Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory - Halloween Review

SPOILER ALERT

Tell me this: what were the most valuable things you ever admired as a kid? It could be the unanticipated sense of whimsy waiting around every corner. It could be the idea of encountering some of the most magical objects, people, or animals you would ever imagine or run into. Anything could happen, and that’s why it’s called a fantasy. There’s no telling how far your imagination can go when you try to capture what you see in front of you, or in others.

So what happens when you encounter a place of utmost imagination, where you feel like you are witnessing your wildest, unlikeliest dreams come true? And I mean, besides Walt Disney World?

Many people would probably point to The Wizard of Oz as one definition of childhood magic for them, most likely at the movies. They reportedly found themselves utterly entranced by what they saw unfolding in front of them, whether it was the transition from sepia to color, the fantastical elements popping up in every corner, or the unimaginable forces Dorothy had to face to make it home.

One movie I’d point to as a defining example of childhood magic for me is Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory. Ironically, when it first came out, it wasn’t as much of a household name as it would become.

Based on Roald Dahl’s classic book Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, the film centered on a young boy named Charlie Bucket who had to make a living, even for a boy his age, to support his family: his mother, Charlie’s maternal grandparents, and Charlie’s paternal grandparents. Charlie’s father had passed away, but no one ever said how or from what. One of Charlie’s favorite people in the world was his maternal grandfather, Grandpa Joe, who expressed his commitment and love for Charlie and his hope that Charlie would do his best and get what he believed he deserved.

Then, one day, their neighborhood, and even the rest of the world, caught on to a new contest being announced. Willy Wonka, owner of the local, reclusive Wonka chocolate factory, snuck five golden tickets into Wonka bars worldwide, and whoever found one would get a grand tour of the chocolate factory, plus a lifetime supply of chocolate. Apparently, though, when we look at what happened around the world, everyone went wild and took it seriously, trying tooth and nail to find the tickets and win the grand prize.

Soon enough, four children each found a golden ticket: a gluttonous boy named Augustus Gloop, a bratty, spoiled, entitled girl named Veruca Salt, a boastful, proud girl named Violet Beauregarde, and a TV-obsessed boy named Mike Teevee. Charlie Bucket, on the other hand, had so little in his life that he became desperate for a golden ticket, and hoped against hope that luck would come his way and give his family a chance. Unfortunately, all hope seemed lost when the news said the last golden ticket was found in Paraguay.

Later, however, Charlie heard on the news that the discovery of the fifth golden ticket was a hoax, because the ticket was fake. So, after Charlie bought a Wonka bar, he carefully snuck in and looked at his bar, only to find the real final golden ticket. After helping Grandpa Joe out of bed, who miraculously managed to stand after twenty years bedridden, they, along with the four other winners, gathered at Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory, were greeted by the enigmatic Willy Wonka, and were transported into a world of wonders.

But there’s a catch. Before the ticket winners gathered at Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory, a suspicious chocolatier named Arthur Slugworth met up with each of them. How he tracked them down, I don’t know. But what he proposed to each of them, especially Charlie Bucket when he confronted him, was that they find a mysterious creation from Willy Wonka called an Everlasting Gobstopper and bring one to him, with the promise of a substantial reward for each of them, even compared to what Willy Wonka would have in store for them.

What wonders would await Charlie Bucket, Grandpa Joe, and the other lucky golden ticket winners? What more would they discover of Willy Wonka and his chocolate factory? And who among them would suspect, or trust, Slugworth as they considered what he told them?

As you may have guessed, this movie embodied wonders that’d lunge out as you waltz into a world of fantastical creations, concoctions, and even creatures unlike anything you would expect from a chocolate factory. But it’s not just the fantastical elements that worked so well. Many other things elevated Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory into the realm of classic cinema.

First, remember what I said about The Sound of Music and how each half felt like it was meant for a different audience? With The Sound of Music, I thought the first half was more for families, while the second half dove into enough heavy dilemmas to feel more adult.

With Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory, it felt more like the reverse. Everything that went on in the first half, even with the news broadcasts, felt more like it was for the grown-ups. However, as everyone went to the chocolate factory in the second half, it began to splash with color and feel more family-friendly. It had enough bright colors and creative, wacky scenarios to cheer up the children while maintaining a sneaky undertone that drew the adults in, too. Take, for example, Wonka’s Shakespearean quotations, Grandpa Joe’s remarks, and even the outrageous ways in which the four kids ended up getting their just desserts, so to speak, after misbehaving. They were so creative and wacky that they practically sharpened this movie’s witty edge.

While Grandpa Joe’s remarks throughout the tour were amusing and fun to listen to, this one concerning the Wonkamobile hits me right in the funny bone.

Charlie: Is this gonna go fast, Grandpa?

Grandpa Joe: It should, Charlie. It’s got more gas in it than a politician.

As for the first half of the movie and the contest, though, there were some scenes I thought were also downright hilarious.

