Posted by Mr. Beaks

If, to justify its existence, Tim Burton’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory needed only to top its 1971 predecessor, the autopilot Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (directed by Mel Stuart), then let the cries of “needless remake” cease.  Though more Burton than Dahl, this latest adaptation of the children’s classic is an exuberant, colorful spectacular that overcomes numerous narrative deficiencies by continually tapping into the audience’s sense of wonder with one lusciously realized set after another (courtesy of Alex McDowell, who may be the best production designer working today).

Where the film may cause some polarization is in Johnny Depp’s portrayal of the reclusive confectioner; with his pale, gaunt visage and petulant manner, he really is channeling Michael Jackson… of, at least, a decade ago, if not longer.  That may allay parental anxiety to a degree, but it has a strange effect on the tone of the movie; unlike Gene Wilder’s take in the 1971 production, Depp hardly dominates the proceedings.  In fact, once one is accustomed to the halting rhythms of his portrayal, he all but disappears into the lush scenery along with the rest of the cast.

If the film becomes progressively less human as it goes along, it begins warmly enough with the introduction of the fantastically poor Bucket family, who live in a leaning, seemingly ready-to-tumble shack set cruelly apart from the merely decrepit tenements of a London-esque metropolis.  As in the book, this sorry structure houses the protagonist Charlie (Freddie Highmore), his parents (Noah Taylor and Helena Bonham Carter), and two bedridden sets of grandparents, the chattiest of which is the kindly Grandpa Joe (David Kelly), who boasts of having worked in the Wonka Factory until Willy shut it down on account of his various recipes being stolen by spies sent by rival candy companies.  The factory would reopen several years later without, curiously, the hiring of a single employee.  How Wonka keeps boxes and boxes of candies rolling out of the factory gates is a mystery that teases young Charlie’s imagination, which is only further fired by his attic view of enormous, smokestack-ed edifice. 

When it’s announced that “Golden Tickets” have been secreted away into five Wonka Bars, the possessors of which will be granted a tour of the factory’s grounds, Charlie, like every other child in the world (and more than a few adults), desperately seeks to claim one.  Unfortunately, his family’s poverty, which allows for only one Wonka Bar to be bought yearly on the occasion of Charlie’s birthday, all but assures the boy’s futility.  Predictably, it’s the rich (entitlement queen Veruca Salt), the gluttonous (portly Augustus Gloop), the insanely competitive (trophy hoarder Violet Beauregarde) and the overindulged (video game obsessive Mike Teavee) who snag the early tickets.  But Charlie, after coming up empty twice, miraculously scores the fifth ticket through a sheer stroke of luck.  Good hearted enough to consider taking a large sum of money proffered for his ticket, which would greatly alleviate his family’s misery, Charlie is persuaded to realize his once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; ergo, with Grandpa Joe as his guardian, he shows up at the factory gates to gawk at the unimaginable wonders within.

Cue Depp’s entrance, which is heralded by a chintzy animatronic display that grinds and buzzes out of control, eventually bursting into flames.  This decision to play Wonka as a semi-incompetent rather than merely careless undercuts his allure to a degree, and Depp’s slurve of a performance threatens, at first, to deflate the requisite wonderment of the piece.  As a tour guide, he’s a bit of a bust:  the children hardly register with him at all, while the parents’ inquiries are met with a callow shrug. 

This is where McDowell’s production design, and Burton’s exquisite filming of it, takes over.  The track record of movies getting by on the lavishness of their sets is certainly not a favorable one – e.g. Dick Tracy, The Haunting (1999) and, to an extent, Gangs of New York – but this film’s endless inventiveness ably prevents the doldrums from setting in.  Since the story is, by now, well known, the narrative is essentially propelled by one’s excitement at seeing what astonishing design McDowell is going to pull off next.

Also exceptional is Danny Elfman’s energetic score, which bounces from one genre to another to celebrate each of the four brats meeting their elaborate misfortune.  These numbers are, of course, performed by the Oompa Loompas, played here by one, digitally duplicated actor, the diminutive Deep Roy.  It’s not always a seamless trick, but the actor’s enthusiasm, particularly in the Busby Berkeley-inspired Chocolate River number, is so winning that one doesn’t quibble much with any technical shortcomings.

That’s essentially the way of the entire movie, which could easily be quibbled to death.  Yes, the addition of Wonka’s backstory, his dentist father (Christopher Lee) forbade candy, is unnecessary, and, due in large part to Depp’s chilly portrayal, falls far short in imbuing any emotional resonance into the film.  It’s a strange misstep, given that Burton and screenwriter John August, by virtue of sticking with the book’s title, seemed to recognize early that this isn’t Wonka’s story at all.  But their overemphasis on Wonka’s loveless upbringing shoves Charlie to the periphery, which is a shame, as Highmore is hugely sympathetic in the titular role.

Still, locating the heart of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is a tricky task, and, ultimately, it’s enough that Burton nails the social satire and spectacle with boundless élan.  For a summer movie season where the hits have been notable mostly for an aggressively dourness – Revenge of the Sith, Batman Begins and War of the Worlds – Burton’s paean to Dahl is a comparatively mirthful diversion.