Jonah Naplan   December 22, 2023

“Wonka” is a warm and friendly movie, the cinematic equivalent of a teddy bear. It’s about dreams and the harsh roads it takes to achieve them, but beyond that, it’s the uplifting tale of an entrepreneur who overcomes poverty, doubt, and expectation to make his own way in a troubled world. We all know Willy Wonka, the dream-maker of Roald Dahl’s bestselling 1964 novel Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, which was adapted into the 1971 film “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory” starring Gene Wilder, and again in 2005 starring Johnny Depp and directed by Tim Burton. But now we have a prequel to both of those iterations—Wonka’s origin story—a “confection” by Paul King, who helmed both of the terrific “Paddington” movies, and starring Timothée Chalamet, one of Hollywood’s hottest stars who’s only been in the business for nine years but already has several great movies under his belt. This is another.

The movie opens with a young Wonka porting into some sort of European coastal town with a smile and a song, eager to begin a new life and hopefully a career selling his delicious chocolate. He holds onto a candy bar emblazoned with his last name made by his late mother (played by Sally Hawkins only in flashback), and carries baggage, including a magical hat with as many secret compartments as Mary Poppins’ victorian carpet bag. He longs to open up shop in the Galeries Gourmet, the chocolate emporium ruled over by a trifecta of evil businessmen, Slugworth (Paterson Joseph), Prodnose (Matt Lucas), and Fickelgruber (Matthew Banton), who run a sort of underground chocolate cartel that’s not only responsible for the manufacture and distribution of the city’s candy, but their close ties with the police department enforce laws that ensure they’ll always stay on top of the industry.

Wonka’s first chocolate showcase goes awry, and he ends up without a single silver sovereign (this world’s currency) in his pocket, desperate for a safe place to stay the night. His path converges at Mrs. Scrubbit’s (a perfectly vile Olivia Colman) homey inn, also occupied by her menacing right-hand man Bleacher (Tom Davis), a duo that seems nice at first but hides something much sinister up their sleeves. Neglecting to read the fine print on the contract, Wonka unwittingly buys himself into a money-scamming scheme that forces the buyer into paying for simple things like walking up the stairs, or using a bar of soap—the “mini-bar.” The consequence is involuntary labor; Wonka is thrown into a basement laundry operation along with a row of other servants, including the adolescent Noodle (Calah Lane), who becomes Willy’s partner in crime, a refreshing dynamic that’s charming as much as it is surprisingly moving. The rest of the film sorts out Wonka’s journey to opening a chocolate shop of his own, complete with all the unique fixings we’ll continue to see echoes of in his eventual factory, a location only briefly depicted at the end.

Chalamet is absolutely perfect here, bringing just the right amount of joy and charisma to the role; a worthy successor to Wilder’s beloved run as the same character. By this point in his life, Wonka is not yet the trickster we’ve learned him to be—instead, he’s innocent, only looking for trouble when he reckons it’s the only way to get what he wants, which is, more often than not, to simply squeeze his way out of a tricky or awkward situation. He’s the undeniable beating heart of the movie’s many wondrous song and dance numbers, bolstered by his ability to really sing like he means it. Of course, Chalamet has been the subject of girl crushes for as long as he’s been starring in modern movies—the first one that really put him on the map being Luca Guadagnino’s “Call Me By Your Name”—but he’s also a terrific actor who can put on a great show when given the right material.

Yet Chalamet is often fighting over the spotlight with a mighty crowd of supporting actors who are just as committed to their quirky roles as he is. Each member of the cast plays to their strengths in a way we see far too little of in Hollywood; over exaggerating their quirks or pernicious attitudes to make the whimsy of the narrative stand out. All of the servants are affixed with some interesting character trait, the most notable being Abacus Crunch (Jim Carter), a former accountant of Slugworth’s, who’s Wonka’s key to exposing the trio’s cruel intentions. Other standouts include Keegan-Michael Key as the eccentric police chief who grows so (secretly) fond of Wonka's chocolate that he gains 150 pounds, recalling Augustus Gloop from Dahl’s original, and Rowan Atkinson as Father Julius, perfectly ludicrous as ever. But, really, who could forget Hugh Grant’s portrayal of the only Oompa-Loompa this movie depicts—a splendid fusion of deadpan sincerity and smart-aleck cunningness—whose best scenes are not spoiled in the trailer? The movie makes for one of my favorite ensemble performances of the whole year.

But it’s not just the characters that amaze, it’s the stunning and fascinating world they inhabit, too. “Wonka” exists in a sort of psychedelia where everyone sings and dances and gathers around plazas to hear the tales and witness the magic of an outcast, unperturbed by disturbance, and excited to embrace the unknown, even if it’s uncertain. I’d like to live there. The world of “Wonka” is so visually pleasing but also morally sweet, like a piece of candy. Even the villains aren’t exactly “evil” so much as they’re cartoonishly diabolical with their audacious plots, twirling mustaches, and thumbs that twiddle. They’re far from menacing; scenes hold them at vulnerable moments mainly for laughs, but also so we can see that they, too, are a part of the fun.

The majority of the film’s music is original, and it’s all choreographed and shot beautifully by Chung-hoon Chung, whose visuals angle to give us the best possible view of the magic. There’s something to be said for a modern movie that’s this magical in tone and spirit and derives its strength not from action setpieces but wondrous song and dance numbers, and the film clears up all concerns about whether or not it would be in poor taste to translate Dahl’s grotesque configurations of human anatomy to film, by making the topsy-turvy atmosphere the status quo. But what “Wonka” achieves, most of all, is a genuine wonder, one of the most cinematic examples of it this year. It transcends, and it’s powerful, beyond pure imagination.

Now playing in theaters.