For example, a troubled man told his therapist about a dream in which an archangel came and whispered the possible location of a golden ticket in his ear. And judging by the questions his therapist asked next, the rising tone in his voice told me he wanted to get in on the action, too.

On top of that, another situation showed a computer programmer trying to explain to three businessmen what he entrusted his supercomputer to do, specifically when it came to finding the remaining golden tickets. What the programmer didn’t anticipate, however, was that the supercomputer was so smart it knew better than to sidestep the rules, even for his benefit, judging from its uncooperative responses to his requests. But its response to the programmer’s intent to share the grand prize with it if it told him the golden tickets’ locations?

What would a computer do with a lifetime supply of chocolate?

That one cracks me up.

And the one scene I remembered the most was when a panicking wife consulted with a police officer about a ransom and what the kidnappers begged for in exchange for her husband’s life. Then, after confirming, the police officer, with dead seriousness, told the wife that they wanted her case of Wonka bars. The wife was actually nonplussed and stood for a minute until she finally asked,

How long will they give me to think it over?

Wow, really? A box of Wonka bars is as valuable as our husband’s life? Granted, it was at the stage where there was only one golden ticket left to find, but man, what would you gain from going to a reclusive chocolate factory that’s on the same level as your own husband?

And need we forget the conditions surrounding the quote-unquote ‘fifth golden ticket’ from Paraguay?

There’s something about how seriously everyone took the idea of a contest to visit a reclusive chocolate factory that seemed blown out of proportion, but amusingly so.

Now, let’s shift our attention to the songs. Many of them are classics, and there are so many to choose from; they left that deep a mark on music history.

Let’s start with probably the movie’s mellowest song, ‘Cheer Up, Charlie’, sung by Charlie’s mother as three golden tickets were found and poor Charlie began to doubt his chances of finding one. It felt like a primal motherly song, as his mother poured her heart out and expressed comfort and concern as Charlie waltzed back home and contemplated what she would have said in his moment of grief, uncertainty, and desperation. It may be a little slow, and it may drive some of the kids in the audience a little nuts, but when you pay attention to what was sung throughout, you could feel just how concerned Charlie’s mother was for him and how there would be no better place to be than where he was at that moment, just him and his family. Even when things got tough, Charlie still had them to back him up.

One of the other songs that kickstarted this movie and gradually became a classic in its own right was ‘The Candy Man’, sung by the soda jerk as he confided in the kids about what wonders would await them from either Willy Wonka himself or anyone who knew how to make the world a little sweeter with such confections. It’s almost like it’s asking, “Imagine what it’s like to step inside Wonka’s chocolate factory or into any place that’d promise a little boost of goodness waiting for you. Imagine all the wonders you’d find if anyone is ever lucky to go there.” That was before the golden tickets were announced, so this song felt hopeful, yearning for what one could find in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory, or even do as a candy man.

The other song, ‘I’ve Got a Golden Ticket’, was a chipper song about what joys can be regained in life after a long period of misfortune or stagnation. Grandpa Joe conveyed it with utmost pride and ecstasy as he finally felt like he re-experienced what there was to appreciate in life after thinking he was stuck in bed for a long time. And to see this escalate into a duet between him and Charlie felt like the nadir of excitement for them as they anticipated what they would experience in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory, like they were experiencing the start of a brand new opportunity and a brand new life because of what was granted to them both through Charlie’s golden ticket.

A lot of people cried foul over this, but I’ll explain why when I get around to it.

‘I Want It Now’, sung by Veruca Salt during the tour, was simply the musical equivalent of an ego trip. It’s all about Veruca venting about everything she found desirable in life, including what she wanted, and even who she wanted, as she sang it all out with the utmost vanity. But it ended with a funny finish. As she hit the last note, she fell straight down the garbage chute in the Golden Egg Room, kicking off her demise on the tour while still holding that final note.

She was a bad egg, Willy Wonka concluded.

But this leaves us with two songs, both of which have become straight-up icons.

The Oompa Loompas’ songs, inspired directly by the songs they sang in Roald Dahl’s original story, were entertainingly condescending and mellow, and the Oompa Loompas sang them out loud as they elaborated on what the kids had done wrong throughout the tour, or even in their lives.

The first two verses alone became so recognizable that they would clue anyone in on what was coming, even from memory, no matter what they focused on. So, there’s a ton to appreciate about these songs, whether it’s the rhythms, the playful wordplay, or their arguments about eating too much, wanting too much, misbehaving too much, or watching too much. These songs laid it all out, teaching tourists and us what happens when you give in to such unhealthy desires.

And that leaves us with the movie’s borderline theme song, ‘Pure Imagination’.

