In a move that will surprise absolutely no-one, Wonka begins with a slowed-down tinkly version of ‘Pure Imagination’, the hymn to the power of creativity sung by Gene Wilder in Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory. It’s perhaps the most obvious gambit in Paddington director’s Paul King’s origin story for the top-hatted candy man, a film that breezes by on a waft of ingenuity, charm and warmth, all delivered with gusto by Timothée Chalamet, Hugh Grant and a host of British comedy stars.
The set-up sees a wide-eyed Wonka (Chalamet) looking to launch his own chocolate shop but hamstrung by a nefarious chocolate cartel, a triumvirate of comedy-named fat cats: Slugworth (Paterson Joseph), Fickelgruber (Mathew Baynton) and Prodnose (Matt Lucas). Chasing his dream, Wonka is tricked into servitude in a laundry, meets orphan Noodle (Lane), unleashes hover-chocs, and has run-ins with the tallest Oompa Loompa, Lofty (Hugh Grant — you wish he was on screen more), the little guy determined to get his stolen cocoa beans back from the chocolatier.
The script is studded with delicious details, be it visual conceits or off-the-wall ideas.
Lest we forget, Wonka is a musical. Of course, King has form in this arena — who can forget Paddington 2’s chorus-line of prison inmates? — but he scales up here, staging bigger numbers but still retaining the lightness and wit. The songs, by The Divine Comedy’s Neil Hannon, are engaging and likeable, from an ode to the drudgery of laundry (the Bugsy Malone-esque ‘Scrub, Scrub’) to an exuberant celebration of the joys of Wonka’s chocolates, the best of the bunch ‘A World Of Your Own’, sung to commemorate Wonka’s chocolate-shop opening. Happily, Wonka doesn’t just flirt with the idea of a musical — it fully commits, and is all the more joyous for it.
As with Paddington 2, King and co- screenwriter Simon Farnaby’s writing is at its best concocting crazy schemes involving the unlikeliest elements (one involves a faux Bavarian aristocrat; another involves milking a giraffe). Similarly, the script is studded with delicious details, be it visual conceits (Wonka lighting a candle by blowing on it) or off-the-wall ideas (the cartel’s incriminating ledger is guarded by Rowan Atkinson’s corrupt cleric and 500 chocoholic monks). It’s a delightful, daffy world, and a pleasure to spend time in.
Occasionally it veers too close to a Harrogate panto for comfort (see Olivia Colman’s Mrs Scrubbit), but Chalamet keeps you invested, treading a nifty line between eccentricity and sincerity, embracing the twinkle of Wilder while avoiding the creepiness of Depp. The most kind-hearted on-screen hero in years, Wonka embodies Wonka’s strongest (purple) suit: a huge generosity of spirit.
