there's been some debate [ polychromatic
[nick / name]: Haku
[personal LJ name]: whisperedtones
[other characters currently played]: Rukia // Bleach // wingstock
Conrad // Chronicles of Chrestomanci // iseemore
Peter // Chronicles of Narnia // oshutup
Emma // Glee // peopletalktome
Peter // Heroes // justdoingmyjob
Yvaine // Stardust // shiningdown
[e-mail]: loveinmypocket@gmail.com
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[series]: ALICE IN WONDERLAND [Tim Burton's, 2010]
[character]: Alice Kingsleigh
[character history / background]: Daughter of Charles and Helen Kingsleigh, sister to Margaret Kingsleigh, Alice Kingsleigh is nineteen years old when the real-time of the movie begins, though we see her when she is younger speaking with her father before that. Said scene establishes that this is the Alice of Wonderland (Underland, technically), and exhibits a closeness between Alice and her father that is notably absent when we cut to the present. It is, of course, absent because her father has passed away, but in addition to that it should be noted that Alice lacks any sort of distinct connection to her mother short of trying to decide how much she wants to please her. Mother and daughter are on their way to a garden party of sorts--lavish on the Ascot's estate where it is made known to Alice that Hamish Ascot intends to propose. She is, in simplest terms, not too pleased about it, but everyone seems to be pushing her toward that singular end. From Hamish himself in his doddering way to his mother (embarrassing only a little more than he already does for himself), to twin gossipers who parallel the Tweedles, to her own mother, and at all of that, really, the entire party seems to expect it even if they do not specifically approach her about it. A matter of time and place, it makes sense socially that Alice say yes, but Alice has not made sense for a very long time, if in her own easily dismissed way, and this is no exception. Before the proposal, however, all the conversations that lead up to it are minutely significant in their own ways. From showing that Alice will never see eye-to-eye with Lady Ascot to her almost familiarity at least with Lord Ascot, to her discovery of her sister's husband's infidelity, to her own sighting of a rabbit, they play their roles, if coming to a head only later on.
Back to the present, or skipping there, in front of the entire party she does not yet refuse Hamish but she does ask for 'a moment', which she takes to chase after the rabbit (previously told she imagined it, she obviously did not) and, as expected, falls down the rabbit hole.
Alice goes through the matter of the Pishsalver and the Upelkuchen (the drink that shrinks and the cake that makes one grow, respectively) and the key until she walks out into Underland, coming in first to a garden area, which is a faint way of streaming her reality and this separate adventure together. She meets with the White Rabbit--Nivens McTwisp--and the Dormouse--Mallymkun--the Dodo Bird--Omaque Umpqu--and the Tweedles. There is some discussion over her being the Alice, and though McTwisp is quite certain he's found her at last, there is too much disagreement (especially since she does not appear to remember the way of doing things the first time and to call it a dream) and they take her to The Caterpillar--Absolem. He shows her the Oraculum--a scroll, a compendium really recording in visuals the history of Underland from birth and onward--in which there is the figure of a long-haired champion taking on the Jabberwocky. This, Alice is told, is the Frabjous day that awaits them all, the day she will slay the Jabberwocky, and at this she denies that it is her, that it could be her at all. Then the Knave of Hearts shows up and everyone disperses due to that and the accompaniment of the Bandersnatch...except Alice who, banking on it being a dream, stands her ground. She is rather mad for doing it, really.
It manages a scrape on her arm with ease and she sets off running as if jolted from her own illusion though this is only partially the case. While she tries to find her way the Tweedles assist until they are stolen off to the Red Queen's castle, at which point Alice is of course left on her own. This continues presumably until she runs into the Cheshire Cat who in amongst his riddling feline ways does do her some good by getting her to the Hatter, that being Tarrant Hightopp and the others of the 'Mad Tea Party' such as the Dormouse, and the March Hare. Tarrant is joyed to see her, but Alice treats him as a mix of stranger one is not sure of and dream one is not sure one wants to be sure of, insisting again when the matter of the Jabberwocky comes up that she is not the Alice they are looking for, though when the Hatter says she has lost her muchness, she seems unsettled enough to infer that she thinks this is more real than she wants to let on. Events proceed, in which Alice learns of what has become of Underland with the Red Queen taking over and exiling the White Queen far and away, however in this explanation the Knave appears again and Alice is saved by the Hatter who gives himself up as distraction so that Alice might get away. The size of a mouse, she cannot do much on her own, but when the dog Bayard finds her, she convinces him to take her to the Red Queen's rather than off to safety. She has decided to save Tarrant, and this is the first indication--the first clear one anyway--that Alice may not believe her own pretense about things being dreams alone, or perhaps at least that dreams too can be real.
