Oz, The Great and Powerful
Overall the movie itself is comparable to Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland. The basic storyline is similar (and similarly predictable): the reluctant hero gets thrown out of reality and into the fantasy world, where s/he is prophesied to save the land from a murderous villain. Then we have the characters: There's the reluctant hero who inevitably winds up saving the day (Oz and Alice), the pure-hearted monarch (dressed in white, no less) who needs a champion (Glinda and the White Queen), and the semi-sympathetic, shrieking villain who routinely wishes death upon everyone who dares cross her (the Wicked Witch and the Red Queen), as well as some CGI companions/comic relief.
However - and this is a big however - the biggest difference between Alice and Oz lies in their execution. This is going to sound blasphemous coming from such a die-hard devotee of Tim Burton's, but I actually thought that Oz, The Great and Powerful was better executed. The dialogue was snappier, the fantasy world was more spectacular and lively-looking, there was actually some racial diversity in the cast (although all of the main characters were white, some important secondary characters were black, which is unfortunately more than you can say for pretty much any of Tim Burton's movies except Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and even then it's dubious), and the use of actors and actresses other than Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter was actually kind of refreshing. I wouldn't mind seeing James Franco, Michelle Williams, Rachel Weisz and Mila Kunis in other roles.
Don't get me wrong, Alice in Wonderland and all of my other Burton favorites still hold a very special place in my heart that can never be replaced, but there's also a tiny part of me that wonders just how differently movies like Alice in Wonderland and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory would have turned out if they had landed in Sam Raimi's (the Oz director's) hands instead of Burton's.
To basically sum up my experience: I walked into the Oz movie expecting something lesser than or equal to my favorite Tim Burton movies, and walked out questioning my loyalty to my favorite director. The obsessive, nostalgic aspie in me still prefers Burton (because his movies were the last major special interest I had before I seemingly lost the ability to have special interests at all), but my inner movie critic prefers Raimi.