Charlie and the Big Bag of Runny Shit.

Last post I threatened to review something that I actually liked. Of course you didn’t believe it because you know me.

Never let it be said that I disappointed you.

Surfin’ around the plethora of HBOs the other night (our free subscription is almost up and there’s just no way I’m gonna pay for that crap) I stumbled into Tim Burton’s remake of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

Initially I thought, "Hey, that’s funny!" No, not because something amusing was happening but because for the last few weeks Susie has had the Gene Wilder version on a constant loop here at our house in Those North Woods, USA. Now when this particular… flick… was in theaters I just couldn’t believe that anyone thought the original needed to be remade. I’d heard for years that Roald Dahl was famously unhappy with the original and refused to ever watch it (his script apparently was changed drastically) but having never read the book (it would have interfered with my constant re-reading of 2001) I have always considered the film to be one of my all-time favorites and sort of thought of it as being near perfect—despite the admittedly low production values.

Well, anyway… back to the point. It was on. It was free. I was morbidly curious. I watched it.

"BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP-(splash)-A-DAP-A-DAP-A-(splash)-BUBUBUBUBUBUBUBBUBUUUUUUUUuuuuuuuuuuuuup-(splash)-… up-(splash)-….up-(splash)-…. up-(splash)-…. Fweeeeeeee -(splat)."

What was that, you ask? That, my friends, is the cartoonish representation of what a really nasty case of stinking liquid shit being shot out of a Marine’s ass after a night of wild drinking at some local shitkicker bar complete with chicken wire in front of the stage sounds like, toilet water splooshes and all.

That same sound seemed to come out of my 5.1 sound system during the entire viewing experience of watching "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory". Of course it was all in my head but that was the general "taste" I was left with by the time the friggin’ credits slithered their turd-like way up my stained and violated 27-inch CRT.

You might assume I didn’t like it. You’d be right if you did.

Now I have to preface this whole "review" with the admission that not only have I never read the book but I didn’t even see the opening 20 minutes or so of this particular, ummmm…. production. I stepped in it, I mean stumbled into it at the point where Charlie finds his golden ticket at Bill’s Candy Shop.

Initially I thought that maybe HBO had started yet another new channel-- one dedicated to showcasing workprints of unfinished films that had since been finished and gone on to theatrical runs. Such a channel would be of specific interest to true movie geeks who get a kick out of watching a film go through the whole process from script to screen. I thought this because the whole time Charlie is opening up the wrapper of the chocolate bar there isn’t any music creating any underpinnings of tension and the pacing of the scene was dull and lifeless, as were the expressions on all the actor’s faces. Imagine, if you will, unwrapping a piece of Bazooka Joe bubblegum and… GASP!!!!… finding a small comic strip inside the wrapper! Yeah, I know; Big F’in’ Deal, right? They ALL have that in them. That’s pretty much the feeling that’s telegraphed by the scene. It felt like an assembly edit. No one seems to think it’s all that big a deal. If they do, then maybe it’s the massive doses of thorazine that they’re all apparently on that are what’s keeping them from acting surprised or impressed or, well, anything!
So then all the kids show up at the gate of the big, impressive, computer-generated chocolate factory.

The kids. That leads to my next rant.

Whatever you may think of the "original", you have to admit one thing: they’ve each got loads of individual character. While they are undeniably stinkers who need a good hard swat to the behind with a circular saw they are also absolutely real examples of children that all of us have, at one time or another, run into in our daily lives. I won’t go into them individually but I felt like I knew these kids. And while I didn’t like them I always felt like they were at least potentially rehabilitatable. The same sort of goes with the parents; they’re messed up too, but not soooooooo badly that you can’t relate—at least a little.

Now here comes Tim Burton and his "artistic vision" thing to go and screw all that up. The kids in C and the CF are nothing less than total reprobates who come off as nothing more than budding recruits for some inner-city gladiator academy. While the kids in the original were portrayed as horrible little kids, the future sociopsychopaths in Burton’s poopfest resemble nothing more than miniature versions of Karla Homolka and Jeffrey Dahmer. Mike TeeVee (or however it’s spelled in this incarnation) is, by far, the worst of the lot. I think Stanley Kubrick protrayed Alex in ‘A Clockwork Orange’ as more of a redeemable soul than Tim Burton did with poor little Mikey (whose father should not only deprive him of a real gun until he’s twelve, he should probably seriously consider depriving the little S.O.B. of oxygen for the same amount of time and help us all out). The same sort of goes with the parents (just about the only thematic element that this thing has in common with the 1970’s version is that the kids and parents are about equally screwed up, relative to each other). They’re messed up soooooo badly that you can’t relate—not even a little.

Plus (as if all that wasn’t bad enough!) there’s no Slugworth character. There isn’t even a hint of any desire on the kid’s parts to get into the factory so as to sell all of Johnny Depp’s secrets for their own selfish gains, as in the Wilder version. They all just seem to want their stinkin’ chocolate. To make things worse, the appearance of the everlasting gobstoppers cause two of the kids to sort of eyeball each other as if to say, "Hey… that’s the thing I came to scarper off with and make scads of ill-gotten dough on the black candy market!" but then nothing happens with it! WTF?

There’s no contract to sign! The friggin’ oompa loompas are all played by Deep Roy on crack! Willy Wonka appears to have a Dorothy Hamill/Elton John fetish! Nobody so much as breaks a sweat or acts in any way disturbed when the kids all meet their inevitable "ends"! Jesus… lemmee offa this lame-ass ride already!!!!!!
And now the worst for last--

Charlie.

I don’t know who the kid was who played him. It’s not his fault. I hope he goes on to do something more meaningful with his life. Something like crushing used hypodermics into a garbage can at an L.A. methedone clinic (Oh we’ll get you off that smack, oh yes we will!). But the truth is that the Charlie character was even bigger B.S. than all the other kids put together.
Sure he was poor. Sure he meant well. He had a heart of gold. He was the only one who "got" Willy. He was… hopelessly perfect.

In the original, Charlie was all of that as well but he was a real friggin’ kid! He effed up! He STOLE fizzy lifting drink and bumped into the ceiling which had to be washed and sterilized and he damned near got NOTHING! He damned near LOST! Good DAY sir! Only the fact that his innate goodness overcame his equally innate badness and his conscience made him give back the everlasting gobstopper rather than sell it to Slugworth and get revenge on Wonka saved him in Willy’s eyes. But in Timmy B’s idea of a better way of doing things poor little Charlie is the one who stands his moral ground and eventually leads to Willy’s reconciliation between Willy and his father and parenthood in general.
Huh? Why do all the great, older filmmakers have to go through Lucaspeilberg Syndrome? Why must the adults all be infantile and pathetic and only be redeemed at the hands of the superior child? Why God why?

So just in case you scrolled down here real quick in an effort to avoid all of my sulphurous ranting, here’s the final word:

"BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP-(splash)-A-DAP-A-DAP-A-(splash)-BUBUBUBUBUBUBUBBUBUUUUUUUUuuuuuuuuuuuuup-(splash)-… up-(splash)-….up-(splash)-…. up-(splash)-…. Fweeeeeeee -(splat)."

P.S. If this is what ol’ Roald Dahl had in mind all along (he wrote the lyrics for the Oompa Loompa songs), then he should be ashamed of himself for badmouthing the original so badly all these years.

P.P.S. If Mel Stuart is still around, someone let him make more movies!

Lack of image credits: Friggin' Blogger, of course!