Alice spends much of the film in a state of undress or domestic reflection, yet she holds the intellectual power. She deconstructs Bill’s ego with ease.
The genius of the fusion lies in the protagonist’s dual identity: the name “Fidelio” (meaning “faithful”) merges with “Alice” (the quintessential curious child). This character is not a traditional Amazonian warrior; she is an odyssean trickster. Where a typical male hero might storm the castle, Fidelio-Alice adopts a strategy of infiltration and observation. She dons the disguise of a guard (Fidelio), but she retains Alice’s essential trait: asking “Why?” When the Red Queen demands irrational croquet with flamingos, Fidelio-Alice does not simply comply or rebel violently; she studies the rules until she finds their inherent absurdity. The essay’s central argument emerges here: By treating the dictator’s orders as Carrollian nonsense rather than divine law, Fidelio-Alice breaks the psychological spell. When she finally confronts the jailer (a composite of Pizarro and the Knave of Hearts’ accusers), she does so not with an army but with a mirror—forcing the tyrant to see his own ridiculousness. Fidelio- Alice-s Odyssey