Online Response #5 - Alice

As a long-time lover of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Lewis Carroll’s other stories, the horror displayed in many adaptations bother me. A statement against rigid Victorian upbringings, political structure, and a reaction to Lewis Carroll’s life of mathematical order an inexplicable health issues, the chaos and nonsense depicted in the Alice stories is simply a reflection of real life. However, most modern interpretations push a horror or sexual element on the narrative, insisting that nothing could make so little sense and not be the product of a deranged mind. But when looked at closely, Alice’s reactions to everything that happens do not suggest any sort of confusion or horror. Rather, the nonsense depicted in the stories is a natural element of Alice’s imagination and the world she inhabits, and does contain a sort of order—though perhaps not an order immediately apparent to an adult mind. Jan Svankmajer’s Alice reflects the chaos of a child’s imagination, the way imagination is a means to experience, and the way a child can “link his imagined objects and situations to the tangible and visible things of the real world,” as Freud describes.

The design of Alice’s entire world is completely based on the “tangible and visible things” which Alice interacts with in everyday life. The infamous White Rabbit is made out of taxidermy display in her own home, whereas the Caterpillar is made out of a sock and some false teeth.  Though perhaps the reason this film comes off as surreal and creepy as it does, it is also the result of a child naturally reacting with the world around her. When Alice “wakes up” at the end of her adventure, she is just home again (though with tiny bits of evidence that something fantastic may have happened—namely, the rabbit is still gone). This is much like Winsor McCay’s Nemo in Slumberland comic strip. At the end of each installment there is a frame depicting was is “really” happening as Nemo has these adventures: he is in bed, usually in some sort of ridiculous position, evidence of his play. Nemo has combined the world around him (his bed and bedroom) with his own imagination in order to create what Freud calls “phantasying.” So, while sock worms might not make any sense to a rational adult, this combination of real-world objects and Alice’s imaginary nonsense is a great representation of child’s play.

Next, while it may not be rational, there is still an order to the world Alice creates.  The structure of Jan Svankmajer’s adaption follows a very specific pattern: Alice finds a drawer, pries it open, and is then somehow ushered into the next part of her adventure. The ink and tarts also are part of Alice’s manufactured order—they’re simple cause and effect.

The manufactured order of the story brings me to my next point: Alice’s adventure is, as we discussed in class, a means for her to gain experience and sort out her own goals, fears, and desires. Alice is undeniably resourceful, brave, and stalwart as she experiences all sorts of obstacles. In this reality, Alice always has a way to solve her next problem, such as a convenient bit of tart that can cause her to grow or shrink as needed. This story reflects Alice’s desire for control and bravery in a world which likely doesn’t make any sense to her.

Overall, it isn’t too much to think that a surrealist reality makes a lot of sense to a child such as Alice. The found-object design of the story, the manufactured order, as well as the way the story creates an experience for Alice, all reflect how Alice displays the chaos of imagination and psychological need it fulfills.