Tim Burton is one of Hollywood's most talented directors, a true visionary whose cinematic style is almost instantly recognizable. Like many great directors, he surrounds himself with a team of collaborators who work with him over and over again. On his latest film, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Burton has actors Johnny Depp, Christopher Lee, Deep Roy, Missi Pyle and Helena Bonham Carter (his girlfriend) making repeat appearances, as well as composer Danny Elfman, screenwriter John August, cinematographer Philippe Rousselot and editor Chris Lebenzon. Chocolate Factory marks the 11th teaming of Burton and Elfman. With all of his talent and a responsive repertory company, it's too bad that Burton once again takes on a remake of a classic film that didn't particularly need to be updated.
Like his 2001 version of Planet of the Apes, Chocolate Factory is billed as a "re-imagining" of the original novel on which Mel Stuart's 1971 film (retitled Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory) was based. Unlike Apes, Chocolate Factory actually adheres closely to its source material, the beloved book by legendary children's author Roald Dahl. Still, what Burton's film does that Stuart's didn't is minimal, and the changes he makes are almost all superficial. It's nearly impossible for Burton to make a bad movie (even the loud, incoherent Apes had its moments), and Chocolate Factory is almost always funny and entertaining. It's just a shame that such talent has gone into a product that's so redundant.
The story is the same as in Dahl's novel and Stuart's film: Eccentric candy mogul Willy Wonka (Depp), isolated for years in his factory, puts five golden tickets in randomly selected chocolate bars. The five children who find them get a grand tour of the factory, and the privilege of being the first outsiders allowed in for a long time. Hero Charlie (Freddie Highmore, Depp's Finding Neverland co-star) is a poor but good-hearted boy who's been admiring Wonka from afar, and he gets the chance of a lifetime when he finds a golden ticket. But the rest of the children are nasty and brutish: gluttonous Augustus Gloop (Philip Wiegratz), spoiled Veruca Salt (Julia Winter), gum-chewing Violet Beauregarde (Annasophia Robb) and video game-obsessed Mike Teavee (Jordon Fry).
One by one, the nasty children meet horrible fates, leaving Charlie and his loyal Grandpa Joe (David Kelly) the only ones on the factory tour. Burton brings the chocolate factory to fantastical life with the colorful, bizarre costumes and production design for which his films are known. No longer the orange-faced midgets of Stuart's films, Wonka's helpers, the Oompa Loompas, are all played by diminutive actor Deep Roy, shrunk down even beyond his 4-foot-4-inch frame. They still sing, though, although Burton's film is not a musical and the Oompa Loompa songs use lyrics directly from Dahl's book, set to Elfman's music. The result is some surprisingly catchy tunes.
Depp's performance as Wonka, on which the entire film hinges, is simultaneously disappointing and exhilarating. He brings a weird intensity to the character, whose look (pale face and strangely straight, dark hairdo) is reminiscent of Michael Jackson, but whose delivery is all Valley girl-meets-Dr. Evil (at times you expect him to tell the kids that he makes his candy with "frickin' laser beams"). But while Depp perfectly delivers a number of great deadpan lines, his Wonka has no depth. Gene Wilder's Wonka in Stuart's film was a maniacal egotist with a belligerent streak. He may have been crazy and really kind of a jerk, but at least he had a personality. Depp's Wonka is just bizarre, and the back story that Burton and screenwriter John August tack on (with Christopher Lee as Wonka's sadistic dentist dad), doesn't do much to flesh out the character. Instead, it only serves to lead into a syrupy ending that doesn't fit with the film's oddball tone.
If you've never seen the 1971 film, then Burton's Chocolate Factory will be an unmitigated delight, and it doesn't do anything to take away from the enjoyment of the family classic that so many grew up on. But it also fails to make much of a case for itself as a separate entity, and given how much time and effort goes into making a film, I can't help but wish all these talented people would have pooled their resources and done something genuinely new.