There is something both unnecessary yet totally fitting about the new musical prequel to the 1971 film Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory (itself an adaptation of the Roald Dahl book of a slightly different name). It makes sense, in that director Paul King received much acclaim for his adaptation of another beloved children’s literature property in Paddington. It is unnecessary in the same way that any modern-day IP reboot has to justify itself beyond the motivation of cashing in. Wonka is far less lazy than most of these reboot efforts, but it also never shakes the sense of being inessential.

The film’s opening number does a clever job of establishing the basic premise (in short, consumer capitalism suppresses true entrepreneurial spirit and creative innovation for the sake of monopolistic stability and commodity homogenization). It is also funny (the song, that is). As a young Willy Wonka (Timothee Chalamet) docks in a nameless urban center, eager to make good on his life-long dream of becoming a successful chocolatier, he quickly realizes the competitive world of the free market has no patience for a naïve, bright-eyed person who places his trust in everyone he meets. Slowly, 12 sovereign coins dwindles to none, leaving Wonka in a tight financial spot (which only gets tighter by the end of act one).

It’s a good song. Unfortunately, no other number rises to the same occasion. Mostly, the songs sound similar and fail to provoke the magic that they make claim to. Chalamet, who is otherwise serviceable in the role (being second best out of three isn’t that bad), struggles to handle a limited musical range. As for his characterization of the well-known children’s literature mogul, he fares well balancing the slowly-draining hopefulness of an imaginative young person entering the workforce with the unpredictable (to the point of erratic) wiliness of the character’s older self. Gene Wilder’s Wonka is a manic ball of energy struggling to maneuver in the tight socket of the world or reason. Chalamet’s is only occasionally this offbeat (which, frankly, I feel is a better choice than an imitation). He is, instead, in more wide-eyed awe of the world around him. It is fitting, as that world will try and break him, and the older version of this character has evidently learned that if one is to awe at the world they will have to create the awe-inspiring themselves.

Thematically, it all works just fine. Narratively, this prequel works to create magic in unexpected places (like in, for instance, an underground laundry sweat shop populated by debtors who are, essentially, legal slaves). This makes for interesting settings for set pieces that are otherwise uninteresting. Toiling away in a makeshift debtor’s prison, milking a zebra, eating poisoned candy flowers. It doesn’t add up to much. The A-plot involving a chocolatier “cartel” of capitalism and corruption (which also involves the church, for some reason) depicts cloyingly mustache-twirling villains. And the backstory of Wonka’s mother, which is asked to do a lot of emotional heavy-lifting, is underdeveloped to the point of feeling stuffed in as an afterthought.

To its credit, Wonka spares us the nostalgic acid reflux that comes with the legacy prequel/sequel. One oompa-loompa and a “Slugworth” nod is enough. Paul King and his production team also conjure up one or two nicely decorated sets, and the costume design from Lindy Hemming is more colorful than most of what the script can offer. Taken as a whole, though, Wonka is less than remarkable.

Wonka: C

---

As always, thanks for reading!

—Alex Brannan (Twitter, Letterboxd, Facebook)