Tag: Gene Wilder

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.”

Young Frankenstein (1974)

YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN

YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN (1974) Four stars

Over a 20-year period from the late ‘60s to the late ’80s, Mel Brooks directed a series of inspired comedies: THE PRODUCERS, THE TWELVE CHAIRS, BLAZING SADDLES, YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN, SILENT MOVIE, HIGH ANXIETY, HISTORY OF THE WORLD PART I, and SPACEBALLS.

I’ll choose YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN as his best (i.e. my favorite) work.

It’s not his funniest work, per se, but you could put it on a DVD following FRANKENSTEIN, BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN, SON OF FRANKENSTEIN, and THE GHOST OF FRANKENSTEIN and it would be perfect. In fact, YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN nearly gives you the feeling that it’s a lost classic from Universal Studios during their reign of terror.

Brooks and co-writer and star Gene Wilder obviously loved Universal classics like FRANKENSTEIN. Brooks’ last feature film, DRACULA: DEAD AND LOVING IT, came in 1995, so Brooks took on Universal’s two most legendary monsters.

We can be sure the big boys at 20th Century Fox did not want YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN made in black & white. Some folks are guaranteed to say, “Black & white will never work again,” but what about every time it has worked over the years.

Wilder and Brooks based their characters on Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley’s original classic novel. They might as well have credited the screenwriters for the old Universal FRANKENSTEIN pictures.

All the technical people deserve their fair share of the credit for YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN: John Morris’ musical score, Gerald Hirschfeld’s cinematography, John C. Howard’s editing, Dale Hennesy’s production design, Robert De Vestel’s set decoration, Dorothy Jeakins’ costume design, and Edwin Butterworth’s, Mary Keats’, and William Tuttle’s work in the makeup department.

YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN benefits from using some of the same sets the original FRANKENSTEIN used.

Beyond the overall look and style of the picture, though, both the performances and the jokes are their usual grab bag that’s found in a Mel Brooks film.

Wilder’s obits called him “A Master of Hysteria” and he gave some of his defining performances in Mel Brooks comedies, namely THE PRODUCERS, BLAZING SADDLES, and YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN. There’s even the legendary “I’m hysterical and I’m wet” scene in THE PRODUCERS. Honestly, though, I prefer Wilder when he’s more calmer, more restrained and that patented hysteria did not work as well in his later pictures.

Wilder’s hysteria fits Dr. Frederick Frankenstein, the grandson of Victor Frankenstein, because British actor Colin Clive (1900-37) specialized in a bit of hysteria in FRANKENSTEIN and BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN.

Brooks himself does not appear as a main character in YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN, which differentiates it from later Brooks productions like SILENT MOVIE, HIGH ANXIETY, and HISTORY OF THE WORLD PART I.

Marty Feldman (1934-82) was perfect for the role of Igor (pronounced “EYE-gore”), Frankenstein’s hunchback compadre. Madeline Kahn (1942-99), Cloris Leachman, and Teri Garr insure that it’s not all about the boys — Kahn eventually makes a perfect bride for The Monster after being engaged to Frankenstein, Leachman plays a character and a name (Frau Blucher) loved by horses, and Garr’s cleavage deserves its own screen credit. Kenneth Mars’ police inspector Hans Wilhelm Friedrich Kemp calls to mind Dr. Strangelove in addition to his FRANKENSTEIN precursors. Gene Hackman makes a cameo as the blind hermit who befriends The Monster.

That brings us to The Monster, played by the great character actor Peter Boyle (1935-2006). I’ll make a case for Boyle being the second best actor to play The Monster, behind only the immortal Boris Karloff (1887-1969) who initiated the role. Boyle definitely gives a better performance than his TAXI DRIVER co-star Robert DeNiro did as “The Creation” in Kenneth Branagh’s MARY SHELLEY’S FRANKENSTEIN (1994). Of course, Boyle is the only Monster required to perform a soft-shoe number and he enjoys a domestic life.

Brooks practiced “saturation comedy,” a style where the jokes fly past fast and furious. It’s been said to not worry if you missed one joke because another one will be coming any moment. Brooks’ comedies are not quite as saturated as the works of the Zucker Brothers and Jim Abrahams during AIRPLANE!, TOP SECRET!, and THE NAKED GUN, which have jokes in virtually every inch of the frame. Saturation comedies are special because they believe in the intelligence of the audience, that we’re smart enough to get the jokes.

I’ll say that my favorite moment in YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN involves a revolving bookcase.