Wonka (2023)

Listen to this post:

If Wonka doesn’t taste quite as magical as you’d hoped there’s a good reason. Mel Stuart’s 1971 uber-classic Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory has rightfully taken its place as one of the most beloved films of all-time, whereas writer/director Paul King has managed to craft not one, but two Paddington films many now consider among the best of their generation. Or any generation.

Matching King’s talents with Roald Dahl’s delightfully darker storytelling pathos seems like it should have been a slam-dunk, but this new version constantly reminds us that it’s very, very much a prequel to Stuart’s film. The problem, of course, is the two films have incompatible themes, acting styles, and even music.

Well, that’s not true; Leslie Bricusse and Anthony Newley’s iconic soundtrack is here to remind you of better days (and better films). How odd for a brand sold as “pure imagination” that every new iteration of itself seems to demand less and less imagination from audiences?

via YouTube

Young and impetuous, Willy Wonka (Timothée Chalamet) sings and dances his way into a town bustling with whimsy, eager to set up his own chocolate shop selling his fabulous creations and fulfill his destiny. Nearly broke, he takes up an offer to stay at a laundromat, only (as we soon learn) Wonka, for all his confectionery gifts, is illiterate, and his failure to read the small print on the lodging contract makes him a literal captive of his evil laundromat masters.

All is not lost, however, as Wonka soon befriends Noodle (Calah Lane), a young girl suffering from “orphan syndrome”, and the rest of the laundromats wrongfully indentured slaves, sorry, servants. Inspired by memories of his late mother (Sally Hawkins) and a penchant for sweetness bordering on obsession, Wonka and his ragtag crew of fresh new friends make plans to bust out of their prison, engage in spontaneous musical numbers, and dance their way to a happy ending.

What’s strange is how this fictionalized place seems to exist in the very same post-War England of Mary Poppins Returns, a mish-mash of anachronistic (but in your face) racial diversity with a blend of British/American citizens. Only the dialogue comes off stilted when spoken by the American actors, yet velvety smooth when uttered in exaggerated British accents. We’re to believe this is the same locale of Stuart’s 1971 film, but while that version brilliantly combined elaborately constructed soundstages with beautiful European locales, especially German (which seems chocolatey perfect), Paul’s film was created entirely inside a computer. The difference is stark, like real sugar versus artificial sweeteners.

Of course, even the most scrumdiddlyumptious Willy Wonka movie only works if you buy the actor playing the character, in this case Timothée Chalamet. Unfortunately, he seems to be in over his head. Chalamet is a fine actor who’s been perfectly fine in other films, but juxtaposed against more interesting character actors and a story more saccharine than bitter, he tends to fade into the background. Much like Jude Law in 2004’s Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow or Jay Leno in 1989’s Collision Course (yeah, I said it) he’s simply miscast.

It also doesn’t help that Chalamet is channeling Johnny Depp’s Captain Jack Sparrow more than Wilder’s Wonka, which is evident in the opening scene which rips off Depp’s introduction from the first Pirates of the Caribbean movies wholesale. But even Depp learned that Gene Wilder is a tough act to follow. But while Depp’s Wonka was extremely unpleasant, at least Chalamet is pleasant, so that’s something.

This is a common mistake that most musicals tend to make, why so many are technically fine yet utterly forgettable. We don’t listen for perfection, but for sincerity. Gene Wilder was never the best singer, but his rendition of “Pure Imagination” was tailored around his melodic limitations. Chalamet, a marvelous dancer, simply doesn’t have the vocal power to belt the new songs by Joby Talbot and Neil Hannon the way they should be.

Instead of working around his own weak voice the producers (as with so much else in the movie) overwhelm the numbers with bigger and ghastlier productions, as if to hide these shortcomings. I suspect Warner Bros realized this too late as  Chalamet’s singing is completely absent from all of the film’s trailers and marketing.

Calah Lane doesn’t make much of an impression as Wonka’s plucky assistant Noodle, but at least the British cast fairs better, especially Olivia Colman having all the fun playing Cockney hag Mrs. Scrubbit, as does Tom Davis as her unrequited love Bleacher. Paterson Joseph’s Slugworth is especially odious, as is Matt Lucas’s Prodnose and Mathew Baynton’s Fickelgruber. Even Keegan-Michael Key is a standout as a corrupt cop with an ever-expanding waistline. Rowan Atkinson playing a corrupt priest leading a band of “chocoholic” monks sounds funnier than it ends up being, which is a real shame.

Other than Chalamet, the most notable performance comes from Hugh Grant as Lofty, an Oompa Loompa that’s been following (and stealing from) Wonka, shrunken and colored orange and green via questionable CGI. His sarcastic performance still shines through, though when he reappears later flying around on a jetpack you can’t help but wonder what went wrong.

The biggest mistake the film makes is swapping naughty kids for naughty adults, trapping them into a convoluted and messy plot that would be overly complicated for an Oceans 11 sequel. Which is really a shame as all the elements of a nastier, more horrible (i.e. interesting) story are right there involving indentured servitude, corrupt police, child abandonment, and milking zoo animals. There’s even a scene where Wonka is waterboarded, and let’s not forget the metaphor of chocolate as a literal addiction. It’s a good thing nobody in this movie has diabetes.

Why can’t a family film be gruesome anymore, especially one based around Roald Dahl’s own mordantly dark peccadillos? The same “experts” that will tell you why a family film cannot have nasty little children finding their comeuppance and footage of chicken decapitation are the same experts that have also been trying to replicate – unsuccessfully – one of the most beloved family films in history that just so happens to feature nasty little children finding their comeuppance and footage of chicken decapitation.

Perhaps this is why fans, at the time, thought that Tim Burton’s morbid sense of humor would be a perfect match for Dahl’s storytelling, and why King’s effervescent, whimsical stylings would be a counterpoint to that darkness. On some levels this is true; Paul’s world of chocolatiering and spontaneous musical numbers does have a certain appeal, and it’s hard not to smile at some of the clever puns and ridiculousness of it all.

In Paul’s earlier Paddington films this same approach felt awesomely unique, a breath of fresh air to almost every other film out there (not just family dreck). But underscoring this is the business of Wonka branding, which means constant reminders this film truly is a prequel to a completely different one. Every time things stray too far, or it’s clear the new songs aren’t working, in comes the original melodies to “remind” us how magical and beloved Stuart’s film was.

But the two films are so tonally and cinematically incompatible, so disparate from each other, that it’s impossible to imagine Chalamet’s childlike chocolate man will somehow transform into Wilder’s sarcastic version in the future. It would have been much more satisfying had Paul’s film been allowed to break entirely from Stuart’s to be its own creation.

What a shame that Wonka comes in the same year Wes Anderson, once again, was able to capture Dahl’s idiosyncrasies with his delightful (and delightfully short) Netflix projects The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar, The Rat Catcher, and others. In the same year as his own Asteroid City, no less, Anderson’s sensibilities seem better tuned to Dahl’s than any other living director.

Wonka isn’t a terrible film, and there’s much to admire scattered throughout its overlong running time. Paul King remains a remarkably gifted storyteller, though it would be nice to see him return to more original productions (or revive lesser-known properties like Paddington) in the future. But this one is a misfire. Timothée Chalamet is completely miscast, the production is drowned in CGI sludge, the new songs are easily forgettable, and the whole affair feels like opening a new bar of chocolate and seeing fingerprints; Wonka wants to have its candy and eat it, too.