Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (2005)

In the new Hollywood, “remakes” are passe. The new term is “re-imagining.” But we all know it really makes no difference what you call it. Sort of like when Disney brought out The Black Cauldron on DVD as part of their “masterpiece” collection despite its miserable failure in theaters over a decade ago: Pick a fancy new marketing term and people will fall for it, at least enough to recoup one’s expenses. With all due respect to Tim Burton, one of my two film-making heros, his “re-imagining” of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is uneven at best. Entertaining, yes, but not the flawless fantasy I had hoped for.

Most anyone who ever had a childhood is familiar with the story as found in Roald Dahl’s classic book: Charlie Bucket (Freddie Highmore), poor and innocent, lives in the shadow of the mysterious Wonka Chocolate Factory. Mysterious because no one has seen its owner or any employees enter or exit for years. Yet the factory manages to ship vast quantities of the best chocolate bars ever made.

One day, notice is posted that Willy Wonka (Johnny Depp) has placed five golden tickets in five candy bars somewhere in the world, and the finders of those tickets will receive a day-long guided tour of the wondrous factory. Charlie finds one, of course, or the story would be a complete drag. The other tickets are discovered by four nasty children, all equally selfish in their own ways: Augustus Gloop is a glutton, Veruca Salt is a brat, Violet Beauregarde is obsessed with winning, and Mike Teavee is a couch potato. They’ve all been hyped up just a little for the 21st century, but their literary roots are firmly in place.

On the appointed day, the children and guardians arrive at the factory, and the elusive Mr. Wonka appears and conducts the tour. The rest of the story is room after amazing room of candy-making fantasy, as well as horror as the four nasties meet consequences that are poetically just and potentially gruesome.

 

Popcorn

77%

There is no reviewing this new version without comparing it to the 1971 version featuring Gene Wilder as Willy Wonka. Some, of course, will be passionately devoted to the older film, never giving this one a chance. While I adore the old one, as a Burton fan I was quite willing to see what he had come up with. It is safe to say that my copy of the Wilder version has plenty of job security on my video shelf, even if the Burton version ends up alongside it.

In comparing the two, the overarching mood is the first thing that comes to mind. In 1971, Wonka’s factory was bright and cheerful (for the most part). There were very few darkened corners or threats. Wilder’s performance and even the music score suggested awe-filled wonder and excitement.

Tim Burton, of course, doesn’t know the meaning of unadulterated cheer – Wonka’s factory is bleak on the outside, menacing on the inside, shadows lurking in the corners. Danny Elfman’s music score reflects this from the beginning, with an opening title composition that would terrify any little child who even thought of sneaking into the factory after dark.

I don’t think either mood is “better,” just different. And frankly, I like the creepy tone of this new version. Roald Dahl’s books are horror stories when taken literally, and using the visuals and the soundtrack to suggest that the threshold of the factory is better left un-crossed is an interesting take on the material.

Fairy tales of long ago were often quite nasty, vivid stories designed to terrify children into obedient behavior. In this sense, Dahl is a modern fairy tale author. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is a morality play, teaching brutal, unforgiving lessons to its readers. And Burton, along with screenwriter John August (Big Fish), has brought this out in ways that make the 1971 version seem timid. I think of the scene where Veruca gets assaulted by dozens of squirrels who deem her a “bad nut” and drag her screaming to the garbage chute. This was replaced in the older film by a much tamer scene, probably due to the impossibility of animating squirrels. Now it’s back, and in the midst of all the color and imagination (and even the three other catastrophes), this scene felt particularly grim. There was no comedy at this point; only the tragic end of a spoiled brat. As, I think, Dahl would have wanted it.

The second comparison is in the portrayal of Willy Wonka, and here I will pull no punches: Johnny Depp’s performance is horribly wrong. For wanting to make it “more like the book,” Burton has allowed the centerpiece of the adventure to become a hideous error. I don’t say this just because I liked Gene Wilder, nor because of the endless comparisons of Depp to Michael Jackson. I did not think of Jackson; I’ve pretty much ignored him and his goings-on since his “Thriller” days. It is simply that Depp’s choice of character fails completely.

It is not enough to pick an eccentric character for Wonka; it must be the right kind of eccentricity. For starters, Willy Wonka is the confident owner of the best chocolate factory in the world. Why this nervous, flummoxed, irritating goonie? The answer on paper is that he had a bleak, tasteless childhood, and probably hasn’t had contact with humans since he closed the factory fifteen years ago. But that does not translate as well, I think, as Depp hoped it would.

In addition to being short and having frizzy hair (and who on earth agreed to let Depp wear that wig??), Wonka was a nimble, deft, spritely, and occasionally hot-tempered host in the book. For all the complaints about how the 1971 version departed from the book, I feel Burton's version departs more so because the departure occurs at the single most noticeable element. That’s not necessarily bad, if your new choice works. Depp’s portrayal of Wonka does not.

Having said that, let me say that the rest of the cast is superb. Freddie Highmore made a huge impression in Finding Neverland, and he does a great job here. He has a wonderful face for being that “nice little boy” that Charlie needs to be, and his delivery is excellent. David Kelly (Waking Ned Devine) makes a good Grandpa Joe. The four brats are well chosen, with my personal favorites being Veruca Salt (Julia Winter) and Violet Beauregarde (Annasophia Robb). Of the parents who oversee the children, Missi Pyle (Big Fish, Galaxy Quest) as Mrs. Beauregarde is my favorite, with her wide eyes and driven character. And then there is the fun of watching Deep Roy (Big Fish) play every single Oompa-Loompa.

 

Smarts

65%

Alex McDowell has created a factory that, despite its dark corners, is a marvelously vivid array of bright colors, very rich in its palette, pushing all the limits of color luminescence. Burton insisted on full sets instead of CGI creations so that the kids would have things to believably react to. Had he offered golden tickets to let people simply tour the finished soundstages, I would have been buying chocolate bars like mad.

In the script department: While there is the general adherence to the flow of the book, John August has made a pitiful mistake in creating a backstory for Willy Wonka. Hollywood has an unfortunately slavish devotion to The Screenplay Formula as expounded by people like Syd Field. The problem is that when you follow The Screenplay Formula, you get (surprise!) Formula. You get the same movie over and over and over. And over. (Raise your hand if you knew each of the plot points of Kingdom of Heaven before they happened. See?)

August has fallen prey to the delusion that “all significant characters must have identified backstories and motivations for their actions and dialogue.” While true enough for most tales, there are exceptions. But instead of letting Wonka simply be the enigma that the book presents, we are given a full explanation for who he is and why he’s weird. Bad enough, but the flashback scenes as well as the denouemente bring the story’s pace to a screeching halt for no good purpose; the backstory adds absolutely nothing important to our adventure.

“Yes, but it helps explain Wonka,” the executive producers cry. I don’t want Wonka explained. It would be like suggesting we add a few scenes to Mary Poppins, showing her troubled childhood as she grew up under the withering glare of some nasty headmistress at a school for au pairs. No, the beauty of Ms. Poppins is we don’t know where she comes from or why; and that’s the beauty of Dahl’s presentation of Willy Wonka. Lost completely on the formulaic training of John August, apparently.

 

Final

I’ve been heavy-handed, I admit, but only because I treasure the book so much, and because I expect better out of both Tim Burton and Johnny Depp. Let me balance it all out by saying I felt my money was well-spent; but I will gladly, fondly, and repeatedly watch Gene Wilder do his somersault on the front walkway long before I will go again to see Johnny Depp open his factory doors.