He’s back, but he’s different. When Johnny Depp Alice Through the Looking Glass hit theaters in 2016, people expected the same high-energy, orange-haired lunacy from the first film. They didn't quite get it. Instead, we got a story about trauma. A story about a man literally fading away because of a broken heart and a missing family.
It was weird.
The sequel, directed by James Bobin instead of Tim Burton, took a massive pivot from the 2010 billion-dollar predecessor. It wasn’t just a visual feast; it was a character study wrapped in a time-travel headache. Depp's performance as Tarrant Hightopp—the Mad Hatter—became the emotional anchor of a movie that, frankly, many critics didn't know what to do with at the time.
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The Emotional Core of Johnny Depp Alice Through the Looking Glass
Most people think of the Hatter as just a collection of quirks. The lisp. The mismatched eyes. The frantic dancing. But in this film, the "madness" is actually depression. It’s heavy. Depp played the character with a fragility that felt almost uncomfortable compared to the first movie’s vibrant insanity.
The plot kicks off when Alice (Mia Wasikowska) finds the Hatter in a state of "un-madness." He’s gray. He’s dying. He found a tiny blue hat—the first one he ever made—and it convinced him his family survived the Jabberwocky attack. Nobody believes him. Alice doesn't believe him. That betrayal is what actually drives the narrative.
It’s interesting how Depp chose to play the physical deterioration. He didn't just use makeup; he changed his posture. He became smaller. While the first film was about Alice finding her "muchness," this one was about the Hatter losing his. Honestly, the stakes felt way more personal than just "saving Wonderland from a dragon." It was about saving a friend from a mental breakdown.
Dealing with Time and Sacha Baron Cohen
You can't talk about this movie without mentioning Time himself. Sacha Baron Cohen played Time as a literal person—a demi-god with a clockwork heart. The chemistry between Cohen and Depp is fascinating because it’s so antagonistic.
They’re both masters of physical comedy.
In the tea party scene, where Time shows up and the Hatter starts making "time" puns, you can see the improvisational energy. It’s one of the few moments where the movie feels like the classic Lewis Carroll nonsense we expect. But even then, there’s an edge to it. The Hatter is desperate. He’s mocking Time because he’s terrified of him.
Why the Critics Were Wrong About the Performance
When the movie dropped, reviews were... mixed. Some called it over-saturated. Others said Depp was just doing "Depp things." But looking back, that’s a pretty shallow take.
If you look at the nuances, he’s doing something quite difficult here. He has to bridge the gap between a cartoonish fantasy figure and a grieving son. The scenes where he confronts his father, Zanik Hightopp (played by Rhys Ifans), are actually heartbreaking. There’s a specific moment where the young Hatter presents his father with a hat, and it’s rejected. The look on Depp’s face? That’s not "Disney acting." That’s real vulnerability.
People also forget the sheer technicality of the role. The makeup process for the Hatter took hours every single day. The lenses he wore were huge and uncomfortable. Yet, he still managed to convey a wide range of emotions through all that "stuff."
The Visual Evolution of the Hatter
The costumes, designed by the legendary Colleen Atwood, tell their own story. As the Hatter gets sicker, his clothes lose their color. His hair loses its orange fire. It’s a visual shorthand for his soul leaving his body.
- The "Sick Hatter" look: Pale skin, dark circles, muted fabrics.
- The "Flashback Hatter": More traditional, Victorian-influenced attire before he went fully "mad."
- The "Recovered Hatter": A return to the vibrant, clashing patterns that represent his true self.
The production design by Dan Hennah complemented this perfectly. The Hightopp village, seen in the past via the Chronosphere, provides a grounded, almost Dickensian contrast to the surrealist landscapes of the present-day Underland.
The Controversy and the Box Office
We have to be real here: the movie didn't perform like the first one. Not even close. Alice in Wonderland (2010) made over $1 billion. Alice Through the Looking Glass made around $300 million.
Why the drop?
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Part of it was "sequel fatigue." Part of it was the six-year gap between movies. But there was also a lot of external noise. At the time of the release, Johnny Depp’s personal life was all over the headlines due to his divorce from Amber Heard. The timing couldn't have been worse for a whimsical family movie.
But if you strip away the tabloid drama, the movie holds up better than people remember. It’s more coherent than the first film. The theme of "you can't change the past, but you can learn from it" is a lot more sophisticated than the standard "hero kills the monster" trope.
The Chronosphere and the Mechanics of Underland
The Chronosphere itself—the device Alice steals to travel through time—is a masterpiece of prop design. It looks like something Jules Verne would have dreamt up. But its function in the story is what matters for the Hatter's arc.
When Alice goes back, she realizes she can’t prevent the tragedy. She watches the Hatter's family get taken. This is a huge realization for the audience: the movie isn't about a "fix." It’s about acceptance. When Alice returns to the present and tells the Hatter she saw them, she gives him the one thing he needed: validation.
He wasn't crazy. He was right.
That moment of validation is what brings his color back. It’s a powerful metaphor for how we treat people struggling with their mental health. Sometimes, they don't need a "solution"; they just need someone to believe their reality.
Practical Insights for Fans and Collectors
If you’re a fan of Johnny Depp Alice Through the Looking Glass, there are a few things you should know about the production that rarely get mentioned in standard PR blurbs.
First, the voice of the Blue Caterpillar (Absolem) was Alan Rickman’s final film role. The movie is dedicated to him. The scenes between Alice and the butterfly version of Absolem carry a much heavier weight when you realize he passed away shortly after recording his lines.
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Second, for those interested in the craft, the Blu-ray commentary by James Bobin is a goldmine. He explains how they tried to move away from the "all-CGI" look of the first movie by building massive practical sets at Shepperton Studios. They actually built the streets of London and parts of the Hatter's village to give the actors something real to touch.
What you can do now to appreciate the film more:
- Watch the "Behind the Looking Glass" featurettes. Specifically look for the costume design segments. The detail in Depp's "ribbon" bandolier is insane when you see it up close.
- Compare the two performances. Watch the 2010 film and the 2016 film back-to-back. Focus on the vocal register. Depp uses a much higher, breathier tone in the sequel to indicate his physical weakness.
- Read the original Lewis Carroll book. Just be warned: the movie has almost nothing to do with the plot of the book. The book is a series of chess-themed vignettes; the movie is a high-stakes time-travel drama. They are two completely different beasts.
- Listen to the score by Danny Elfman. It’s one of his most underrated works. He takes the "Alice Theme" from the first movie and twists it into something much more melancholic and urgent.
The legacy of this film is complicated. It’s a sequel to a movie everyone saw, but it feels like a movie very few people truly understood. It’s loud, it’s bright, and it’s chaotic. But at its center, there’s a very quiet, very sad performance by Johnny Depp that deserves a second look. It reminds us that even in a world where cats vanish and queens have giant heads, the most important thing is still just being seen by your friends.
If you haven't seen it in a few years, give it another shot. Ignore the reviews from 2016. Look at it as a story about a daughter trying to save her friend and a son trying to find his father. It hits a lot harder than you’d expect from a Disney "live-action" spectacle.