'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory' amounts to empty calories
By CHRIS GARCIA
Austin American-Statesman
Those teeth, that hair, that smarmy simper and girlish giggle. Ew. Willy still gives us the willies, but no longer in a good way. We miss Gene Wilder, terribly.
As overinterpreted by Johnny Depp in Tim Burton's charmless and totally unnecessary "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory," Willy Wonka is a waxy freak and mincing creep. He's a pinched, effeminate fop, with the brittle scold of a school marm and the pasty hue of a cadaver. His Louise Brooks page and jutting horse teeth are exaggerations of style that spread to the velvet long coat, top hat and purple rubber gloves.
Depp plays Wonka like a fey silent-movie comedian, though he's not silent, which is too bad, because the actor, in voice and mannerism, channels bits of the Church Lady and Mr. Rogers on mild hallucinogens. He's a space cadet fidgety with vague mischief and whimsical distraction.
Depp is a courageous actor of arch inspiration, and he's wise not to copy the indelibly cockeyed performance of Wilder in 1971's superior "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory." (Yes, that low-budget bomb, critically savaged in its time but cherished by fans ever after — me very much included — is the better film.)
But his performance is a chilly, forced creation. Any sign of a real person, a soul and a heart, is entombed in an aggregate of mismatched tics Depp applies like the layers of sickly makeup caking his face. Without cataloging all that made Wilder's portrayal of the eccentric confectioner maniacal genius — his sinister nonchalance and bipolar volatility, that mad scientist's blast of split-ends — we'll just say Depp confuses ornament for character.
Burton, that dark archaeologist of the id, hasn't provided Depp a great vessel in which to romp. His movie isn't a direct remake of Mel Stuart's film version, but a more faithful adaptation of Roald Dahl's 1964 book, which too is titled "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory." But he and writer John August have mucked it up with weary psychoanalysis — that is, he gives Wonka a lame backstory not found in the book that's presumably meant to illuminate the choc doc's wiggy personality. It's also the source of the movie's misconceived ending.
Bad Dad. That's what messed up Wonka and made him the heartless sociopath and sweet-tooth sadist he is. Seen in rote flashback, Dad (Christopher Lee) was a tyrannical dentist who forbade little Willy to eat candy. An anti-candy dentist for a father — ta-da! There's your parent-loathing nutcase.
As in the book, there are no Fizzy Lifter Drinks — Charlie, paragon of virtue, would never steal a thing — no Gobstopper handout and no lurking Slugworth who whispers instructions to the five Golden Ticket winners. Suddenly you realize how imaginative the first movie truly was by adding those dramatic elements, never mind the film's second-rate songs, which, save for the Oompa-Loompa ditties, are gone in Burton's take.
The story, of course, follows little Charlie Bucket (Freddie Highmore), whose family is so poor and famished that his dreams make a beeline to extravagant fantasies about Wonka chocolate. Rubbing things in, the Wonka factory, a menacing fortress of spires and smoke stacks, looms over Charlie's unnamed town, a dead ringer for Dickens' sooty London, like a taunt.
Then Wonka announces the Golden Ticket sweepstakes, in which finders of the tickets in Wonka Bar wrappers, win an all-day tour of the chocolate factory. The first four winners are "rotten" children — Augustus Gloop, Violet Beauregarde, Mike Teavee, Veruca Salt — who represent a kiddie version of the cardinal sins — gluttony, pride, sloth and greed.
A lot of the chocolate factory innards look suspiciously like the first film's depiction, especially the chocolate-river meadow, a grassy candy land where Augustus gets jammed in the plumbing. When that happens, and whenever a naughty child (each of whom, like Wonka, is a product of horrendous parenting) indulges his lust, troupes of itty-bitty Oompa-Loompas, all played by an eerie Deep Roy, break into elaborate song and dance, using the book's couplets. Their synchronized swimming bit in the chocolate river is best.
Visuals are Burton's forte and they excel, slightly, in "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory." His scrupulous palettes and expressionistic architecture mingle with Dr. Seussian contraptions and psychedelic visions for some inspired weirdness.
Still, you can't shake the fatal sense of having seen this all before in a sprightlier, fresher film that's 34 years old. That "Chocolate Factory" was stranger, funnier and, appropriately, a whole lot sweeter.