Wonka Lacks Imagination, Pure or Otherwise

W illy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory (1971), starring Gene Wilder, probably gave lots of kids nightmares, but it certainly captured the wacky, wild weirdness of Roald Dahl’s 1964 book. I’ve had a fondness for both the book and the old movie for many years, so a commercial for the new Dahl spinoff, Wonka, caught my eye. Since it promised to be a mostly fresh idea rather than a rehash of a classic film, my interest was piqued. And since the focus was the genius candymaker of every child’s dreams, I betook myself to a movie-theater screening and settled in for a colorful ride.

Director Paul King takes us back in time, filling in the gaps before Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory and giving us a bit of Wonka’s backstory. We get a tiny smattering of childhood flashbacks (complete with the lovely presence of Sally Hawkins as Wonka’s mother), but the movie mainly focuses on Wonka’s struggle to establish himself as a successful candymaker. Carefree and optimistic, our hero tries to make his way in the big city, only to find himself rapidly bereft of money and opportunities. Even worse, he’s snookered into indentured servitude by the wily Mrs. Scrubitt and her slimy sidekick, Bleacher.

Cue the ragtag band of rebels, the pitiful orphan, the loving-but-dead mother, three evil chocolatiers, and a corrupt cleric (played to perfection by the inimitable Rowan Atkinson), toss in a few songs, kick up your heels, and you have a dazzling piece of eye candy.

But like candy, its flavor is fleeting, and it can leave you feeling a bit sick.

Wonka is awash in brilliant costumes and fantastic set pieces. Massive cathedrals, fabulous confectionary shops, and exotic zoos are each explored in turn. Viewers are treated to flocks of flamingos and enormous vats of melted chocolate. All of it, though, whizzes by in a blur. Not because the viewer is tired, but because the camera shots are very rapid, often spinning around or jumping from moment to moment with little lingering. It’s frustrating to watch a movie filled with so much detail but be unable to focus on it and feel blurry-eyed throughout.

One could also go blurry-eyed watching Timothée Chalamet, with that curly hair, those clear eyes, that chiseled jaw . . . oh sorry. . . . Ahem. As I was saying, Chalamet certainly has the energy of Dahl’s beloved chocolatier-magician. He bounds around the screen, whipping up delectable treats, milking giraffes, and escaping down manholes. Dahl’s Wonka is a weird, mysterious character, one whose piercing gaze and unruffled monotone Gene Wilder’s characterization captured so vividly.

Chalamet also tries to capture this Wonka weirdness, but it often comes across as only mild quirkiness. It also didn’t help him that the movie couldn’t decide if it wanted to be a musical, a farce, or a comedy, but he made the best of it. It’s not a bad performance, mind you, but it’s not an inspiring one. Even less inspiring, though, was Calah Lane, who plays Noodle — another of Mrs. Scrubitt’s servants. Noodle is, supposedly, an orphan, and although she is cute, she puts no pathos behind her words. Neither her wonder nor her cynicism comes across well, and her lines fall flat, earning her little sympathy despite her sad history and dreadful living arrangements. My apologies, Lane. You were badly served by the script.

If Noodle is disappointing, Olivia Coleman’s Mrs. Scrubitt steals the show. Nasty smile, beady eyes, fabulous accent — Coleman plays the vile Mrs. Scrubitt to the hilt, and you can see she enjoys it. The leering and sneering are endless, and her character’s one weakness is delightfully consistent. Goodness wins out in the end, as it should, but watching Coleman, and Tom Davis as Bleacher, snarl their way through the film is deeply entertaining.

Excellent as Coleman’s and Davis’s performances are, the other major aspect of the film, its music, is dreadfully disappointing. The 1971 version is simply stuffed with earworms; the Oompa Loompa songs are the stuff of legend, and “Pure Imagination” is still covered by famous artists today (looking at you, Josh Groban). But Wonka? Maybe “Scrub Scrub” or “You’ve Never Had Chocolate Like This” will be hits 30 years from now, but I didn’t leave the theater humming. Perhaps this is because there wasn’t much to hum. The music lacked any sort of melody, and there was nothing to capture the ear or brighten the eye. There was nothing new or exciting in the soundtrack, no clever harmonies or funky beats. It came across as a cookie-cutter soundscape, indistinguishable from most recent musicals and pop songs.

The film certainly attempts large musical numbers, but it also includes slapstick moments and balloon rides reminiscent of Mary Poppins Returns. And watching Rowan Atkinson be pursued through a cathedral by a giraffe is absurdist in the extreme. This inconsistency of style, compounded by flat music, made for a forgettable film.

The master chocolate-maker deserves better.