All the hype surrounding the new Alice in Wonderland film made me remember one of my favorite silent films; the 1903 version of Lewis Carrol's first novel. I have a soft spot for silent movies - I try not to view them as quaint antiquities, but as snapshots of an era. These films recall a time when movies had a sacredness to them, a sense of novel mystique that there was such a thing as a moving picture. I love the earnestness and simplicity that is used to convey the story being told, and I love the way every shot looks like an in-motion version of dignified black-and-white photographs. Even the damage compliments the images - it adds another layer of ephemeral magic, as if warning the viewer that this specialness, this esoteric privilege, is fleeting.To me, this will always be the real Alice In Wonderland.