‘Twas Disney in its slithy realm Who thought a sequel they’d create. So Tim Burton they asked to helm, And mouse and man did bloviate.
Beware the Moviecrap, my son! The script that stinks, the actors who suck. Beware Johnny Depp and shun Sacha Baron Cohen’s murky muck.
Burton took his producer’s sword in hand – Longtime a new director he sought. So rested he by the soundstage tree And pondered who could be bought.
And as if an amateurish dolt he sought: James Bobin, with brain so lame, Came crapping through the turgid plot, Lewis Carroll imitation but a game.
Action, cut! Action, cut! And through and through His subpar direction went snicker-snack. He left quality dead, and with it threw The whole CGI mess on the editor’s back.
“And has thou done thy very best, Shown wonder and magic and the Cheshire Cat?” Burton begged Bobin to confess. “No,” brayed Bobin. “This flick fell flat.”
And though the film be pretty in contortions Proceed, oh audience, with utmost dread, For cinematic logic and proportion Have fallen sloppy dead.
2 out of 5 stars
This article appears in Jun 1-7, 2016.