After more than a decade since Alice’s last cinematic adventure, Alice in Wonderland 3 (2025) emerges as a triumphant return to the enchanting chaos of Lewis Carroll’s timeless world. Directed with a keen balance of whimsy and darkness, the film dares to ask: what happens when even Wonderland itself begins to unravel? The answer is a journey that’s both visually breathtaking and emotionally resonant, a fitting finale to one of cinema’s most imaginative fantasy sagas.

Mia Wasikowska reprises her role as Alice with the grace of someone who has grown alongside the character. Gone is the wide-eyed girl who stumbled through rabbit holes and mirrors; in her place stands a young woman tempered by time, weariness, and courage. Her return to Wonderland is not fueled by curiosity but by responsibility. Wonderland, after all, has always mirrored Alice’s own inner turmoil, and now both she and this fractured realm must confront the darkness that threatens to consume them.
The threat this time is not the fiery wrath of the Red Queen, but a far more unsettling presence: The Weaver. Shrouded in mystery, this antagonist is less a tyrant and more a force of entropy, pulling at the threads of Wonderland’s very fabric. As the world bends and tears, familiar landmarks warp into surreal nightmares. It is a clever narrative choice, making the enemy not just a villain to be defeated, but an existential unraveling that feels inevitable and terrifying.

Johnny Depp’s Mad Hatter, as always, is the chaotic heart of the story. His eccentricity is laced with melancholy this time, his riddles and laughter tinged with desperation. Depp imbues the Hatter with a depth that makes his bond with Alice more poignant than ever. They are two souls who, despite their madness and mortality, cling fiercely to the hope that Wonderland can still be saved. Their scenes together pulse with a bittersweet charm that elevates the film beyond spectacle.
Anne Hathaway’s White Queen continues to be the serene counterbalance, her elegance now shaded by fear as she too feels Wonderland slipping through her fingers. But it is Benedict Cumberbatch’s Cheshire Cat who steals many moments, his sardonic wit sharpened by the gravity of the situation. His voice work adds a spectral quality to the character, as if even the Cat knows his grin might fade forever.
What makes Alice in Wonderland 3 remarkable is its ability to weave together fantasy spectacle with deeply human themes. The collapsing Wonderland becomes a metaphor for memory, imagination, and the inevitability of change. Alice’s struggle to preserve this world mirrors our universal longing to hold onto innocence, dreams, and the places that once made us feel safe. It is a story that speaks as much to adults as it does to children.

Visually, the film is a triumph. Each set piece feels like a painting sprung to life, from forests stitched together by glowing threads to skies fractured like stained glass. The shifting arenas of The Weaver’s influence—voids of unraveling fabric, palaces of collapsing light—are both awe-inspiring and terrifying. The film’s use of color and scale creates an atmosphere where beauty and decay coexist, heightening the emotional stakes.
The pacing is deliberate, allowing space for reflection amid the spectacle. While earlier entries sometimes leaned too heavily into frenetic wonder, this finale finds a rhythm that alternates between dazzling set pieces and intimate character moments. It gives the narrative weight, ensuring that the climactic battles feel earned rather than excessive.
The score, swelling with both whimsy and dread, underlines the duality of the film. Playful motifs are twisted into haunting echoes, just as Wonderland itself twists under The Weaver’s hand. It is music that captures both nostalgia and finality, a reminder that every journey must eventually end.

When the final act unfolds, Alice is faced with her greatest challenge yet—not simply to defeat The Weaver, but to accept the impermanence of Wonderland itself. The resolution is heartfelt and profound, offering closure not only for Alice, but for audiences who have journeyed with her across three films. It is an ending that lingers, neither wholly joyous nor wholly tragic, but honest in its beauty.
With a glowing score of ⭐ 9.3/10, Alice in Wonderland 3 (2025) succeeds as a spellbinding finale. It delivers spectacle, humor, and heart in equal measure, but more importantly, it gives Alice—and Wonderland—the farewell they deserve. This is not just another fantasy sequel; it is a love letter to imagination itself, reminding us that while worlds may unravel, the wonder they inspire never truly fades.