It’s unfortunate when we bring the kids to the theater and we, the adults, are bored to tears. Sitting there, yawning, or worse, dozing off. Only the kids are having fun.

This is the case with REP’s Alice in Wonderland, which closes this weekend, 13 and 14 December, at its new home, REP Eastwood. It opened in August, and I brought my 10-year-old niece — who is also named Alice — to see it.

When we came out of the theater, she was all praises. I wish I could say the same.

As expected, the musical reimagines Lewis Carroll’s absurdist fantasy through Repertory Philippines’ Theater for Young Audiences (RTYA). Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865) and Through the Looking-Glass (1871) are literary works about containing disorder, with emotional and existential undercurrents, later rendered visually dazzling but emotionally safer in the 1951 Disney animation.

REP’s version uses the licensed stage musical adaptation by Janet Yates Vogt and Mark Friedman, who also wrote the music and lyrics. It was directed by Joy Virata, with Cara Barredo eventually taking over after Virata’s sudden health issue.

Technically, the production is polished: flawless blocking, precise lighting, clear diction and strong singing. But it is soulless. This happens when craft eclipses impulse — too controlled, too clean, too mechanical.

Alice feels like a museum staging — well-crafted but trapped within prescribed beats, leaving no room for true creative revelation. Design, lighting and choreography are near-perfect, yet you sense the performers serving the cue sheet more than the moment.

It’s colorful, high-concept whimsy with pageant construction. There are performers who are dressed like blooming flowers similar to the costumes used by Gideon Hermosa in his grand events. Mosaic-like flats and geometric platforms create a living kaleidoscope. There is total design unity, plus Justine Narciso as Alice is flawless.

But again, this is a joyless production — worlds apart from REP’s previous children’s show, the emotionally immersive Jepoy and the Magic Circle. 

Vogt and Friedman’s music even sounds canned, recalling 1980s to 1990s American children’s television and commercial jingles. Every scene change feels like a cereal commercial waiting to happen. None of the songs stick or stir emotion — and on that point, my niece and I agree. The music sounds straight out of Hi-5 or Barney & Friends: relentlessly upbeat, tuneful and polished, but predictable to the point of sameness.

When a production is overly polished or aimed at being “safe for children,” performers often armor themselves in precision, hence losing emotional connection. It becomes too safe, too rigid, lacking vulnerability, elements of surprise or spontaneity. Just prettiness.

Adding to the bloated runtime, I couldn’t wait to leave. But every time I looked at Alice, my niece, she was completely immersed. Her joy was more infectious than anything happening on stage.

Bring the kids, sure — but feel free to doze off.