Wonka movie review & film summary (2023) | Roger Ebert (2024)

"Candy doesn't have to have a point. That's why it's candy."

That's what little Charlie Bucket said while visiting Willy Wonka's candy-world in2005's "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory." Paul King's prequel "Wonka" illustrates that notion in a breezy two-hour musical comedy. Inspired by Roald Dahl's Wonka books but not beholden to them, the filmhopes to make the audience shed a sentimental tear or two, but is mainly content to amuse, delight, and inspire cheers when the bad guys are defeated. Theperformances, costumes, songs and choreography are probably better than they needed to be to make a hit of thisproject, which is, as executives like to put it, a pre-sold property (who doesn't know and love Willy Wonka?).

It's all formulaic, for sure—proudly so, with self-referential jokes and outrageous punsso numerous that theywould be insufferable if they weren't charming. King, his cowriter Simon Farnaby, and their collaborators get the tone just right from the very beginning and never lose control of it, or the pacing for that matter, and although there are satirical or metaphorical touches that aren't too hard to see if you're looking for them, they're presented with a throwawaysensibility, often as sight gags, so as not to salt the candy to the point where it drowns out the sweetness.

Wonka (Timothee Chalamet) and the film's other main character, the resilient, resourcefulNoodle (Calah Lane)—who becomes his best friend and partner in adventure—are pluckyorphans, which automatically rendersthem sympathetic.Wonka even carries around the last chocolate bar created byhis mom,a candy-maker who raisedhim in the jungle, and stares at it whenever he needs inspiration.(Mama Wonka isplayed in flashbacksby Sally Hawkins, who's become agood luck charm for big-budget fantasies.)The main bad guys area triumvirate of all-powerful businessmen (Paterson Joseph's Slugworth, Matt Lucas's Prodnose, and Matthew Banton's Fickelgruber)who control the manufacturing and distribution of candy,keep the city's corrupt police force under their thumbs (including the chocoholic chief of police, played by Keegan Michael Key), and have gotten laws passed that make it almost impossible for anybody else to break into the business. Thecentral storyline of young Wonka trying to succeed as a chocolatier is a variation of a Horatio Alger-inspired templatethat often begins withan eageryoung manfrom the countrystepping off abus in a big city wearingan oldsuit and a tattered straw hatand carrying sticker-covered suitcases that get stolen they instanthe sets them down.

"The greedy beat the needy every time," Wonka is warned by another character. The script illustrates that idea from its opening musical sequence, which shows Wonka spendingthe 12 measly sovereigns he has in his pocket on such legallymandatory expenses asa fine for daydreaming. He'staken in by a seemingly kindheartedlocal innkeeper (Olivia Colman's Mrs.Scrubbit) and her right-hand man, alooming, bass-voiced dunderhead named Bleacher(Tom Davis), only to belatedly figureout that once he signed into the hotel, he agreed to pay the bill with his own laborif necessary, and every singlething he doesadds a new charge to the bottom line, including walking upstairs to his room. (The constantfines levied on all but the rich are a Dahl-like touch, bordering on Dickensian. Ditto thecruelcharacters' tendency to manhandle, club and kick the powerless, including Noodle, who's just akid.)

Wonka ends up toiling in abasem*nt laundry processing facility with other indentured servants, includingAbacus Crunch (Jim Carter), a onetime accountant to Slugworth, and Noodle, who quickly bonds with Wonka, creating a sibling-like dynamicthat's one of the freshest, most appealingaspects of the story. Wonka's wish to liberate his buddies purifies his desire to succeed in the chocolate business: he's not just doing it for himself and his mum, he's doing it for them, too. But it's a rocky road to victory. The script is relentless in its willingness to force Wonka totake two steps back for every threeforward (which Chalamet actually does in a scene where he's walking down steps, an homage to something Gene Wilder also did in the 1971 film; you don't often see a metaphor conveyed by an actor's footwork).

