Tag: Frank Morgan

Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory (1971)

WILLY WONKA

WILLY WONKA & THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY (1971) Three-and-a-half stars

Over the years, many individual performers have walked away with a movie and made it their own. For example, Gene Wilder in WILLY WONKA & THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY.

Wilder provides one of the great movie entrances at about the 45-minute mark of the picture and it’s about darn time because it’s a bit of a slog before we reach the chocolate factory. Our expectations are very high by this point in the picture and Wilder’s Willy Wonka meets and even surpasses them. It was Wilder himself who insisted that he make such an entrance.

“When I make my first entrance, I’d like to come out of the door carrying a cane and then walk toward the crowd with a limp,” Wilder said. “After the crowd sees Willy Wonka is a cripple, they all whisper to themselves and then become deathly quiet. As I walk toward them, my cane sinks into one of the cobblestones I’m walking on and stands straight up, by itself; but I keep on walking, until I realize that I no longer have my cane. I start to fall forward, and just before I hit the ground, I do a beautiful forward somersault and bounce back up, to great applause.”

This entrance establishes Wonka’s unpredictability right from the start.

Wilder magnificently expresses all the sides of Willy Wonka’s personality. It turns on a dime from joy and wonder to malevolent anger at the selfish children who found their golden ticket in a Wonka bar. Their golden tickets earned the children a pass to Wonka’s factory. The five children are Augustus Gloop, Veruca Salt, Violet Beauregarde, Mike Teavee, and Charlie Bucket and they are each joined by one parent or grandparent in the case of final ticket winner Charlie Bucket. The bad children are punished in unspeakable, horrifying ways for their indiscretions. That’ll show ‘em and serves ‘em right, greedy little bastards.

When the beloved Wilder died in 2016 at the age of 83, I thought immediately of his performance as Willy Wonka and his spotlight song “Pure Imagination,” a number written by the British duo of Leslie Bricusse and Anthony Newley. “If you want to view paradise / Simply look around and view it / Anything you want to do it / Wanna change the world / There’s nothing to it / There is no life I know / To compare with pure imagination / Living there you’ll be free / If you truly wish to be.” At its very, very best, WILLY WONKA approaches THE WIZARD OF OZ and Wilder’s on par with Margaret Hamilton and Frank Morgan and gang. They all share a certain joy of performance that’s wonderful to behold.

Like THE WIZARD OF OZ, WILLY WONKA undoubtedly introduced multitudes of children to scary movies. The Haunted Forest, the Wicked Witch of the West, flying monkeys, et cetera, in the 1939 film and the Oompa-Loompas and the boat ride in WILLY WONKA.

“Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” author Roald Dahl (1916-90) absolutely hated the 1971 screen adaptation. Dahl received credit for writing the screenplay, but it was the uncredited David Seltzer who came in and made script changes that raised Dahl’s ire.

What did Mr. Dahl hate about the picture? The shift in focus from Charlie to Willy Wonka. Check. The musical numbers. Check. Casting Gene Wilder rather than Spike Milligan, Dahl’s stated preference. Check. Guess the question should be changed to what didn’t Mr. Dahl hate about WILLY WONKA. This whole situation reminds one that Stephen King hates Stanley Kubrick’s THE SHINING.

I saw WILLY WONKA for the first time in fifth grade (1990) and read Dahl’s novel the next school year. I loved Dahl’s novel, but I have not read it since completing it during sixth grade, roughly the same age as the precocious golden ticket winners. Meanwhile, I have seen the 1971 version several times since that first encounter nearly three decades ago, on cable TV (Teavee), VHS, and DVD. I do think of the film more often than I do the book, and I believe that it has almost everything to do with the Wilder performance.

I have skipped Tim Burton’s 2005 adaptation CHARLIE & THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY & I just remember being appalled from the start by still photographs of Johnny Depp’s take on Willy Wonka. Remember that scene in ANIMAL HOUSE when the older members of Delta Tau Chi pelt that picture of pledge Flounder with beer cans? That’s about how I feel every time I see a picture of Depp as Wonka. (Generally speaking, I have no problem with Burton and Depp movies. I love ED WOOD and like SLEEPY HOLLOW and SWEENEY TODD a lot.)

In a 2013 interview with Turner Classic Movies host Robert Osborne (1932-2017), Wilder shared his true feelings on the 2005 version.

“I think it’s an insult,” he said. “Johnny Depp, I think, is a good actor, but I don’t care for that director [Tim Burton]. He’s a talented man, but I don’t care for him doing stuff like he did.”

The Wizard of Oz (1939)

THE WIZARD OF OZ

THE WIZARD OF OZ (1939) Four stars

I watched THE WIZARD OF OZ for the first time since my Grandma died and the experience naturally brought on a lot of precious memories.

