Wonka (2023) Is the Wholesome Shit We All Need

Wonka starts off with a song from the first minute and flows from scene to scene with minor problems. A prequel of a kind, a young Willy Wonka wants to start a chocolate shop but is hindered by the machinations of a chocolate cartel that controls the police, the church, and the local economy. Willy uses the power of optimism and childlike magical realism to just hammer his way through obstacles and gain friends, played with charm and vigor by Timothee Chalamet. Everyone in the cast does a damn good job being quirky and somehow real despite the over the top nature of the production. The visuals only suffer from some rushed effects (including the dead stop that is the Oompa Loompa), but overall the movie is delightful with catchy songs and a new story that feels "Wonka." The references to the later stories are organic and well done, but the best is the leitmotif of Pure Imagination that caused me to tear up a little and pour one out for Gene Wilder in my heart and on the kid next to me. Overall a damn good time that's wholesome and needed, if not in the world than by me.

The following will have spoilers and probably me working through some shit:

Not fucking around as a musical

Shit starts right off with a song. No joke, I felt a little worried as he danced around like a foppish jack sparrow for the first few minutes on a ship. But then the song ended and he carried on, talking like a real person and stuff. And I liked him, not just as a handsome actor guy but as a character and person. Everyone does damn well twirling around with their songs. I like musicals in general, and while this one only had a few songs (the "World of Your Own" shop opening song was fun) that I remember, it just washed over me.

Childlike magic realism

For some reason this kept coming to mind. The movie has an internal logic that's childish, magical, yet grounded. Wonka's chocolate, for example. Sure some of it has a bug in it that can make you fly, but another has some thunder and (something else, I forget) to bring hope while Wonka and Noodle talk about their future. Or the zoo scene with milking a giraffe that ends with the balloon dance. Light, beautiful, and a little silly if you think too hard about it.

Chalamet is charming, kind, mad

Wonka here is a proto-version of what we know. That's gonna piss some people off, but I like that we don't know what he doesn't know. It's a surprise when he can't read or fucks up and gets tricked and hit. And that he has hope, a wish to share what his mother gave him. He's human, and I really liked that he could become the hermit with an army of small singing men but right now he's not.

Greedy Beats Needy

I did not expect the class struggle that involved the church. Holy shit, that made me love this movie more. Including the scene with the funeral, Rowan Atkinson picking up the phone, "Hello, pulpit" as if he normally takes calls there. Then the guerilla, underground way our heroes have to organize to reach the people. Getting out their message like street preachers and food trucks until they can establish themselves and be the establishment.

Pure Imagination

Every time this little song played, I teared up a little. At the end when it played, I teared up a little. I love this song and they didn't fuck it up.

Oompa Loompa a little too much

Hugh Grant does great, but the effect and the character in general sucks. The little man seems cut and pasted into shots, his little stupid costumes and outfits not fitting the overall feel of the story. It's like they just mashed him into the story as an afterthought. Just wrote the story out and then were like, "shit, we forgot the oompa loompas." Every time he came on screen, it stopped the story cold. You could cut the character, and it would be fine.

Shepherd Take Warning

A man in a yellow coat walked the stacks of the library. Back and forth, he stalked and ran his finger along the spines making a quiet little rattle on the metal shelves. He looked for nothing, wanted little, and let his eyes search.

"Anything I can help you with?" a page shelving some cookbooks said.

He smiled and said no in a low voice like thunder a mile off.

"Sorry," a teenager in the fiction section said, moving aside to let the man in the yellow coat pass.

The man nodded and passed. The teenager smelled cinnamon and clover.

A librarian saw the man pass the window in front of the backroom. The librarian was binding a book that had been torn by a dog. He had already cleaned off the piss that the dog had left. No stains, just a few sprinkles on the book jacket. At least that's what the patron had said his dog did. The librarian had said thank you and taken the bag with the torn book with a little urine on it. No fee. The dog owner could not afford the title, a nonfiction reference book about training Doberman pinchers, and the librarian could not be bothered. As the man in the yellow coat passed the window, though, the librarian was bothered.

"I think something's wrong," the librarian binding the book said to the other librarian.

The other librarian had her email displayed on the computer and swiped her phone. She had been on a dating app looking for someone to spend Saturday night with. She paid extra for the app to show her matches that liked movies and to hide anyone over five foot, five inches. Man or woman, she liked them short. She asked what the book binder meant.

"Just a feeling. Saw this guy," the binder said.

Swiper looked up. "What kind of guy?"

"Guy in a yellow coat."

"Like, he might open the yellow coat?"