Everything that was anticipated of Willy Wonka, his chocolate factory, and all the wonders that you would ever wish to encounter in the factory or in life was basically summed up and expressed with utmost pride as Gene Wilder sang about appreciating the wonders of imagination and owned it every step of the way. Everything that was conveyed in this song felt like an invitation to witness all the joys there were to experience of what you don’t understand or never thought would be possible. It was sung at just the right moment, too: they waltzed into the Chocolate Room, and it got the ball rolling on what there was to experience at Willy Wonka’s heralded chocolate factory.

Speaking of which, let’s hop over to the performances. Those are among the movie’s strongest parts, and because so many did such a good job, I’ll highlight the biggest standouts.

All the kids who played the other four golden ticket winners, Augustus Gloop, Veruca Salt, Mike Teevee, and Violet Beauregarde, owned their roles with so little. What I admired was that they all played them with enough respectability to make them feel more real as kids, without overlooking the defining characteristics that painted them in a less flattering light than Charlie.

Michael Böllner played Augustus Gloop with a defined posture, giving him a little more dignity beyond his gluttonous reputation. He even looked a little cultured because he was polite and well-mannered despite his eating habits.

Julie Dawn Cole felt like she had a ball as Veruca Salt. With her bratty impulses, whiny instincts, and desperation to get anything she wanted, she ramped up those off-putting instincts until she was basically kicking and screaming, but with enough comedy to make it entertaining to watch, not just unnerving. She gave Veruca enough personality to amp up her negative qualities while adding enough positive qualities to make her entertainingly obnoxious.

Denise Nickerson played Violet Beauregarde a little more modestly compared to Julia’s Veruca Salt, but what she conveyed of her character was just the right amount of sass and pride to highlight what she accomplished in her life and how unapologetically proud she was of it, even if it all boiled down to something as annoying as her constantly chewing gum day in and day out. As she elaborated,

I chew it all day except at mealtimes when I stick it behind my ear.

So there was a bit of impudence in her character, and she made that clear without ever losing sight of what drove her to be the best she could be.

Paris Themmen looked like he had fun making Mike Teevee look like a total TV addict. He also highlighted how much of what he saw felt like what he said he saw on TV, whether it was Westerns or other television. He seemed like the most excitable of the lucky ticket winners, but part of that might stem from emulating what he saw on TV.

The actors playing the ticket winners’ parents were no slouches either.

The actress playing Augustus’s mother, Ursula Reit, gave her character much of what Michael Böllner gave Augustus Gloop, along with a sense of culture. Dodo Denney, who played Mrs. Teevee, gave her just enough wit to flavor her commonsensical remarks, but also enough negligence to highlight how well-meaning yet irresponsible she was as Mike’s mother. Leonard Stone, who played Violet Beauregarde’s father, Sam, was a hoot, expressing enough spunk to highlight his reputation back home as a car salesman and enough sass to give me an idea where Violet got hers.

But the highlight among them was Roy Kinnear as Veruca Salt’s father, Henry. With his slightly pompous antics and his desperation to appease his own daughter, I could tell how poor a father he was, and how helpless he seemed whenever he tried to go so far as to grab Veruca the moon. He was clearly at his wit’s end from Veruca’s overwhelming demands, yet he still tried to make his daughter proud, however hopeless his attempts may have been. Sometimes, he had a little confidence in himself, especially when it came to Veruca’s demands, but mostly, he was trying to put her at ease about what she wanted in life.

In fact, when you put Roy Kinnear and Julie Dawn Cole together, they made a dynamic…ally dysfunctional father-daughter duo.

Despite doing so little, I admire what Diana Sowle conveyed as Charlie’s mother, because she seemed like the most level-headed member of the family while also assessing what was best for herself, her parents, her parents-in-law, and Charlie. As we’d understand from ‘Cheer Up, Charlie’, she clearly cared about Charlie as the circumstances around him began to eat him up.

This film was where I was introduced to Jack Albertson, and whenever I think of his work, I instinctively think back to his performance as Grandpa Joe because, man, what he delivered in the role was among the most fabulous I’ve ever seen. He honed his character’s more tender, understanding side as he confided in Charlie not only about what went on in life, but also about what he hoped for. Whether he was bedridden or standing, Jack Albertson’s performance made it clear he wasn’t sure he was fit to do what he thought he could do. But once he could stand again, he saw it as a renewed sense of hope, as if walking again gave him a second chance to do what he thought was too late for him. What’s more, as Grandpa Joe tagged along with Charlie on his adventures through the chocolate factory, his dry wit, retorts, and remarks came across with natural humor, making them palatable and funny to listen to.

I also remember another memorable part of his performance in this movie, and I’ll elaborate on that later.

I especially admire the actor who played Charlie Bucket, Peter Ostrum.

Whenever I think of Charlie Bucket, I think of him as a kind, loving boy who, while mature for his age, was not without some childish impulses of his own. Ostrum conveyed it most authentically through Charlie Bucket’s character. With his background in providing for his family, and his desire to want something in life for more than just his family, he conveyed just enough of those instincts to make Charlie Bucket feel believable, and enough for us to empathize with him and his deepest desires. So, every time I saw Charlie Bucket look longingly at what others had, or how desperate he was to get his hands on it, he conveyed those qualities with utmost grace. And by the time he was finally given the chances he wanted, he basically allowed himself to be a kid again, but not without maintaining his observations and mannerisms that made him a good kid. Even during his tour at the chocolate factory, he seemed like the most level-headed kid in the whole group.

