The standard evaluation of this short stop-motion animated film, "Jabberwocky," other than those who, perhaps wisely, throw up their arms in bewilderment, seems to be that besides the introductory recitation of Lewis Carroll's words it has little to nothing to do with the poem. But, I think it has more do with its literary source than do other "Jabberwocky" inspired movies, namely Terry Gilliam's "Jabberwocky" (1977) and Disney's 2010 "Alice in Wonderland," both of which were concerned with rendering the poem's plot. How utterly dull and obtuse of them. Better to do what Humpty Dumpty did in "Through the Looking Glass, and What Alice Saw There," by explaining the enigmatic poem full of nonsense words by further obfuscating it in perhaps added connotations. That's essentially what this disciple of eggheads, a surrealist animator and admirer of Freud and Carroll, Jan Svankmajer, does here.
Early on, we're treated to some familiar images for Svankmajer, including a cupboard, with its opening doors, and insects infested in food, both of which parallel nicely with the imagery of his later, feature-length "Alice" (1988) film and the books' motifs with doors and consumption. I suppose the central narrative, however, if one can claim anything here to be a "narrative," involves a mirrored, dream-like critique on the societalisation of children, like Alice. The child, first represented by the backside being spanked, comes to be depicted by the dolls. Small dolls are borne from bigger dolls, bells ring, they play house, cook and are cooked up, are ground up, ironed out and put in their gilt cage. All the while, some bearded figure of patriarchy sits atop the wall looking onward as the scarecrow son of a boy's outfit dances about the room before going off to war with toy soldiers. Eventually, children's attire is replaced in the cupboard by the suit of conformity. This is far more Carrollian than most other supposed adaptations of the Alice books, or the films of Gilliam, let alone Disney.
Forget the lessening lessons; give them something clever in pictures and amusing nonsense to play with. That's what Carroll did and so, too, Svankmajer. The line trying to get out of the maze, which upon each failure to do so is punished by the black cat knocking over the toy blocks is the highlight.
Early on, we're treated to some familiar images for Svankmajer, including a cupboard, with its opening doors, and insects infested in food, both of which parallel nicely with the imagery of his later, feature-length "Alice" (1988) film and the books' motifs with doors and consumption. I suppose the central narrative, however, if one can claim anything here to be a "narrative," involves a mirrored, dream-like critique on the societalisation of children, like Alice. The child, first represented by the backside being spanked, comes to be depicted by the dolls. Small dolls are borne from bigger dolls, bells ring, they play house, cook and are cooked up, are ground up, ironed out and put in their gilt cage. All the while, some bearded figure of patriarchy sits atop the wall looking onward as the scarecrow son of a boy's outfit dances about the room before going off to war with toy soldiers. Eventually, children's attire is replaced in the cupboard by the suit of conformity. This is far more Carrollian than most other supposed adaptations of the Alice books, or the films of Gilliam, let alone Disney.
Forget the lessening lessons; give them something clever in pictures and amusing nonsense to play with. That's what Carroll did and so, too, Svankmajer. The line trying to get out of the maze, which upon each failure to do so is punished by the black cat knocking over the toy blocks is the highlight.