July 18, 2005

When I find a movie that takes me by surprise, in an extremely positive or negative way, I tend to be suspicious of myself. Was it a mood... a moment... the company? Or was it, indeed, the movie?

I went to go see Charlie & The Chocolate Factory on Friday morning here in San Diego because I hadn't seen the film in L.A. or N.Y., because I thought it was important to see, and because I wasn't in a rush to get to ComicCon... sorry, I'm just not going to become master of geekdom anytime soon.

I didn't really know what to expect. I had heard mixed positive and mixed negative, but very little passion for the film, one way or the other. While Warner Bros. was endlessly open with Batman Begins, they were a bit tight with Charlie. After all, a lot of negative media could hurt the strong tracking numbers the film was getting... and why mess with that?

But they were wrong.

And in my opinion, most of my colleagues in the critical world are wrong... in part because Warner Bros' policy didn't give this film enough room to breathe.

After seeing Charlie for a second time on Sunday morning (is ComicCon still going?), I would say that not only is Charlie the best major release of the year to date, but will far and away be the movie that is remembered and revered most for years and years to come.

It is not The Constant Gardener, reaching for something far more serious and adult and deeply held. But in that last sentence, I held back the word "important," because Charlie & The Chocolate Factory is about something that we forget the importance of while it is the thing that affects our lives and the lives of those around us the most profoundly of all things... the simple love of family. (The Constant Gardener also speaks to familial ties, but later romantic ones, and the adult search for self... but this is not a column about the glories of The Constant Gardener.)

Charlie & The Chocolate Factory is, in many ways, Tim Burton's most complete, most perfect film. He is in so many ways the film world's Willy Wonka, creating mind-boggling confections that amaze and delight every time he gets behind a camera. But somehow, they have left audiences - well, me - wanting.

Big Fish was, somehow, the most complete... the most thorough work. But it was also quite minimalist, to the point where it definitely threw many audiences. How do you expect an audience to embrace a father who is so selfish? I see it as one of the wonderful things about that film. But I can see the fly's little legs stuck in that ointment.

The brilliant stroke that Burton and screenwriter John August made in the script for this adaptation of the Roald Dahl novel - even if some critics have convinced themselves that it was superfluous - is the addition of Willy Wonka's backstory.

Why does the boy who seems to have nothing have everything? And the man who seems to have everything so lost?

I adore the first adaptation, which offers no screenwriting credit on IMDb, but was directed by Mel Stuart. But the difference between that film's impact on the world and that of The Wizard of Oz has a lot to do with the lack of grounding that this question offers.

There is no place like home. And perhaps in 1971, when the first film was made - or in the early 60s, when Dahl wrote the book - one of the most significant issues facing the children of the world was not so pressing that it needed addressing. Of course there was no place like home. Of course, the love of your family was a given, even if it was a challenge to receive it sometimes. Of course.

It is a great tribute to Dahl that the four "bad nuts" in the film are all as relevant today as they were forty years ago. Television was barely 15 years old as a mass medium when Dahl delivered Charlie (in the same year I was born, 1964). August & Burton add a few minor touches to the Mike Teevee character - videogames and a home in Colorado - and everything about him is right now. Even Danny Elfman's Oompa Loompa song for him (and the others) is right out of Dahl.

It is ironic that in this moment in tabloid history, when people are so obsessed with Michael Jackson, that this character, in no small part because he has been given motive and logic (however storybook-ish it is), rises beyond the idea of being a popular freak. Without getting into spoilers, Wonka is, like all of us, in need of love. As an adult, he was able to create a structure for himself that felt safe... that indeed offered him the love of true outsiders. But he finally awoke to his need for a deeper love. And amazingly enough, this often silly, ever brilliant romp, encompasses that all-too-familiar search.

But back to the fun stuff...

Long before getting into the issues of life and love, Charlie & The Chocolate Factory is a nearly perfect romp. Once we allow ourselves to get past our childhood romance with a world of pure imagination where we could even eat the dishes, we can see just how sumptuous this affair is from beginning to end.