I also remember just what a mysterious performance Günter Meisner gave as Slugworth. According to Grandpa Joe, Slugworth stole Wonka’s secret recipes to make his own candy creations. This background conveyed a sinister essence to Slugworth, and Meisner brought it forth while also keeping it completely uncertain, for it was never known exactly what he would have guaranteed for those who found Wonka’s golden tickets. Either way, Meisner made Slugworth seem like he really meant to keep tarnishing Wonka’s reputation for his own gain. So, I tip my hat to Meisner for making me wonder what he meant to do with Willy Wonka, or with those who found the golden tickets.

Whenever I saw Mr. Turkentine, Charlie Bucket’s schoolteacher, I saw him as just another teacher. But watching him again as an adult, I found myself more amused by his character than I anticipated. Part of it might be due to the performance David Battley gave him. His delivery had a certain snappiness that elevated his otherwise generic character to a level of hilarity I never expected to appreciate. For example, when he talked about medicines for warts and made a mixture that ended up as a disaster, he responded to Charlie’s question of whether they did it right with,

Certainly not, this is for very big warts.

And who can forget his sequential line…

Class dismissed! … Class undismissed. … Class redismissed!

…when he was clued in on the Wonka contest as it gained momentum?

Scenes like that, and the way Turkentine taught his lessons, were made possible by the quick, wry deliveries Battley brought to Turkentine.

But the movie’s scene-stealer was easily Gene Wilder as Willy Wonka.

Gene Wilder brought Willy Wonka to life with pure energy, fun, and mystery. As the mastermind of a chocolate factory filled with unknowable, unexplainable wonders at every corner, he seemed to know exactly what was going on and made sure his factory was tended to with the utmost care and decency he believed it deserved. Even as he brought a group of kids and their parents along for the ride, he made sure everything ran like clockwork.

I could see the joyous, childlike side of this character igniting excitement in anyone who saw the wonders he had in store. But the way he observed and handled things also hinted at a mysterious side, leaving you uncertain about what more he might unleash. Every time he conveyed other emotions, whether at his most modest or at his most outraged, he opened windows into other corners of his personality, giving a more complete emotional portrait of a mysterious candy man like Willy Wonka. Gene Wilder’s balance of childlike ecstasy and a more calculating side brought out all of Willy Wonka’s best qualities, and he made the movie for me and almost everyone else.

Speaking of which, the set designs were a marvel, too.

Back home, Charlie’s home and even his school were about as standard and generic as you could get, but each had some appealing aspects. There was a bit of a distinct flavor to Charlie’s school that lent a more curious sense of engagement with it, and while Charlie’s house was run down and a little on the poorer side, it was still conveyed with enough decency to make this otherwise poor home visually engaging to see.

But that was nothing compared to the set designs of Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. Just look at all of the different rooms that they went through. The Chocolate Room, the tunnel, the Inventing Room, the Fizzy-Lifting Drink room, the Geese Room, the Wonkavision Room, the Great Glass Wonkavator, even Willy Wonka’s personal office. Each room carried a distinct, otherworldly quality that heightened the mystery, wonder, and excitement of Willy Wonka’s factory. It was so dripping with childlike fantasy and plausible mystery that it left both the inner child and even the observant adult mystified and curious about how it all came to be, or how it would all come to be.

Even in the Chocolate Room, when the actors playing the five golden ticket winners and their parents walked in, we saw more than just the characters reacting to the room’s wonders. We also saw how the actors genuinely reacted, since they saw it for the first time during filming. That should show how much wonder, excitement, and engagement there was in watching mysterious rooms and wonders pop out as you progress through the tour, as Roald Dahl would demonstrate best.

That’s another reason the first half of the film felt different from the last half. After getting used to the mundane aspects of regular life, the film emphasized the truly magical qualities of Wonka’s chocolate factory once the lucky ticket winners stepped through the doors.

Of course, some parts of the sets did look a little fake. For example, some of the foods the Golden Ticket winners enjoyed in the Chocolate Room looked more like props than actual food. Even the chocolate that was mixed by the chocolate waterfall looked too watery to be actual, freshly churned chocolate.

However, as I said, the element of wonder in the Chocolate Room, and the rest of the factory, was so rampant that I wouldn’t even care how artificial any part of it looked; I’d instead marvel at what an overwhelming factory it was to be in. The set designs’ entrancing quality spoke volumes.

