There’s precious little to keep you interested in this hideous-looking and busily boring shit-fest of a film that is both a nadir for director Tim Burton’s creative trajectory and emblematic of everything wrong with Hollywood in the early 21st century. Much muchness? Indeed. Alice in Wonderland is the cinematic equivalent of a priapism.
Hollywood’s most celebrated melodrama is still entertaining today. Vivien Leigh does a remarkable job playing one of the most volatile heroines in film history. Scarlet O’Hara begins Margaret Mitchell’s story damned spoiled, and I’m not sure she ever really learns her lesson, but Leigh renders a subtle transformation while always remaining true to character. My other favorites are Olivia de Havilland (sweet in everything she’s in), Hattie McDaniel (who deserved her Oscar), and Butterfly McQueen (for bringing a little comedy to the proceedings). I don’t get Leslie Howard as Ashley. For being the crux of the movie’s romantic triangle, I’d like to have known what was so darned special about him. Max Steiner’s music, especially the Tara theme, is among the most memorable ever composed for film.
I knew I would eventually have to watch this 3-hour 20-minute behemoth and thank goodness it’s over. Doctor Zhivago is a sprawling epic about the Russian Revolution as seen through the eyes of a doctor (Omar Sharif) who wants to have his cake (his wife is played by Geraldine Chaplin) and eat it, too (his mistress is played by Julie Christie). The first half is dense with plotting and myriad characters — I was getting pretty sleepy. But once Zhivago becomes an exile, I became more alert and the movie picked up speed. Still, when it was all over, I was underwhelmed. He loved two women, he inspired a nation, and I just didn’t care.
