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jakekilroy 's review for:
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
by Roald Dahl
Well, this was a delight and quite rambunctiously ridiculous. Wonka weaves between mad scientist and spacey docent, but what he never really seems to be is resentful. What some of the adaptations interpret as aloof, cynical, or piqued is really just Wonka being hyper-comfortable in his own skin as master of his own world. He tells kids and adults alike to stop talking because he's trying to communicate a spectacular wonder he finds fascinating and it's done so seemingly without malice.
Wonka has such a brazenly oh-dude-check-this-out nature that anything that tries to rupture such a grand moment—where he gets to finally explain his magnificent confectionary secrets after a decade in hiding—is presented as a hurdle he's just looking to kick down so he can continue on. There's no malfeasance. He's just a guy so enamored by the innovative majesty of his tiny, bewildering sugary kingdom that he forgets about consequences entirely, since he's had a tight grip on his lil' universe prior to this (chocolate-covered) bananas tour.
Even when he's explaining that a child could potentially be launching toward a furnace—and the parents are rightfully and reasonably freaking out—Wonka remains calm and figures, yeah, but today might be the day it's not even turned on. He just assumes everything's going to work out because, since he's lived so long as a quirky shut-in, everything has.
He's so interesting that way because there's no room for some pretense of arc. The real story is how Wonka could be a man too hidden from the realities of daily life to truly connect with the outside world, while Charlie is a dreamy-eyed boy suffering from the harsh gravity of everyday existence who is simply trying to grasp any real sense of wonder, even if it's only temporarily in a wily ol' recluse's factory.
The two meet somewhere in the middle–one thrilled to show off his madcap and zany treats and the other starved for such wonder (and sustenance, honestly) and that's before they enter that damn glass elevator.
Wonka has such a brazenly oh-dude-check-this-out nature that anything that tries to rupture such a grand moment—where he gets to finally explain his magnificent confectionary secrets after a decade in hiding—is presented as a hurdle he's just looking to kick down so he can continue on. There's no malfeasance. He's just a guy so enamored by the innovative majesty of his tiny, bewildering sugary kingdom that he forgets about consequences entirely, since he's had a tight grip on his lil' universe prior to this (chocolate-covered) bananas tour.
Even when he's explaining that a child could potentially be launching toward a furnace—and the parents are rightfully and reasonably freaking out—Wonka remains calm and figures, yeah, but today might be the day it's not even turned on. He just assumes everything's going to work out because, since he's lived so long as a quirky shut-in, everything has.
He's so interesting that way because there's no room for some pretense of arc. The real story is how Wonka could be a man too hidden from the realities of daily life to truly connect with the outside world, while Charlie is a dreamy-eyed boy suffering from the harsh gravity of everyday existence who is simply trying to grasp any real sense of wonder, even if it's only temporarily in a wily ol' recluse's factory.
The two meet somewhere in the middle–one thrilled to show off his madcap and zany treats and the other starved for such wonder (and sustenance, honestly) and that's before they enter that damn glass elevator.