Upon arriving she confers briefly with McTwisp who gives her more of the Upelkuchen, but she eats too much bringing her to seven feet in height. This ends up serving to her advantage, however as the Red Queen, impressed by her size, admits her unto her Court. Alice uses the name here of Uum from Umbridge, and it works. For a little while.
"A little while" is also easily written as "long enough", a time in which Alice not only finds Hatter--though she does not manage to free him personally--but by way of returning the Bandersnatch's eye (previously stolen by the Dormouse who relinquishes it to Alice) allies herself with it enough that it allows her in, which lets her obtain the Vorpal Sword--taken by the Red Queen from the White. She returns to Tarrant and the hat making room he has been afforded for a while when the Knave enters, and this time the Dormouse lets slip Alice's real name, which ends, as one might imagine, in a lot of hurried disarray. The Knave tries to kill Alice--unsuccessfully obviously--but she escapes on the Bandersnatch along with Bayard, leaving Tarrant and the Dormouse behind, not happily either, but they too have something in the works to save them and a must is a must.
Alice arrives at the White Queen's current abode, acquiring new clothes, proper size, and a personality to keep her company who is whimsical like Underland appears to emphasize but also strangely to-the-point. The White Queen tells Alice she cannot be made to take up the Vorpal Sword, but must choose to. This echoes the bulk of what Alice's story is about, whether in Underland or England. With the Frabjous day approaching, and the White Queen still without her champion, even the return of Tarrant and the other prisoners is only a temporary relief, and when expectant eyes turn to Alice much like at the gazebo, she runs again, overwhelmed. Absolem speaks with her again and though the is still conflicted on what is real and what isn't, on what to do to get home and what to do about staying, she appears to have gotten something out of it, as upon the Frabjous day, she is there in shining armor astride the Bandersnatch. She is, if little else, determined and it is said that the Vorpal Sword knows what it wants and that Alice need only get it there.
The armies of Red and White meet and battle while Alice takes on the Jabberwocky as best as she can, using six impossible things to get her through it in her own Alice way, a list only but a list that matters because these impossible things are, in Underland, entirely the opposite, including the last, which is that she can in fact do as the Oraculum shows: she slays the Jabberwocky and thus wins the battle for those allied with the White Queen. With the Red Queen banished--along with the Knave--Underland is on the precipice of a new freedom and all is well.
Except that Alice must go home, and as much as she has come to accept Underland for more than a dream, she also knows that home has its own truth too. She has unfinished business--literally in one sense--and there is yet something of the same stubbornness and pride that has brought her through this strange, fantastical land again that wills her to return to the ordinary earth and sky. She can manage there too, it almost seems to say. Noted should be her lack of hesitance when leaving, her choice clear, but there is the feeling of not wanting to have enough time to think it over in her quickness as well, and nothing is ever wrapped up so neatly whether a dream or a reality. It is up to this point that is relevant for Alice in this case, as she would be taken from the point of saying goodbye to Underland and drinking the blood of the Jabberwocky--which is her way home, obviously.
[character abilities]: Nothing supernatural to speak of, and though she does indeed slay the Jabberwocky, it is fairer to say that her skill with the sword is a situational requirement fed by fear, adrenaline, and stubbornness than it is an all-around, could-be-used-at-the-drop-of-a-hat ability.