"No, not that kind of coat. And it was open. I think he had a t-shirt and jeans under it."

Swiper looked back at her phone to see Jeremy, five foot three inches of accountant. She swiped. "Want me to take a look?"

Binder, standing now, said, "I'll check it out."

He found the man in the yellow coat on the second floor, staring out a window over the tire market next door and the cemetery beyond. He pretended to straighten some shelves, but the man turned a little and said, "Rain."

Binder looked out, not seeing a drop. "I think it might tonight."

"It will," the man said. "It always rains when the sky is red like it was this morning. You know that?"

"I don't think so."

"Red sky at night is a shepherd's delight. Red sky in morning, a shepherd take warning." He said it sing-song, like a nursery rhyme or some tune he had almost forgotten. "It's true. Works how the sun shines through the clouds, those coming and going bouncing all that dust and water around and making the color turn. It's in the Bible."

"Huh," Binder said.

"It's also a nice little rhyme, don't you think?"

"My grandpa used to say it."

"Yeah."

They stood looking out over the tire place and the setting sun. It all went from yellow to blue and right at the end there was a flash of green on the horizon.

"Whoa, did you-" Binder said and turned but the man in the yellow coat had gone.

Rain began to drip and tap on the window. It went slow at first then harder, the drops fat and heavy. Binder went to the backroom feeling outside himself. Something inside had become green and dark.

Swiper worked on her email, the phone next to the keyboard. She typed as he entered, finishing and looking back at Binder. "You okay?"

"Red sky in the morning," he said.

Swiper said, "Sailor take warning."

"I always heard shepherd."

Swiper felt something for him then. Her coworker had a sadness, a deep empty look that made her want to wrap him up in her arms and hold him. Let him cry and hold on to her while she stroked his head and called him "sweet boy." She told herself it was the rain, making her want to feel cuddly and cozy, as he went back to fixing the book and she went to see if the page needed help with the cookbooks before they closed.

Shh, We're Hunting Geese

A man with a shotgun over his shoulder and a short sword at his waist walked into the library and right up to the circulation desk. He asked to see the manager. The librarian on duty came and got me from my office, telling me shit might be about to go down.

     "Sir, first off, you can't bring a weapon in the library. Please take those outside," I said.

     "Aw shit. Yeah, well, can you come too?" he said.

     I said I could and followed him to the front door. I'm single, nobody waiting for me to come home, and have lived a good life. I thought about telling the librarian at the desk to tell my mom I loved her, but that seemed overkill.

     Outside, he pointed to a flock of Canadian geese walking around the lawn. The large gray, black, and white creatures pecked at each other and the grass. A few eyed us. They were all adults as far as I could tell but then again I have no idea what a teenage goose looks like.

      He said, "Those yours?"

     "The geese?" I said.

     "Yeah."

     "I don't own any animals."

     "No. Like the library. They in your yard. Y'all takin care of them or something?"

     I thought a moment. As far as I know, I had not entered into any protective agreement with the creatures. I told him no.

     "Okay then," he said. "I'm gonna get one. Mind being backup?"

     "What exactly is happening?"

     "Well, Canadian geese there, those are good eatin. Usually I just get the ones on my property, over out by the lake. Seems they don't come around much anymore. Anyway, they mostly just dumb. You can walk right up to them and get'em quick. One hard swipe." He pulled the short sword from his belt and gave it a swing, right to left. "But they can get mean, and when there's a bunch it's best to use scatter shot."

     "So to get this straight. You're going to walk over there, cut the head off a goose, and if they get mad about it I'm supposed to break it up with the shotgun," I said.

     "That's about the skinny," he said, thrusting out the shotgun.

     "Sir, this is a library."

     "Yeah. But they don't know that."

     "There's kids inside."

     He lowered the shotgun to his side. "So that's a no."

     "I'm pretty sure it's illegal to shoot a weapon in the city limits. Probably some hunting laws, too."

     "You gonna call the sheriff?"

     "Not the sheriff, but city police are right across the street."

     "Oh, shit. Why didn't I think of that? Thank you, library man," and he walked off toward the police station. 

     I watched him go and decided to do paperwork in my office all afternoon. I told the librarian on duty to call me when they heard something. They asked what kind of something, and I said they would know.

     Twenty minutes later children began screaming. A man began hollering. Two shotgun blasts filled the town square. I peaked out to see the man holding a headless bird by the neck, a city police officer holding the shotgun and standing over a bloody pile of feathers. Several geese were fleeing the scene. 

      The librarian on duty knocked on my door.