Even the lore behind Willy Wonka and his chocolate factory was engaging. As Grandpa Joe explained to Charlie, Slugworth, the operator of Slugworth Chocolates, Inc., had a bitter rivalry with Willy Wonka and, out of competition, secretly sent spies to masquerade as extra workers at Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory to steal Wonka’s secret recipes. But it was not just Slugworth; many other chocolate makers did the same, likely out of jealousy.

Willy Wonka caught on and decided to close the factory. Three years later, Willy Wonka’s factory resumed producing the famous candies that made him a household name, but he kept it locked off from the outside world so nobody could steal his recipes again. That’s what lent him such a mysterious quality.

Also, given how mysterious and fantastical Willy Wonka’s creations were, it would make sense that Wonka’s chocolate factory would be prestigious, especially when you consider what other chocolate factories would want to be in on it, like Hershey’s, Nestle, or whatever.

Later, as they learned more about Willy Wonka’s capabilities as a candy maker, he explained some of the goings-on that made his candy factory what it is, like the Oompa Loompas. He brought them from a home country called Loompaland, saving them before they became prey to fantastical creatures like Snozzwangers, Wangdoodles, and even Vermicious Knids…which, as Roald Dahl fans will tell you, didn’t appear until the original book’s sequel, Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator. But that’s another story entirely.

All those distinct, mysterious aspects of Willy Wonka’s history and how his factory came to be were enough so that you would understand how he and his chocolate factory developed such a wild reputation, but also mysterious and fantastical enough to leave me utterly bewildered at how something like that ever came to exist in a world that was completely rigid, logical, and fully functional.

Speaking of which, let’s talk about the tunnel scene, often cited as one of the scariest parts of the movie, and of anyone’s childhood.

Now, I will say this scene didn’t scare me as a kid. I was more unnerved by all the freaky goings-on in the boat ride. And because this came out in 1971, I came to acknowledge its more psychedelic colors, usually associated with the mid-to-late ’60s and early ’70s. And it’s not just the speed of the boat that caught everybody off guard, but also the weird imagery popping up around them, conveyed through the delusional madness that caught the tourists with their pants down. It heightened how unnerving the trip was, in more ways than one, as the initially calming boat ride turned out to be. It was ultimately topped off by Willy Wonka’s unpredictable monologue about rowing and how much it began to trickle into disaster. It not only cemented how crazy Willy Wonka was about to get, but it was said that once the actors noticed Gene Wilder belt out his lines, they thought he was losing his mind.

So I felt weirded out, but also fascinated, by how crazy things got when the Golden Ticket winners entered the tunnel.

Finally, let’s talk about the characters. While the performances the actors lent to them were all incredible, the characters themselves were something to be admired, too.

Charlie Bucket, one of the noblest characters in the movie, felt like a content, conscientious, hopeful young boy who knew what it’s like to live in constant hardship and to want something greater for himself and his family. But it did not get to the point where he let it weigh him down or change him into someone worse. He still maintained an aspect of innocence that helped his hopes stay alive, even when he was surrounded by other forces trying to push him and his family down, and when it became apparent that he sounded more agitated or desperate for what he knew that he wanted. It was clear he was secretly hoping for it, not just for his family, but for himself. I could tell how much the poor conditions were taking a toll on his soul. When he finally got the chance he always wanted, when the last golden ticket slipped into his life, he felt like he could hear the doorknobs of life opportunities turning and opening doors for him and his family.

From the rest of the movie onwards, he felt like he was going through a multitude of tests to see exactly whether he would have it in him to maintain what made him such a good person without stepping sideways or succumbing to things that would cost him and his family what they had longed so long for.

Willy Wonka wasn’t a madman, but rather the pleasant kind of madman, without even being one.

What he unleashed with his chocolate, his factory, and the creations he concocted highlighted how wondrous yet unpredictable he was as a candy maker. And because there was so little said about Willy Wonka outside of his history with Slugworth and also what all he created as the five golden ticket winners waltzed into his factory with him, it highlighted just a little bit of a calculated madness with Willy Wonka that would only cement just what kind of mysteries and wonders he would unleash and what that would say about him as a person and not just as a candy maker.

Even the Oompa Loompas. Just look at how distinct they were, with their orange skin, green hair, and brown outfits. Those dwarf-like characters felt human enough to be like everyone else, but different enough to be a separate species from the human race. And because they came from what Wonka confirmed was a real country called Loompaland, it hinted that other parts of the world might exist that no one knew about, or that might be filled with creatures they didn’t think could exist, like the Oompa-Loompas. So, in a way, they seemed just as mysterious as Willy Wonka.

I believe many actors played the Oompa Loompas, and each conveyed a slightly distinct personality, showing the variety within this otherwise foreign community of workers.

When I think of Oompa Loompas, this is who I picture first. Their design became that iconic and that recognizable.

The other four golden ticket winners in the movie, Augustus Gloop, Violet Beauregarde, Veruca Salt, and Mike Teevee, could easily have been caricatures of whatever vice they personified. I remember it being said that Augustus Gloop represented gluttony, Violet Beauregarde represented pride, Veruca Salt represented greed, and Mike Teevee represented laziness. But I think they were all written with just enough distinct flair to keep them from feeling too stereotypical.

