#ndposting

The Kuni no Alice series brings about what I think is the best modern interpretation of Alice I’ve yet to see in any media I’ve consumed. She’s quick-witted and brings the attitude, but she cares. Her reactions are realistically absurd and there are few moments throughout everything where she feels out of character or unrelatable. And I think the otome genre is crucial to why that is.

By nature, dating simulators don’t have strong protagonists. They’re supposed to be a blank canvas for the player to project onto to achieve their goals. Am I calling Alice flat? No, quite the opposite. Her story is set in a Victorian-inspired fantasy land with lots of guns and danger and a strict social structure, but it’s intended for a modern audience, and when connection with your protagonist is the key to connection with your story, a modern audience means a modern Alice.

The modern Alice is one of the hardest characters to write.

In most instances of an adapted, cool, edgy Alice in Wonderland, the most insufferable character on screen is, in fact, Alice. This is true of the Disney films, SyFy’s Alice special, Once Upon a Time in Wonderland, etc. More often than not, Alice Kingsleigh, Hamilton, whatever you want to call her, is a young adult frustrated by life in an oppressive society who will only accept her if she acts in a hyper-specific way, usually at the risk of being institutionalized should she fail to comply. She argues with her parents, who want her to get married, and all of this turns her into a spiteful girl who is always on the defensive.

It’s insufferable to watch.

The character of Alice is too often portrayed as relentlessly mean, but under the guise of empowerment. The audience is tired of weak-willed women, so the director hunches Alice’s dress up passed her ankles and gives her a sword, an attitude, and an ugly man to kiss without her parents’ involvement. Biologically engineered to shatter every well-known gender role established in Victorian England and basically nothing else, movies and TV deliver their “strong female protagonists” in the form of a curt, unchangingly rude version of Alice whose words and actions are supposed to be justified by her circumstances. And god, does it fucking suck!

You can't connect to this Alice, this armed and ready, sharp-tongued, "curiouser and curiouser" Alice who lives in a world that practically clears a narratively untouchable path to every foot she plans to step on. Personally, it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. The misunderstood to confused, to disgruntled, to aggressive pipeline is overplayed to the point where the Alice of any and all modern interpretations has become, essentially, the same character, forced to loop the same 6 emotional plot points from now into eternity, no matter how many coats of science fiction you put over it.

(Yes, there is a part of me that understands this comes from the fact that Alice is most often written by money-hungry, corporate studios, led primarily by men, who do not understand feminine audiences, or how they want to see themselves represented in media. I get that. And Alice Liddell is not safe from that. But consider: she's my babygirl.)

Am I saying the character of Alice can't be mean, can't say fuck, can't have a sword? Of course not!!!! Give women swords!!! But I am saying that every time a director phones it in with that "Oh, I know that book" budget and gives a British blondie trust issues, a prophecy, and a quirked up, top hat-wearing sidekick to have unfulfilling sexual tension with, i lose my wings AND my marbles.

Enter: our Alice Liddell.

What do we have with her, really? Well, the protagonist of a mid-shelf otome game, which has sequels out the wazoo, a movie and 2 stage play runs, but still somehow only enough translated media to fill a single Barnes and Noble shopping basket about halfway. Thanks QuinRose.

But for real.

Alice Liddell is written, from the ground up, as an otome protagonist. As such, there are narrative must-haves that she can't shake. She needs to be relatable to the modern young adult, even if she's supposed to reflect the Victorian female experience. This would usually be the Achilles Heel of an adapted protagonist: you, the player, get to watch in horror as your favorite whimsical Main Girl is watered down into a bowl of nothing soup for the sake of projection and selling more copies of a game with eye candy catboys and toxicity glorification.

HOWEVER,

(stay seated girlies don't go yet)

This necessary mundanity that is baked into Alice's character, inseparable from her very being as the taste of weed in a brownie, is what singlehandedly saves this adaptation and makes her objectively the best. Unlike in a lot of cinematic adaptations, she's not meant to be the (failed) vehicle of a "deeper narrative" about the strength and roles of women in society. She doesn't exist for any higher purpose, she isn't the chosen one who will declare "Damn The Man" and force the world to listen.

Alice is a girl doing everything she can. She's experienced profound loss. She's self-deprecating. Snarky. She's been through break ups, gotten even with bullies, cuddled with her cat on a Sunday, everything that doesn't matter. The crux of her character is that she's been burned by life and love, yet she can't truly give up on them. Hers is a story of healing, of adaptation and getting back up when life kicks the shit out of you. No matter how sharply she speaks, Kuni no Alice's Alice almost always acts from a place of concern and love for others. She crucially never wields a weapon, reacting to the violence of Wonderland with that extremely jaded "holy fucking shit, what the fuck?" energy that I think any of us would bring to the table, given the circumstances. She's not her community's """lunatic,""" she's not sailing the high seas sideways, she's not on drugs, or destiny's favorite, or anything like that. She's new in town! She's sick of these people! She just wants to go home and read!

She's you. She's me. She's a clusterfuck of a damaged girl, trying to sort out what matters, find her passion and move forward without letting her past stray too far from memory. She's someone whose self-importance and perception by others is foreign to her. She wants to matter, wants not to be left alone by the people she loves, but god forbid she ever admit it.

QuinRose gives us Alice Liddell, suffering failgirl, not Alice Liddell, conceptual landmark, and that was the best possible route anyone could have taken with this character. Alice is the main character, but she is not a hero, and that's a fucking genius move.