Review: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (2005)

Roald Dahl's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory has been considered a classic of children's literature since its original publication in 1964, and the big-screen adaptation of that book, 1971's Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, remains a favorite with kids of that era, even though fans of the book decried the sappy songs and the changes made to the story; Dahl himself was less than satisfied with the many alterations to his screenplay.

Even so, taking on the task of retelling a story so set in the heads and hearts of so many for so long would daunt just about any director.

Then again, most director aren't Tim Burton.

Having already helmed remakes (Planet of the Apes), homages (Mars Attacks, Sleepy Hollow) and films about outsiders and social misfits (every single movie he's ever made), Burton was the ideal choice to helm a new version of Roald Dahl's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

The story is, by now, familiar: Candy manufacturer Willy Wonka (Johnny Depp, working with Burton for the fourth time), who closed his factory because spies sent by his rivals kept stealing his recipes and yet mysteriously is still able to make chocolate, decides to put five invitations (in the form of golden tickets) to his factory in candy bars for five lucky children to find.

Four of the children are absolutely, irredeemably horrid: Gluttonous Augustus Gloop (Philip Wiegratz); selfish, demanding Veruca Salt (Julia Winter); pushy gum-chomper Violet Beauregarde (Annasophia Robb); and video game-obsessed Mike Teavee (Jordan Fry). The fifth child, though, is sweet, big-hearted Charlie Bucket (Freddie Highmore), who lives with his mom (Helena Bonham Carter), dad (Noah Taylor) and two sets of grandparents in a small, dilapidated shack.

When Charlie finds the fifth and final golden ticket, he takes along his Grandpa Joe (David Kelly), who, in this version of the story, used to work for Wonka before the factory closed. (That does help explain Grandpa Joe's rather obsessive knowledge of all things Wonka.)

The children are all wonderfully cast as well, especially Highmore (who had previously acted opposite Depp in Finding Neverland) as the sweet, smart Charlie and Robb as the ultra-competitive, ultra-obnoxious Violet. The adults fare well, too, with some fine turns by Missi Pyle and Edward Fox as a couple of the parents of the monsterous children, and David Kelly makes a spry, gentle Grandpa Joe.

And while some might be put off by having one performer--veteran midget actor Deep Roy--play all of the Oompa-Loompas, the tiny workers who are imported by Wonka to churn out the chocolate, the trick works, making them creepier and funnier at the same time. But while their musical numbers use lyrics written by Dahl, it's sometimes difficult to understand what they're saying, perhaps because all of the distorted voices for the Oompa-Loompas are provided by Danny Elfman, who also provides the typically phantasmagoric, bombastic score. (Maybe I've just got a grudge against Elfman because he's married to my longtime imaginary girlfriend, Bridget Fonda.)

The only major casting problem, really, is Willy Wonka himself.

The fault isn't entirely with Depp's performance, though his offbeat cadences and physical twitches didn't remind me so much of Michael Jackson (as a number of critics have said) as of NewsRadio and Kids in the Hall veteran Dave Foley doing an impression of Doctor Evil while dressed in Victorian velvet. He's not mysterious, but merely weird; not intriguing, but offputting.

The real trouble occurs where it usually does: at the screenplay level, where John August transforms Wonka from the aggressively eccentric of Dahl's writings to an aggressively antisocial recluse with a fear of children and substantial daddy issues, which are illustrated via flashbacks. And while this means getting to see screen legend Christopher Lee as Willy's dentist father, it also means materially altering both the character of Willy Wonka and the ending of the story, which must now wrap up the flashback plot threads as well. Dahl didn't see the need for providing Willy Wonka with a backstory. Neither do I.

Remarkably, however, the movie isn't fatally wounded by the bizarre, otherworldly Wonka. There are more than enough visual delights to compensate.

Burton and production designer Alex McDowell do a wonderful job of physically realizing often surreal world of Dahl's novel--from the highly detailed (but never flashy or obvious) design of the house Charlie and his family live in to the interiors of the chocolate factory, some of which look inspired by the works of James Bond production guru Ken Adam, to the individual rooms the children and adults are shown, like the nut-cracking room (a bit restored from Dahl's original story) and the Great Glass Elevator, which moves up, down, sideways, anyways and looks perfectly capable of travelling to the stars (as it does in Dahl's sequel novel, Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator).

Another aside revived from the novel is the chocolate palace Wonka builds for Prince Pondicherry--a palace which, Wonka warns, will melt on the first hot day. And, of course it does. Now, is this bit important to the story? No. Would it be missed if excised? Not really. But does it give Burton the opportunity to provide another delightful visual moment or two that look like a lush, color-soaked tribute to Fritz Lang's Indian Epic? It sure does.

And that's the point: Burton and his crew instill every little, dark corner of this movie with wonder, awe and, yeah, a hint of danger, making the Chocolate Factory a great place to visit.

Just as long as you don't have to spend too much time with that Wonka fellow. He's kinda creepy.