Augustus Gloop, despite being a constant eater, was also very refined, polite, and well-spoken. Even though he didn’t do much in the movie and was the first to be kicked out on the tour, the first word that flashed through my mind when I saw him was ‘posh’. He felt like a posh young boy, even though he was more memorable for his overeating.

Violet Beauregarde was very boastful about her gum-chewing records and other accomplishments back home in Miles City, Montana. Of course, for all her boasts and constant gum chewing, I think she had a little modesty that kept her feet on the ground, even if she never wavered in her perpetual, sometimes obnoxious gum-chewing tendencies.

Veruca Salt was probably the most unorthodox of the golden ticket winners. She constantly nagged for what she wanted, at home or at the chocolate factory, and expected her poor father to hand it to her on a silver platter. She’s basically an immature baby and possibly one of the least likable golden ticket winners. But again, Julie David Cole’s performance was enough to add a sweet coating to this otherwise bitter candy.

Mike Teevee may have shared Violet’s boastfulness about what he remembered seeing on TV and commenting on it in relation to what he saw in front of him, or even in the chocolate factory. But his quick-talking instincts, along with his deep knowledge of what he consumed on TV, made him pretty knowledgeable about what he saw, even though his problem was excessive TV consumption away from real life.

I’ll admit, I have a problem with watching movies and TV all the time, especially throughout my childhood, but something about Mike Teevee’s TV-watching habits felt so ongoing that it convinced me there are better things to do in life than watch TV and movies all the time. And it looked like Mike Teevee clearly hadn’t understood that. So, by the time he indulged in what he remembered from TV, you could see just how much he was missing out on in life. So I would say it made him look like the most misguided of the four other golden ticket winners.

Many of their parents had varying degrees of intrigue.

Veruca’s father, Henry, was confident, but too confident in his ability to provide for his daughter. After all, he had to halt all nut production in his factory so his workers could find a golden ticket for Veruca. But I could tell he tried to be a good father to Veruca, even though it seemed in vain, given her attitude problem. And what he and Mrs. Salt believed in didn’t help:

Happiness is what counts for children. Happiness and harmony.

Yeah, don’t forget discipline.

Sam Beauregard was a committed father who wanted to make his business known and indulge his daughter’s ego, since he seemed to have a little of that himself. Every time Violet stepped out of line, it was obvious that Mr. Beauregard, despite his opposition, didn’t express enough of it to keep her daughter from doing things that were too out of line.

Mike Teevee’s mother was very sensible, but not sensible enough to know when to let Mike do things besides watch TV. Whenever she spoke about what she was not mindful of, she either was too overwhelmed or stressed out to know what to make of it, or tried to combat what she thought was nonsense with common sense and grounded facts about what she was fully aware of, especially since she told Mr. Wonka that she was a teacher of geography.

Furthermore, Charlie’s mother may not have done much in the movie. But much like Augustus Gloop’s mother, her modesty suggested her motherly instincts. But because she provided for her family, not just Charlie, you could tell how much she carried on her shoulders every time she tried to keep them afloat with all those mouths to feed.

Slugworth was a mysterious and clearly deceitful character because of his rivalry with Willy Wonka. Every time he showed up in the movie, he seemed to carry the exact mannerisms to highlight how he was bad news. While I won’t give away exactly what happened at the very end of the movie, let’s say that by the time the man was revealed in his entirety, there would be a little trickery going on as to how much of the shared history was real and how much of it pertained to what truly awaited those who remained in the tour with Willy Wonka.

And finally, that leaves us with Grandpa Joe. And I’m not going to lie, this is about to feel like the Hakuna Matata debate all over again.

For as long as I’ve been acquainted with the movie, I saw Grandpa Joe as a jolly, understanding man who clearly had Charlie’s best interests at heart and wanted to see to it that, despite their predicaments, something would come along that would give him, Charlie, and their family another chance at life. So, I looked at it all thinking that he shared the same hopes and aspirations as Charlie, even if he thought it would be impossible for him because of his age and bedridden condition.

Let’s talk about how his ‘coming out of the bed’ went down. In both Roald Dahl’s book and Tim Burton’s take on the story, once Grandpa Joe saw Charlie’s golden ticket, he yelled, ‘Yippee!’ then lunged out of bed, dancing like it was nothing.

That seemed to throw a lot of people off. It made them wonder whether Grandpa Joe had been faking being sick for so long, or whether seeing Charlie’s golden ticket helped him reconnect with his long-lost youth.

But here, Grandpa Joe’s way of standing up after so long felt more believable. He was excited for Charlie like any parent would be, but when Charlie wished he could go, Grandpa Joe looked doubtful yet willing to see if he could stand after all. After asking Charlie to help him up, fumbling and nearly falling on Charlie, Grandpa Joe managed to stand upright again and became excited to be able to stand at all, saying he hadn’t done it in twenty years.

