Has any children's book sparked so
much interest, and so many re-interpretations across so many forms of media, as
Lewis Carroll's 1965 novel "Alice in Wonderland" and its sequel,
published six years later, "Through the Looking-Glass?"
The first film adaptation hit screens
in 1903; since then there have been multiple Cineplex and television versions
of the story, with a forthcoming follow-up to the 2010 Tim Burton big-screen
version now in production.
On stage, the first musical version
of "Alice in Wonderland' went up in 1886; two operas, a ballet, and a
musical with song by Tom Waits (!!) all followed.
Now, Boston's own Andrew Barbato has
chimed in with his own musical, titled -- as was the Tom Waits-involved project
-- "Alice." The world premiere of the new "Alice" is
ongoing now through Nov. 16 at the Wheelock Family Theatre. The thumbnail
review is this: As with so many Wheelock productions, you can (and ought to)
take the kids to this one. And you don't want to miss it.
Barbato has clearly scrutinized Carroll's
books, but he's not slavish to them. There's a shift in emphasis, away from
Lewis Carroll's political satire and onto the question... or problem... of time
-- or, rather, a human awareness of time's passage, something that children
scarcely register but that weighs ever more heavily on adults.
This Alice (played by Maritza Bostic)
faces her thirteenth birthday with more than a trace of apprehension. Her
mother (Leigh Barrett), a laced-up Victorian sort, experts Alice to behave as a
proper young lady and entertain the guests at her party with a piano recital.
Alice isn't so sure about going from child to young woman instantaneously, and
as a function of the calendar; she determines to run away. Cue the white rabbit
(Stephen Benson), the plunge down the rabbit hole, the Cheshire Cat (Julia
Talbot), and all manner of elixirs that expand the mind, enlarge and shrink the
body, and make doorways of opportunity into splendid gardens (or tragic
wastelands) either possible or not.
Seen from a child's perspective, the
world of adults is unfathomably arbitrary, not to mention inexplicably
convoluted and obscure. Barbato holds on to that sense of things being askew,
but streamlines the narrative so that the Cheshire Cat puts in more than a
cameo appearance (she's actually more of a guide in this version) and Alice's
goal -- to find her way into the fabulous garden of the Queen of Hearts
(Barrett, doing nicely symbolic double duty), by way of the Queen's fancy party
-- is more easily traced.
Familiar episodes abound, but they
have been given a different twist to fit into the new thematic thrust. Tweedle
Dee (Dashielle Evett) and Tweedle Dum (Noah Virgile) appear as brothers
reluctantly compelled by their masculine pride to settle differences by means
of combat -- even though, like Alice, they seem to want to hold on to childhood
a bit longer.
A murine boatman (William Gardiner)
ferries Alice around, the Caterpillar (Elbert Joseph) lounges on a staircase in
an imaginatively staged manner, the Frog Footman (Jenna Lea Scott), armed with
twisty logic, guards the gateway into what might be considered domesticity and
motherhood, and -- of course, because this just wouldn't be Alice or Wonderland
without it -- the Mad Hatter (Russell Garrrett) and March Hare (Jane Bernhard)
host their tea party, narcoleptic Dormouse (Merle Perkins) their eternal guest.
But always there's the underlying
sense that Alice is slowly coming to terms with impending adulthood; after all,
she can run away from home, but she cannot escape the clock, and its ticking
follows her at every turn.
That's not the play's only audible
element. This is, after all, a musical, and Barbato proves to be a talented
songwriter. He's prepared about 30 songs for this play; they fit the material
as well as the script, with its carefully judged tweaks to the source material,
does. In an early song, Alice and her mother both lament that they need
"Another Person's Life"; while shipboard with the mouse at the helm,
Mouse and Alice engage in a duet called "Sea As Our Guide," a deft
shorthand evoking the act of faith that growing up is in and of itself.
When the terrifying Queen of Hearts
-- lopper of heads, erratic tyrant and ultimate mother figure -- finally grants
Alice entree to her garden, the two duet on "Paint the Roses Red," a
paean to transformation that touches upon fertile physicality as much as on
intellectual maturation.
In one way, this "Alice" is
a generally faithful adaptation, despite some quite striking departures; in
another, however, it's an updated re-imagining that speaks to a 21st century
audience while identifying new elements of universal appeal. No need to update
the character -- Alice is still a little Victorian girl, and it would have been
crass to re-cast her as a contemporary American.
What's fresh and exciting is how the
play understands that even plugged-in, tech-savvy modern children, their
iPhones and other devices in hand, speak the timeless language of children and
view the world from a stature different from that of adults -- a stature in
flux, allowing the world to be in flux, also.