I really don't want to give any of the good stuff away... and there is so much of it. But I'll offer up a few things I noticed, particularly on second viewing, that are not big things, but are beautiful...

The tire marks of the trucks in the snow as the trucks leave the Wonka factory.

Charlie getting grossed out by the idea of his grandparents kissing.

A glorious sight gag on an Indian's forehead.

The internationalism - and jokes that come from it - in the search for the Wonka bars.

Commentary on the media when introducing the four other golden ticket kids.

The unexpected but delightful choice of Geoffrey Holder as the narrator.

The range of the Oompa Loompa songs, which makes it harder to remember them for drunken nights in bars, but tributes to The Who, The Beatles and Busby Berkeley, among others, are pretty great. One of the very few things I missed in this film was an appearance by Ann-Margret as Mrs. Gloop.

Burton's tribute to Kubrick both speaks to his cleverness as well as the power of Kubrick's legacy.

And the Burton/August choice to take their time getting to Wonka's factory is really a special treat. It isn't so long a wait that it grates, but it is a strong, assured choice that "the good stuff" is not just the big effects and chocolate factory insanity.

Johnny Depp has become this generation's Alec Guinness - which is massive praise just stopping with that - but with movie star looks. His performance here, much of which Burton captures in extreme close-up, giving Depp's ticks full control on long comic beats, is simply as good as it gets. He is doing what Jim Carrey dreams of, yet he is managing to get acting props, big movie star dollars, and he hasn't made a "gotta do this for career" kind of call in a long while.

Freddie Highmore was an excellent choice for the earnest Charlie, as was David Kelly as Grandpa Joe, whose age opens the door to one of the many great gags that will mostly play for adults in the film. Helena Bonham Carter and Noah Taylor fit like a glove. The three other grandparents couldn't have been more right (especially David Morris, with the same not-terribly-known advantages of the four "bad" children. Missi Pyle is a gem and James Fox is to these parts born. Susie Figgis does another great job.

And what can one say about Deep Roy? In a ham sandwich of a role, he slices it fine and never fails to deliver just what the director needed. He is never the butt of the joke and he is never little in any way other than height.

Charlie & The Chocolate Factory got richer, deeper, and sweeter the second time around. And as I waited to see a mis-step here and there, I found myself surprised and delighted again, just 48 hours after the first time I saw it.

I love the Wonka back story, from the head gear to the literal moving house to the completely believable way Willy's father keeps an eye out so long after communication stopped.

Depp gives another Oscar worthy performance, which was in many ways more challenging that his brilliant turn in Pirates of the Caribbean, since here so much of it is in small beats and without the fun of bucking his swash. Wonka's tone is absolutely critical and Depp walked the tightrope with Wallanda-level skill.

John August did a masterful job of embracing Dahl and finding small twists.

Philippe Rousselot's camera work is really stunning. People, myself included, who saw Depp's pale skin as a Michael Jackson affectation will find that a number of white skin characters have much the same tone. Everyone in this movie, except Charlie, his family, the Oompa Loompas and James Fox, seem to be made of chocolate as much as anything else.

The effects work, with some weight exceptions in the boat ride, is impeccable. The live action effects, supported with Oscar-level skill by Alex McDowell's production design, are wild. And the combination moments, like Veruca and The Squirrels... seamless.

But mostly, this is the perfect Tim Burton movie. It is a visual masterwork that is also rich in real, scary, not unfamiliar emotion. And it answers, by way of addition, a very critical question. How does one become a Willy Wonka? And how does one make sure that the next Willy Wonka is a better Willy Wonka?

One hates to psychoanalyze, but the answer may have come to Tim Burton about 21 months ago with the birth of his son. It is not hard to see Noah Taylor as a surrogate for Burton as they raise their Charlie (named Billy Ray Burton in real life).

What does every (sane) father want? For his children to make the next step... to be better... to have a better life.

Charlie & The Chocolate Factory feels like a gift of love from this father to his young son. And it is a gift to all parents and their children. Remarkable film.

E-ME. How was your movie weekend? Tomorrow, a look at ComicCon...

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