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July 20, 2005
Wonkavision
"Whipped cream isn't whipped cream at all unless it's been whipped with whips. Everyone knows that."
I went into the new Charlie and the Chocolate Factory movie with a mix of excitement and skepticism. Skepticism because, well, I almost always hate remakes. Excitement because I thought (before I saw the previews) that maybe they were going to make something a little more true to the books than the Gene Wilder one.
Well, surprise on both counts. OK, I confess, I remember almost nothing about the books, but I'm pretty sure that lots of the new movie wasn't in them. But it didn't matter. This movie rocks.
Gone are the 45 minutes or so of sappy songs that precede the entry to the chocolate factory, the parts that everbody fast-forwards through. (Admit it, you know you do.) Gone is the simpering little blonde-haired wuss version of Charlie Bucket. And gone are the grotesque orange-painted oompa loompas.
I don't want to give too much away, so I won't, but the oompa loompas are perfect. The Salt family, the Beauregard family, the Gloop family, are all perfect. The Wonkavision homage to 2001 is brilliant. And the chocolate factory is as wondrous as you'd expect given that CGI has replaced all of the teetering styrofoam sets from 1971.
Depp's Wonka takes some getting used to...a psychologically-damaged, socially-inept, foppish recluse instead of Gene Wilder's smooth wise-cracker.
But the more I think about this movie compared to the old, the more I realize that the only thing the old movie had going for it was Gene Wilder. Take him away and it's a sappy, weak, grade-B musical. The new film is more of a complete package.
And Doxy, you need to get it just for the scene in the first ten minutes with the chocolate palace in India. You'll have to change your panties afterwards, but, well, most things that are worth it have a similar price.
We saw it at the Alamo Drafthouse, and when I saw the menu special I couldn't resist. The Violet's Gum Special: tomato soup, roast beef with baked potato, and blueberry pie. Plus a glass of fizzy lifting liquid...sadly, I had to get the kid-friendly one instead of the champagne drink and I only got two rather lackadaisical burps out of it.
But better than the alternative. We tend to yell "Fart, Charlie, fart! It's your only hope!" when we watch the old one at the house. We're like that around here.
(And no, I did not turn violet, Violet.)
Posted by ray at July 20, 2005 7:51 PM | Permalink
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