What a sad occasion. I should say at the start that Johnny Depp is one of my favorite actors of all time, and that -- until his last three films -- Tim Burton was one of my two favorite directors (the other being Terry Gilliam).
I'm sure Depp will go on to make many more superb films -- but I have no desire to ever see another Tim Burton film again. This film is not only untrue to the book, most monstrously so in its ending (which I can hardly bring myself to describe) but really throughout the film in its cheap, unimaginative, eye-candy.
Depp, apparently channeling a frightening mixture of Pee Wee Herman and Anthony Perkins (thus perhaps the gratuitous "Psycho" reference in the film?), is neither charming nor surprising; he lacks the sly warmth of Gene Wilder, who to my mind will *always* be the real Willy Wonka. His factory, resembling the assembly lines of "Edward Scissorhands," but on steroids, is a vast, impersonal cavern, without a single ring of emotional truth. Sure, all the kids but Charlie are brats -- but here, Willie Wonka is one too, and though Charlie may be a good boy, he gets very few speaking lines, and he and Grandpa Joe have as few occasions for fun as do we, the viewers.
During production, Burton talked about how he disliked the older version, and seemed to promise a darker version truer to Dahl's witty disdain for the the adult world. But here, everyone -- child, adult, and elderly person is insulted with visions whose "darkness" is not a product of melancholy, but of cynicism. There is no goodness here, no meaningful badness either. The first flashback to Wonka's dentist father (Chrisopher Lee, wonderful as ever) is a lovely touch, but the ending of the film, which demands that little Charlie somehow "heal" the wounded psyche of Wonka and re-unite him with his dentist dad, is the worst piece of poisoned treacle ever to leave a factory.
The whole thing ought to be flushed down a garbage chute -- it's a bad nut.
I'm sure Depp will go on to make many more superb films -- but I have no desire to ever see another Tim Burton film again. This film is not only untrue to the book, most monstrously so in its ending (which I can hardly bring myself to describe) but really throughout the film in its cheap, unimaginative, eye-candy.
Depp, apparently channeling a frightening mixture of Pee Wee Herman and Anthony Perkins (thus perhaps the gratuitous "Psycho" reference in the film?), is neither charming nor surprising; he lacks the sly warmth of Gene Wilder, who to my mind will *always* be the real Willy Wonka. His factory, resembling the assembly lines of "Edward Scissorhands," but on steroids, is a vast, impersonal cavern, without a single ring of emotional truth. Sure, all the kids but Charlie are brats -- but here, Willie Wonka is one too, and though Charlie may be a good boy, he gets very few speaking lines, and he and Grandpa Joe have as few occasions for fun as do we, the viewers.
During production, Burton talked about how he disliked the older version, and seemed to promise a darker version truer to Dahl's witty disdain for the the adult world. But here, everyone -- child, adult, and elderly person is insulted with visions whose "darkness" is not a product of melancholy, but of cynicism. There is no goodness here, no meaningful badness either. The first flashback to Wonka's dentist father (Chrisopher Lee, wonderful as ever) is a lovely touch, but the ending of the film, which demands that little Charlie somehow "heal" the wounded psyche of Wonka and re-unite him with his dentist dad, is the worst piece of poisoned treacle ever to leave a factory.
The whole thing ought to be flushed down a garbage chute -- it's a bad nut.