[character personality]: The core of Alice's personality is a braid of stubbornness, a stubbornness that comes out as somewhat uppity and uncalled for and at other times seems completely necessary to not only who she is but the story she must carry through. At the beginning of the movie it is affected by a feeling of being cornered into a life she does not connect with and at the end it is defined by her decision to force her way out of said corner, not through a backdoor but through the front--unashamed and as candid as you please.
Throughout the course of the movie, that stubbornness manifests in a majority of hesitation and a minority of self-propelled action. Proud, but uncertain of what she wants and thus what path to take in her waking and accepted reality, this tendency to teeter on the edge of decisions without making them follows her into what she calls Wonderland (actually Underland). She spends most of her time, very nearly up until the Frabjous day itself telling herself that everything is a dream, even when certain actions of her own imply that a sleeping part of her feels rather differently about the world through the rabbit hole. A bit of a contradiction, on that note, despite insisting that she must be dreaming, she takes initiative to save the Hatter from the Red Queen, begging the obvious question: if it is a dream, why does it matter--saving him or not saving him? Alice acts on impulse and feeling, something instinctual in a way, and she reasons at one point that it may be a dream, but it is hers, which is just another way of admitting to having some measure of control and wanting to do something with it---something she lacks in her 'waking' life, so to speak. Some of this initiative is greatly masked by how much time it takes Alice to decide to do things and it can easily be misconstrued at first glance as some mild form of passiveness, but Alice is not passive so much as an unexpected combination of distinct outer action and time-testing internalization.
If her father had not died there are certain differences that are undeniably likely. For one, she would not feel the need to resist so many things because there would be that One Person to accept her so-called madness. She does not need validation so much as a safe harbor where she does not blend in to fit but stands out and that is acceptable. To her father, Charles Kingsleigh, it was and that being a truth she carried with her from a much younger age--the age she first visited Wonderland, later actualized as Underland--if she had not had that taken away from her, it isn't that she would be vastly different as far as choice--i.e. she would still, I believe, refuse Hamish. But her method of handling it would be different. Instead of taking a great deal of time and by taking time truly gathering control into her own hands in the only way she knows may be remotely possible, she would probably have a more clearly cut confidence, enough to say no outright rather than run away first to buy said time and come back later all decided. All that said, her father did die, and her familiar corner of truth disappeared, making her dreams of "Wonderland" make her feel closer to the bad sort of mad and, as looks to be the general line threading beneath her story, makes her feel like she hasn't got a choice, which is simply unacceptable to her sensibilities--as we find out in the end.
Though brave enough, and capable enough, it is important to look at this incarnation of Alice--despite sword-wielding, Jabberwocky slaying success--as a girl cornered by her society as much as she is cornered by Underland's expectations that she will indeed become their Champion and, as read in The Oraculum, free the land. The movie is by no means a subtle parallel, sometimes simply though purposefully placing Alice in a scene of too many onlookers who 'want' something particular of her when she is not at all certain she can manage to provide it, or, more importantly, that she wants to. This may be rather selfish, considering an entire land is at stake, and Alice is not stupid, which explains something else of the 'this is a dream' line, because who really wants to believe they are singlehandedly responsible for the saving or failing of a kingdom? Not Alice, but again this does not keep her from coming through. Running back to what she begins as though, even before the movie, when she is just a girl in a world of constraints, her choices are important and her manner of handling them even more so. She has a candor about her that can be skewed by how long it takes her to utilize it, but when she chooses any one thing there is a conviction that speaks both of being too familiar with patronization (receiving) and of that previously, repetitively mentioned stubbornness (her anchor) that roots her down through her dreams. This is not a particularly shining, heroic picture of a girl, but that is partially the point. Alice is Alice is Alice, and no other can take her place, true, but that does not automatically transform her by situation or location into something more than that. Not hardly, not almost, not barely will do, and neither will more, or so one gets the feeling with the way the characters emphasize these specifics.
And Alice couldn't agree more, which reads as a combination of things--youth, some selfishness, pride, a naive hope that she can be who she wants to be and still manage to carry on without uprooting everything and everyone around her, so on and so forth.
[point in timeline you're picking your character from]: Just as she decides to go home, drinking the proffered blood of the Jabberwocky (yes, ew...)