After all, I watched THE WIZARD OF OZ for the first (and second and third …) time at my Grandma’s house. She loved the movie and every now and then, she also talked about how many times she went to the movies to watch GONE WITH THE WIND. It was several, and I can remember hearing the delight in her voice just talking about it. She turned 10 years old in 1939, one of Hollywood’s hallowed years with MGM productions THE WIZARD OF OZ and GONE WITH THE WIND headlining. GONE WITH THE WIND was the TITANIC of its day, but a 4-hour historical soap opera did not enter my priority list until college. I watched THE WIZARD OF OZ a good dozen times before I got through GONE WITH THE WIND even once.

It was the CBS broadcast of THE WIZARD OF OZ that we watched together and the first time I can remember it I must have been 8 years old. Like IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE, THE WIZARD OF OZ became an annual TV event for generations of Americans. I first watched IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE at my Grandma’s house and it assumed the position of a holiday tradition for many years. I want to say that IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE played on the local NBC affiliate.

Seeing THE WIZARD OF OZ for the 20th or 30th or 40th or 50th time (I lost track) in my life before this review, I found myself singing the songs, yes, every single line of every single darn song, but the most pleasure I experienced came from imitating the Wicked Witch of the West (Margaret Hamilton). I mean, I doubt that anybody who’s ever watched THE WIZARD OF OZ can resist imitating her voice on the all-time classic line “I’ll get you, my little pretty, and your little dog, too.” Hamilton virtually steals the movie and she’s so much more fun than that darn Glinda the Good Witch (Billie Burke), whose goodness decreases over time.

The Wicked Witch finished in fourth place on the American Film Institute’s top 50 villains list (2003), behind Hannibal Lecter, Norman Bates, and Darth Vader and ahead of Nurse Ratched, Mr. Potter, Alex Forrest, Phyllis Dietrichson, Regan MacNeil (when possessed), and the Evil Queen in the top 10.

Ironically enough, Hamilton served as a school teacher before her acting career. She became known for terrifying children … but she retained a lifelong commitment to education.

I wish I could have met Hamilton (1902-85).

“Almost always they want me to laugh like the Witch,” she said. “And sometimes when I go to schools, if we’re in an auditorium, I’ll do it. And there’s always a funny reaction, like they wish they hadn’t asked. They’re scared. They’re really scared for a second. Even adolescents. I guess for a minute they get the feeling they got when they watched the picture. They like to hear it but they don’t like to hear it. And then they go, ‘Oh…’ The picture made a terrible impression of some kind on them, sometimes a ghastly impression, but most of them got over it, I guess. … Because when I talk like the Witch and when I laugh, there is a hesitation, and then they clap. They’re clapping at hearing the sound again.”

THE WIZARD OF OZ served as many people’s introduction to scary movies. (Throw in classic Disney films SNOW WHITE and PINOCCHIO, as well, both of which I remember first watching during roughly the same period as when I first watched THE WIZARD OF OZ.)

Not only the Wicked Witch, but also somebody wanting to take your pet away, running away from home, a tornado, them flying monkeys, et cetera, they’re all terrifying, especially to a small child watching it for the first time. (Please consider the film left out the most gruesome details from the L. Frank Baum source material.)

THE WIZARD OF OZ shows us how much fun it can be to be scared.

That’s just one way the film reaches us.

Hamilton herself talked about its seemingly everlasting appeal.

“THE WIZARD OF OZ keeps coming back every year,” she said, “because it’s such a beautiful film. I don’t think any of us knew how lovely it was at first. But, after a while, we all began to feel it coming together and knew we had something. I can watch it again and again and remember wonderful Judy, Bert, Ray, Jack, Billie, Frank and how wonderful they all were. The scene that always gets to me, though, and I think it’s one of the most appealing scenes I’ve ever seen, is the one where the Wizard gives the gifts to them at the end. Frank (Morgan) was just like that as a person. And every time I see him do it, the tears come to my eyes. I listen to the words. I think of Frank, and I know how much he meant what he said, and how much the words themselves mean.”

I devoted much space to Hamilton and the Wicked Witch, but there are at least six more beloved characters and performers: Dorothy Gale (Judy Garland, 1922-69), the Scarecrow (Ray Bolger, 1904-87), the Tin Man (Jack Haley, 1898-1979), the Cowardly Lion (Bert Lahr, 1895-1967), Toto (Terry, 1933-45), and the Wizard (Frank Morgan, 1890-1949). They go a long way toward making THE WIZARD OF OZ a classic that will persevere down the ages.

On this latest go-around, I again noticed how much of an influence WIZARD OF OZ had on George Lucas when he made STAR WARS.

THE WIZARD OF OZ grabs us early on, precisely at the moment when Garland begins singing “Over the Rainbow,” and it just builds and builds for the next 90-odd minutes.

Eighty years after it premiered (Aug. 25, 1939), I now have one more reason to watch it moving forward. Grandma, it felt like you were right there with me.