Even the most elaborate plans unravel due to unforeseen circ*mstances or the villains’ influence, requiring on-the-spotimprovisation, which fortunately is something Wonka and Noodle are good at. And when all else fails, this is a fantasy—sometimes a cartoonish one. We're never entirely clear on how many resources the down-and-out Wonka actually has at his disposal, and what we do see makes us wonder if he's an otherworldly creature whose only limitations are conditioning or psychology. The chocolate-making "travel kit" that he carries is practically a tiny factory thatseems to have its own power source. Whenhe finally does get to open his own chocolate shop (come on, now, like you thought he wouldn't get to do it?) it's up and running overnight, without a worry as to where to get the money, the materials, the permits, and the army of contractors required to make it happen. It's all quitecheeky, though, like the transition in "The Blues Brothers" where Cab Calloway is told that he needs to stall for time at the theater where the big show is supposed to occur, and there's a cut to a curtain going up to reveal Calloway and the band in on a 1930sArt Deco set wearing white tuxedos andlaunching into "Minnie the Moocher."

"Wonka" is not only unapologetic in its contrivances, manipulations, and absurdist embellishments,it lets its goodhearted trickster heroand a few other characters comment upon them—not as blatantly as a Bugs Bunny or Deadpool might,but practically. Nathan Crowley's production design, Lindy Hemming's costumes, and Chung-hoo Chung's cinematography create a universe that has a certain grittiness andis connected to reality through economic distress,but is otherwisethe audiovisual equivalent of one of Wonka's candies. There's a class system here, and the one percent rules over everyone else.But there's no racism (it’s a multicultural cast)."Wonka" avoids complaints that Wonka's future factory workers, the Oompa-Loompas, are imperialistic caricatures of nonwhite peopleby casting Hugh Grant as the lone example, a chocolate thief who visits Wonka when he's asleep, and making him sort of an English leprechaun obsessed with his own versionof the fabledpot-o'-gold.Dahl's tendency to equate conventional beautywith virtue and ugliness with nonstandard body types is also mostly AWOL here, save for thethe running gag of having the corrupt policechief swell up from all the bribe-candy he consumes.

The city Wonka conquersis sort of London and sort of Paris, with pieces from other places. But itfeels more like an old/newcity from a fantasy or science fiction film, a storybook, or a graphic novel—like the cities showcasedin"The French Dispatch," "Amelie" and "Moulin Rouge."The performances are mostly exceptional (Colman and Grant, as usual, are standouts), thoughthe script fails a few of the actors in the laundry room by not filling out their stories.

Another (frankly puzzling) drawback is the cinematography, which has a gorgeous silvery look in flashbacks and certain daylight scenes, but at night and in dim locations looks as washed-out and indifferently composed as a "Netflix original." (Is the inconsistency because of reshoots?) Whatever else you could say against Tim Burton's 2005 Wonkafilm, it looked great from top-to-bottom, and every composition popped.

As for the music: writing this piece, I can't hum or quote the newsongs. But Iremember enjoying them while they were happening—particularly the one in the first sequence,when Wonka is separated from his money. Hits from the 1971 adaptation are reprised here (notably the Oompa Loompa song and"Pure Imagination," also quoted in Joby Talbot's score), no doubtbecause the audienceexpects them. They may serve as Pavlovian tear-triggers for viewers of older generations.This is, of course,the sort of reaction that "intellectual property"-driven productions like this one live for. The approach isn't hugely different from that of yet anotherBatman movie, or a Disney prequel like "Cruella." (The cop corruption stuff issimilar to "The Batman.")

But for the most part,"Wonka"is so good at what it does that the question of whether it's a cynical enterprise becomes moot.It's as enthusiastic yetinscrutable as Wonka himself, played with an elegantly withholding quality by Chalamet, who in moments of quiet contemplation and madcap inspiration could be Gene Wilder's long-lost grandchild.