As someone wise said, this may require a little bit of suspension of disbelief. So, in the case of Grandpa Joe in this movie, as much as people like to complain about how he was faking being sick, I also believe that part of his unwillingness to get out of bed was not out of laziness, like with Mike Teevee, but rather out of uncertainty over whether he could do that because of his age.

That, and at times in the movie, when he talked about getting out of bed only to be corrected by his daughter that his attempts were nonexistent, many people insisted this showed a lack of regard for his family. I saw it more as a sign of senility. I mean, what did you expect from someone who’s elderly and constantly in bed?

So, when I saw him getting out of bed after seeing the golden ticket and sharing Charlie’s sense of excitement, I still saw it more as him getting in touch with his inner child as he celebrated what possible opportunities awaited him, as well as Charlie and his family, knowing that the golden ticket was about to be his and his family’s gateway into something wonderful. Besides, given all the weird, fantastical creations Willy Wonka showed his tourists throughout the tour, I’m willing to believe the golden ticket had something magical that let Grandpa Joe walk again after being bedridden.

If I know Willy Wonka, anything’s possible.

Even though it seemed like ‘I’ve Got a Golden Ticket’ was written to be sung from Grandpa Joe’s point of view, tell me this. Think about how this song would be interpreted from Charlie’s perspective. If you pay close attention to the music, shortly after Charlie found the golden ticket, you’ll notice that the instrumental version of the song played as he ran home with it, and this was long before he told his family and Grandpa Joe about his lucky find and helped Grandpa Joe out of bed.

So, you could say Grandpa Joe was more or less verbalizing what Charlie, and then Grandpa Joe, felt as they realized one of the biggest things they ever hoped for was finally in their possession. The song was written carefully enough to apply to both Grandpa Joe and Charlie individually or together, especially since what started as a solo by Grandpa Joe soon became a duet between him and Charlie.

As for how Grandpa Joe was able to use his tobacco money on a Wonka Bar, despite him being bedridden, the movie wasn’t supposed to say how he did it. If I know Grandpa Joe, he’s pretty firm and would’ve likely talked Charlie’s mother into using the money on the bar so he could surprise Charlie. Besides, Grandpa Joe had no interest in continuing to smoke his pipe despite his family’s insistence, which I found surprisingly ahead of its time for a movie released in 1971.

Finally, let’s talk about two more instances of Grandpa Joe’s character that many people pointed to as ‘proof of his despicable behavior’.

One was when he and Charlie were in the Fizzy-Lifting Drink room. Willy Wonka showed them the Fizzy-Lifting Drinks and advised against drinking them because they can lift people off the ground too easily. What Grandpa Joe did was hold Charlie back as the rest of the tour went on and say to him,

Let’s take a drink, Charlie, no one’s watching. A small one won’t hurt us.

I’ve noticed countless people be up in arms about this and say it showed how disrespectful and selfish Grandpa Joe was. But I don’t believe that’s the case. When he told Charlie that they ought to slip a drink, he didn’t tell him to do so as if to say, “Let’s take our drinks. What does Willy Wonka know?” No, he said it to Charlie more like, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

And because Charlie jumped on the bandwagon, I didn’t see it as Grandpa Joe forcing him into it. If Charlie were knowledgeable and mindful, he would probably have tried to talk Grandpa Joe out of it before being talked into drinking. But no, Charlie went along with his idea. And because he did, I saw it as both of them letting their childish antics, not just their childlike ones, take hold.

I found this element of characterization in both of them fascinating. As I said about the other four golden ticket winners, their behavior suggested they knew exactly what they were guilty of. With Charlie and Grandpa Joe, however, they were both righteous. Still, they were willing to take a walk on the wild side and be mischievous about it, which expressed how flawed they were despite their righteous personalities.

Even Grandpa Joe came to immediately regret drinking the drinks when they found themselves being lifted into the air, and Grandpa Joe said,

We’re in big trouble! Mr. Wonka is not going to like this.

And, after lifting themselves so high in the air that they got too close to a fan before finally belching their way down, Grandpa Joe said,

From now on, we keep our feet on the ground.

That told me that Grandpa Joe learned his lesson from drinking the Fizzy-Lifting Drinks the hard way.

The most defining consequence came at the end of the tour. Only Charlie and Grandpa Joe were left, and they were bewildered that Willy Wonka cut the tour short and showed them the way out instead of giving them a grand finale. As Grandpa Joe waltzed into Willy Wonka’s office, Wonka launched into a long tirade about them breaking the rules, starting with drinking the Fizzy-Lifting Drinks, and how that disqualified them from receiving the grand prize.

Many people pointed out that Grandpa Joe was complaining about being denied what he was owed and that he was basically willing to hand over the Everlasting Gobstopper to Slugworth after being short-sheeted like this.

