Ever since the first Planet of the Apes film in 1968, in which astronaut Charlton Heston landed on a futuristic Earth being run by super-evolved apes, the idea has become a sci-fi staple, breeding a string of sequels, spin-offs and TV series. Tim Burton remade the original flick in 2001, but despite enjoying commercial success, it was viewed with contempt by Apes cognoscenti.

Broadway musicals can have a bumpy transatlantic crossing. For every New York entry that repeats its acclaim on the West End, others quickly fade, while still others never make it to the capital at all: consider The Light in the Piazza, which won six Tonys in 2005 but hasn't yet been seen in the UK south of Leicester. What, then, of Shrek, DreamWorks's entry into the Broadway musical sweepstakes that called it quits in New York after little more than a year? It's way too early to tell whether London will prove the show's salvation, but at least it boasts two Nigels who between them are not to be missed.

It’s a quirk of the acting profession that someone can fly under the radar for years and then suddenly be catapulted into the limelight. Nigel Lindsay's impeccable record in contemporary plays at the Donmar, Almeida and Royal Court has left all but keen theatre-goers with only a dim sense of his distinctive profile. He is currently performing his most high-profile role yet - unless you count the doltish white Muslim jihadist Barry in Four Lions. But one thing will not change. To play the grouchy Scottish ogre in Shrek the Musical (in which he's been coached by his old mate David Tennant), Lindsay will spend 90 minutes before every performance having prosthetic make-up applied. When he walks out of the stage door, the junior hordes won’t know him from the doorman.

It’s a quirk of the acting profession that someone can fly under the radar for years and then suddenly be catapulted into the limelight. Nigel Lindsay's impeccable record in contemporary plays at the Donmar, Almeida and Royal Court has left all but keen theatre-goers with only a dim sense of his distinctive profile. He is currently performing his most high-profile role yet - unless you count the doltish white Muslim jihadist Barry in Four Lions. But one thing will not change. To play the grouchy Scottish ogre in Shrek the Musical (in which he's been coached by his old mate David Tennant), Lindsay will spend 90 minutes before every performance having prosthetic make-up applied. When he walks out of the stage door, the junior hordes won’t know him from the doorman.

Robin Rhode’s animations are pure pleasure; there’s perfection in their simplicity. They are so perfectly tuned, so light on their feet, that one simply wants to enjoy them; but because they are multilayered, they offer more than momentary pleasure. Rhode was born in South Africa and, in many ways, he is the Banksy of Johannesburg. In the late 1990s he began using the scruffy walls of the city as a canvas on which to make drawings which he describes as a “dreamscape to the impossible”.

The appeal of fat, foolish, good-hearted panda Po (Jack Black) as a cartoon action hero is predictably diluted in this sequel. A fully trained and socially accepted martial arts master by the original’s end, he offers Kung Fu Panda 2 less pathos and originality. It compensates with spectacular 3D set pieces, cute and ferocious animals and gentle humour finely tuned to children’s tastes.

This remarkable 1988 adaptation of Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland opens with Alice addressing the audience. “This is a story for children,” she tells us, before adding a teasing note: “Perhaps.” And that “perhaps” is worth noting, for Jan Švankmajer’s Surrealist Alice is full of cruel and violent incident.

Paring the story down and dispensing with many of its most memorable characters – the Duchess, the Mock Turtle and the Cheshire Cat among them – the story becomes a disturbing duel between Alice and the White Rabbit. We first encounter the creature not hurrying across the lawn, but as a stuffed ornament in the corner of her cluttered bedroom, its protruding eyes and loudly clattering teeth suggesting an animated skull.

In his gold-braided red jacket and top hat, the White Rabbit’s role as a sinister circus ringmaster corralling the action is continually undermined by Alice. It is Alice who steers the narrative, speaking each of the characters’ lines while the camera homes in on her mouth, momentarily suspending the action. By the end of the film, one gains an insight into why this innovative Czech avant-garde film-maker was banned from his craft by Communist authorities in 1972. The absurd trial near the film’s end is defiantly resisted as Alice refuses to read a pre-prepared script. At the film’s ambiguous close we see her relishing the prospect of revenge: she prepares to act as the Rabbit's executioner, thereby turning the tables on him.

Mixing inventive stop-action animation with a live actor and animals – hens, a squawking piglet, porcupines – the film is full of brilliantly choreographed animated sequences: bird skulls hatch from a boxful of eggs; a slab of raw meat jumps out of a pot and slithers across the kitchen top; socks burrow in and out of holes in a floorboard in a flamboyant dance; and a huge frog swats real wasps with its fat tongue. Meanwhile, sound effects are exaggerated – the insistent ticking of a watch, the sharp clanking of a threatening pair of scissors - lending the film its hallucinogenic quality.

Immersing us further into dream-logic are Alice’s constant physical frustrations – the knobs of drawers always come off in her hand, and her miniature incarnation is as a tiny, helpless porcelain doll. Alice was Švankmajer’s first feature-length film, and this is the first time (with English subtitles) it’s been available for home viewing. If you’re a lover of alternative Hollywood directors such as Tim Burton and Terry Gilliam, you can see what influenced them right here in this supremely imaginative and eerie retelling of Carroll’s tale.

Extras include a nine-minute 1903 film of Alice in Wonderland, the very first film adaptation of the story, and Elsie and the Brown Bunnie, a humorous Cadbury advert from 1921, in which a giant "Bourneville" rabbit takes Alice as his guest to the Cadbury's chocolate factory.  

ALICE'S ADVENTURES ON STAGE AND SCREEN

Alice, Scottish Ballet. It should be a capital crime to attempt an Alice ballet - off with their heads

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Royal Ballet. Even the best butter would not help this plot-less evening

Alice's Adventures Under Ground, Barbican. Gerald Barry's crazy velocity berserks both Alice books in rude style

Alice in Wonderland. Tim Burton takes on the fantasy classic

Alice in Wonderland, BBCSO, Brönnimann, Barbican. A curious tale gets a riotous operatic telling from composer Unsuk Chin

Alice Through the Looking Glass. Mia Wasikowska (pictured), Helena Bonham Carter and Johnny Depp back in inventive if unfaithful Carroll sequel

Jan Švankmajer's Alice. The great Czech animator's remarkable first full-length film

wonder.land, National Theatre. Damon Albarn’s Alice musical has fun graphics, but a banal and didactic storyline

Overleaf: watch the trailer for Alice