy. A large Woozle chief stands over him in a warpaint and an ornamental headdress. “We will have our revenge against the forest creatures,” he snarls, “when we awaken… the Heffalump!”

We hear the Heffalump’s cry – sort of a mix between an elephant’s trumpet and the wail of a hundred crying children, as the monster breaks down the forest wall and enters the clearing. It’s huge, like the elephants from the Lord of the Rings movies, only bigger and with more horns and tusks.

Cut to Owl, silhouetted against a full moon talking to a young boy. “I’m too old now!” the boy protests. “I can’t go back.

Close up on Owl’s face. “It’s a perilous time for the entirety of gentle animal folk, and we need you more than ever… Christopher Robin.”

Christopher Robin raises his head (and we see now he’s played by Michael Cera). “Silly old bear,” he says as he shakes his head.

We hear Pooh’s voice: “First they attack my friends.”

Cut to the battle. Enraged Woozles swarm around Kanga and Tigger, each armed with a pair of swords. They suddenly spring into action, bouncing high over the heads of their enemies and raining down bladed death upon them.

Pooh’s voice over continues. “Then they destroyed my home.”

Cut to the Heffalump, now attacking Owl’s great tree. Splinters of wood fly in all directions as the proud forest tower is brought down to the ground.

“But now,” says Pooh, “they’ve threatened my honey stash.”

Now we see Christopher Robin, backed into a corner, his sword held shakily in front of him. Pooh and Piglet cower behind him as the shadows of enraged Woozles start to creep in.

And now we cut to Tigger, flecks of stuffing poking out from slashes across his face. He stares down a large Woozle and roars like the mighty tiger.

Pooh stares at the camera, mud smeared across his face. “This rumbly in my tumbly is now a cry for vengeance!”

The title of the movie flashes now across the screen: Winnie the Pooh and the Battle for the Hundred-Acre Wood.”

Cut to Christopher Robin holding a cowardly Piglet. “We need everyone to be brave now, Piglet,” he says, “even you Very Small Animals.”

Coming to Theaters May 2011.