But I didn’t see it as Grandpa Joe complaining about what he was owed. He was complaining more on Charlie’s behalf, after watching him work so hard to provide for him and his family. Seeing Charlie deal with the door being slammed in his face, not just Grandpa Joe’s, was enough to send Grandpa Joe into a flying rage at Willy Wonka for treating them this way. If he were complaining about himself, he would not have said,

How could you do a thing like this? Build up a little boy’s hopes and then smash all his dreams to pieces?

Not only that, but while Jack Albertson’s performance as Grandpa Joe was already strong, what he delivered in this scene was some of his best acting in the whole movie. He basically reacted with bewilderment and shock before it mutated into a bubbling sense of outrage. So, underneath his speech, Grandpa Joe’s body language and vocal tones were saying,

How dare you! We may have stepped out of line, but this is low, even for you!

But there’s more.

Earlier in the movie, he shuddered after mentioning Slugworth’s name, as if Slugworth were something to be dreaded. When Grandpa Joe decided to give Slugworth an Everlasting Gobstopper, it didn’t feel like he did it out of malice, but out of anger. Let’s face it: when something you thought was within reach suddenly gets swiped under your nose, or rather, under Charlie’s nose, who wouldn’t lose their cool over it? But you could also lose your head over it, too. What Grandpa Joe thought was best for him and Charlie, he said in the heat of the moment.

In a way, it reminded me a bit of how Sam Beauregard blamed Willy Wonka for Violet turning into a blueberry, even though Wonka advised Violet against chewing the three-course-meal gum. Its dessert portion, the blueberry pie and cream, was the faultiest part of the gum and the reason Violet turned into a blueberry in the first place.

But while Sam Beauregard lashed out at Wonka out of arrogance, Grandpa Joe lashed out at him out of indignation. I guess it shows how anger can be intoxicating and make you say or do things you might regret later.

That was enough to tell me that Grandpa Joe was more of a child in grandparents’ clothing, and that he wanted so much out of life, and that, when the opportunity came knocking at Charlie’s door, that allowed him to feel like a kid again.

Heck, even with Grandpa Joe, and not just the chocolate factory, I saw everyone’s reactions to him and his actions as equivalent to trying to explain the unexplainable. But because we were supposed to be lost in thought about what went on in the chocolate factory, and not just with, say, the extreme reactions to the reclusive chocolate factory from the outside world, I would say that is not what we’re supposed to do.

So, to those of you who genuinely believe Grandpa Joe was pretending to be sick, or that everything about Charlie’s journey into the chocolate factory was more for his own personal gain, I’m holding nothing back when I say that you’re taking this at face value too much. There’s suspicion, and then there’s speculation.

If – even in a movie where Loompaland is a real place, geese that lay golden eggs exist, and a contest to visit a reclusive chocolate factory garnered enough buzz to inspire a ransom and a forgery in pursuit of the last remaining golden ticket – what I just told you about Grandpa Joe is all nonsense, then remember this:

A little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men.

Now, let’s move on from the ‘controversy’ surrounding Grandpa Joe and focus on an actual controversy.

According to the credits, Roald Dahl wrote the screenplay for this film, adapting it from his own story, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Technically, he did, but he was infamously not a fan of the final product. For example, Dahl had a more dignified British actor in mind to play Willy Wonka, such as Peter Sellers or Spike Milligan. As for Gene Wilder, Dahl thought he was too soft to sustain the character’s more mysterious disposition.

What’s more, Dahl found the title change to ‘Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory’ misleading and didn’t care for the movie’s redemption arcs, especially that of Charlie and Grandpa Joe after the Fizzy-Lifting Drink incident. Plus, despite the credits stating that he wrote the screenplay, what was maintained of what Dahl wrote for the movie didn’t entirely reflect it, since the uncredited David Seltzer revised the script against Dahl’s wishes.

It’s like what I mentioned before with Lolita. Vladimir Nabokov may have written the script and adapted his own story, but other elements were added that he didn’t approve of.

As for Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory, Dahl was so dismissive that he disallowed any attempts to adapt Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator into a film, which I can understand.

Whatever the case may be, Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory nonetheless became a cherished classic for years and rightfully so. The performances were charming and effective. The set pieces were nothing short of wondrous. The characters were all enjoyably eclectic. The story was childlike yet very whimsical. Gene Wilder’s performance as Willy Wonka might be one of his most legendary yet, right up there with Robin Williams’ Genie in Aladdin. The movie’s fantastical creations were imaginative enough to transport you into a world of endless possibilities. And the songs were among the most iconic ever written for a musical.

Whether you’ve been familiar with the book, this movie, or Tim Burton’s take, there’s no doubt that Roald Dahl’s sense of imagination let loose a whole new identity of candy-making, enough so that Wonka eventually became its own candy-making brand, but sadly without any of the mystical, magical qualities that made it so special in the books or movies.

Prepare to be whisked away into a world of pure imagination with this classic.

My Rating

A high A