[journal post]:
[ A girl appears like a blink in the middle of the air only to tumble down into a couple of awkward somersaults across spring green grass. Blond hair tousled and half snagged in her armor, she lifts herself to a sitting position just in front of the device now capturing her and lets her arms then drop, her hands layered in her lap like a sigh. ]
Well this isn't right---not at all. Am I to suppose I have fallen into another dream on my way to waking up from the first? Or perhaps that it was no dream at all and this is the actual product of my slumber?
It hardly seems reasonable.
But that's not altogether unexpected now.
[ She actualizes her sigh this time, frowning as well and standing with the clink of the armor that shines---all silver sunlight with angles and edges---and moves with a strangely comfortable ease of her smaller motions, like the tilt of her head as she peers up at the sky. ]
Or it shouldn't be.
[ A backward step has her stepping on the device, which sends crackling through the network and some feedback no doubt, but does not turn it off completely, only shifting it to audio. ]
[third person / log sample]:
Many times, Alice dreamt of Wonderland, but she had been so young in the dreams and it was easy to pretend that it was easy to call them 'just' dreams. Just. As if that could explain things away the same as sweeping dust under a rug might make that go away. Piffle. But she had tried in her own way, and attending that dreadful party had been a part of that effort, however half or quarter hearted. In all the world, only her father had made her feel like she could belong in that earth place after such an unearthly adventure--and it had been an adventure, dream or not when she thought about it more through her years and into nineteen. She thinks it is an adventure now too, though she got the name wrong, and names being important, she commits this to memory even as Tarrant tells her something terrible.
"You won't remember me."
What an awful thing to say, she thinks, feels, knows, but part of her thinks he is saying something else too. (He is always saying Something Else.) She responds the only way she can, replies with that flair of insistence that, in some worlds, in some moments, can sometimes oust one truth for its own. Alice tells him he is wrong, though not in those words exactly, and perhaps like Tarrant, she says Something Else as well, though even Alice herself cannot put her finger upon that something. Her armor, much like her face, the bones of her body, the muscles and so on is much less worse for the wear than it ought to be, and there is that nagging question mark in her head, that ever unresolved thing: see, a dream. But she brushes it off. Maybe in certain cases, an adventure must be both a truth and a dream to happen at all.
She tells herself she will remember because she has never forgotten before...not really, not truly.
Her leftover responsibility does not so much drag her back as it might have before the Frabjous day, before she made something of exactly what she had to offer, but it pulls at her certainly---a magnet that solicits her presence with some undeniable force. That may be the Jabberwocky blood helping it along, of course. Things to do, though not impossible, still color themselves as unusual, and off the top of her head, Alice knows at least three of them amount to worse rebellion than not wearing a corset. Loosely, she hopes her mother will not be too disappointed. Theirs is not a love like she had with her father, but it oughtn't be, really. A mother and a daughter serve one dynamic while a father and a daughter serve another, and somehow they and her sister, the four of them once made a whole, but now the mother and daughter must make do without the fourth. Her sister too, but she has that husband of hers (speaking of responsibility!) She must speak with him, though perhaps not in the way she might have wanted to not so long ago. No, she will be clever enough, forward enough, and for everyone to see. It helps when people see and it is so rare when they do, but she will make sure. Underland has reminded her more sharply of her experience in seeing and being seen, and it is not so bad if one knows why it is happening and what to make of it. And there is poor Hamish, strange-faced for all that he fits in the way his parents would like him to, but she will no sooner lie to him now than she would have before, though before she would not have known how to handle it. Now, she thinks she just might. How grateful she is, she finds, for Wonderland truly Underland and what she found there, and it is an almost sad gratitude, but there is happiness too (frabjousness, possibly). Sad, happy, sad, happy, sad...and Entirely Bonkers.
(But all the best people are.)
Traveling backwards as if this had never happened at all, thrust into a pre-moment moment, she promises herself again (promises them) she will not forget. If she forgets, she resolves in the breaking apart of shadows and light and dreams and reality, then she is not Alice, and that, if few other things, they have at least established is precisely what she is.
Alice. No more. No less.
That will simply have to do.