WONKA

"Every good thing in this world, started with a dream. So you hold on to yours." - Willy's mother

Ever since Mel Stuart’s 1971 Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, the mysterious chocolatier gave Santa Claus a run for his money as one of the World’s greatest enigmas. Based on Roald Dahl’s children’s book and with a second iterative film starring an even zanier Johnny Depp in 2005, Willy Wonka cemented himself as a household entity. Paul King, the feel-good director of Paddington and Paddington 2, brought this year’s Wonka, a prequel and supposed origin story about the myth himself. Stranded in the streets of Europe and with nothing but a suitcase full of hopes and dreams, Wonka’s happy-go-lucky vibe may have left us with more questions than answers.  

King’s directorial style feels like a warm hug with a filmography leaning towards childhood comfort films. The importance of family and self assurance surfaces as the leading tropes in his films and proves no different in Wonka. The mystifying candy savant synonymously exemplifies magic and innovation, and with Gene Wilder and Johnny Depp portraying wounded curiosity and reserved eccentricism respectively, Chocolate Factory lore presents an endless amount of possibilities for his origin story. King’s intentions, however, were less concerned with the where and more concerned with maintaining Willy’s altruistic and charitable spirit. King and the newly anointed Timothee Chalamet as Willy stamp their own interpretation of the beloved character adding a spirited coziness that life and humanity eventually steal from him. Sweetness and giggles douse the runtime as chocolate fantasies come to life, but is it enough to distract from a lacking narrative structure and tonal indecision?

The film opens with a ship emerging from ocean mist, a mystical man dangling from its mast. An orphaned Willy Wonka with tattered, yet still chic, clothes, a walking cane and the most magical suitcase, second only to Newt Scamander, vibrantly steps onto the shores of England. A musical number begins whisking him away into the heart of the city as hardship and reality attempt to dull his shine. Street urchins and unfortunate circumstances bleed his coffers dry, but the forgettably average tune he’s singing keeps his hopes high as he goes from poor to destitute. Giving his last coin to a poor woman and her child, a maintained benevolence the older Willy loses due to time and human greed, Wonka lands on a park bench and summons his inner Mary Poppins with a warm cup of tea procured from his top hat. He reminisces on his late mother and swears to share her love for chocolate through contemporary candies he’s devoted his life to make. 

Later, Wonka finds himself coerced into staying a night at Mrs. Scrubitt’s boarding house and signing a contract that forces him into life-long manual labor because he can’t… wait for it… read? This world traveling practical magician who creates chocolate treats that make people float and grow hair is duped and conned because he’s illiterate? A weird narrative decision all around, considering its nonsensical nature and uselessness toward the progression of the plot. But despite this odd character flaw, which provides minimal comedic assurance, we forgive and accept Wonka for its meager misgivings because of the story’s familiarity and charm. Mrs. Scrubitt (played by a surprisingly charismatic Olivia Coleman) gives her best Miss Hannigan as the unforgiving keeper of a small group of indentured servants, now including a future famous chocolatier. This group of downcasts predictably form a family, with Wonka forming a strong bond with an orphan named Noodle. Another uninspired song later, Wonka’s optimism is still warming our viewing experience, while the ramshackle boarding house settles as the headquarters for political and social maneuvering rather than chocolate ingenuity.  

Wonka’s confinement doesn't last long as he and his new found cohorts come up with a plan to pay off their debts. As long as reading isn’t involved, they plan to sneak out of Mrs. Scrubitt’s house to sell chocolate in the streets using the sewer system for cover. Not all in high society are enthralled with Wonka’s desserts, including the Chocolate Cartel at The Galleries Gourmet whom Wonka inevitably adds to his list of nemeses. Impeccably dressed and color coded like Hogwarts houses, sans Gryffindor red for bravery, these writers love a reference, these three pull out all the stops once they witness, and especially taste, Wonka’s candied inventions. Having this otherworldly chocolate and its precocious inventor in the same city would undermine years of monopolized chocolate domination, mainly bribing the Chief of Police with an irresistibly unlimited supply of their own product. And thus begins the comedic cat-and-mouse game of good versus evil. While magical chocolate creations are sold and sung about and as a giraffe named Abigail is milked to create signature chocolate, Wonka may embody lighthearted fun, but unfortunately the fantastical mystery of its predecessors remains unfound in this new rendition.

Wonka’s issue not only unravels tonally but also narratively. Embedded throughout are storylines that attempt to add comedic value and depth to certain characters but only provide half-baked tangents that feel cramped and unrealized. Wonka and Noodle’s plan to make Mrs. Scrubitt and Bleacher, her henchman, fall in love is probably the most successful side quest. And what is Willy Wonka without his Oompa Loompas? This time Lofty, the only nemesis turned friend, starts as a thief in the night stealing chocolates by the jar-full. The friendship ultimately feels rushed and undercooked, as if the writers knew they needed to throw an orange side-kick in there for nostalgia and just hoped for the best.  

Lofty isn’t the only character development found lacking. Wonka’s band of incarcerees include several unique individuals, like a failed comedian and a soft-spoken former telephone operator, that we hardly get to know because King focuses more on the family unit rather than the individual. Working together to pay off their debts and helping Wonka’s Chocolate shop dream come to fruition, a wholesome atmosphere takes precedence over individual motivations as King leaves the ‘why’ by the wayside. Noodle, the most actualized character aside from Wonka, is secretly Cartel member Slugworth’s niece. Being the heir to Slugworth’s chocolate empire, he lies to Noodle’s mother and sells her to Mrs. Scrubitt who throws her down a laundry shoot, Count Frollo in The Hunchback of Notre Dame anyone? Wonka’s specific interest in Noodle registers oddly. Without truly knowing his age, and in a couple close-quarter scenes, their relationship translates both romantically and familially, an unsettling conundrum regardless of his rescuing schemes to better her life. 

Ultimately the Chocolate Cartel no-gooders record all their shady dealings in one account book, along with chocolate syphoned for future monetary gain. And along the way, they attempt to kill Wonka not once, but twice: firstly by blowing up a ship he boarded after they blackmailed him, secondly by trying to drown him and Noodle in the sewers. Add the Cartel’s other dastardly deeds and you’ve wracked up a pretty dark, R-rated movie if you took away all the songs and zapped the color gradient of any prime colors. Also add random religious zealots with a sworn allegiance to the Cartel and Wonka may as well be the new 007, chocolate gadgets and all. Forgiveness and acceptance is key during this viewing experience, Wonka masterfully engages the audience to disregard the poison society holds and instead bask in the magnetism of friendship and dream chasing.

After all, Wonka’s personal affinity for chocolate stems from his late mother. The last chocolate bar she ever made makes an appearance throughout the film as a glittering figurehead guiding his ambitions. She promised to tell him after his inevitable success, what she wrote inside that unopened candy bar, was the secret to making chocolate. Cliched and blaring like a neon hotel sign in the dead of night from miles away, the predictable answer holds little value because by the end of the film your heart is warm and your face strains from smiling at cute nonsense. Yeah we accept Wonka as the plot con-fuddled recreation that it is, but somehow, through sheer luck or planned acquiescence, we giggle and don’t really care.