Wonka gives me the Willies.

What do you get when you remake a flick?
With scenery bright, and the CGI thick?
What do you get when you’re so out of step?
Memories smashed by Burton and Depp?

Childhood lost forever…

Oompa Loompa Doompity-Doo.
In Willy’s voice there’s something askew.
Oompa Loompa Doompity Deep…
Something about him gives me the creeps….


Now, let it be known, for public record that, overall, I liked both Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. But there’s nothing funny or clever or witty or insightful about liking something. That’s fine for moviegoers, but not for critics. The job of a critic is to be *negative,* to be *critical.* To meet everything that is pure and beautiful and funny and enjoyable with a haughty raised eyebrow, crossed arms, and a lips contemptuously pulled back into a smear. The job of the critic is to use lofty latiny or frenchy sounding words like “oeuvre” and “magnum opus” and “frommage l’escargo pluribus unum.” The job of a critic, most of all, is to make clever demeaning puns using the movie titles. Like, say, “Fantastic Fart” or “Bad News Bears Bares Bad News Badly.”

Many movies have subtle messages woven into them. For example, the basic message of Jurassic Park was, “Dude. Don’t try to resurrect dinosaurs from extinction and put them in a modern day secluded theme park and hire a corrupt computer expert”, which is a lesson we, quite frankly, can all learn from.

Here are several of the messages woven into Charlie and the Chocolate factory.

1)Play Lotto. ESPECIALLY if you’re poor. Now, some people may say you’re wasting your time, or wasting your money, and that you should spend it on other things like “food” or “utilities” or “insulin,” but don’t let their negative Nancy attitude deter you. There’s always a chance you may win. And if you do, for goodness sakes, don’t spend it on something ‘responsible.’ Splurge! You only get one go-around at life, and you should make it short as possible.

2) Don’t listen to your Dentist. Dentists are evil, kids! They never want you to have *any* fun. Braces are shackles. Toothpaste is the opiate of the massess. Flossing is what the *man* want’s you to do. Instead, eat candy! (But not too much.)

You’ve probably already heard about the plot. Willy Wonka grows up psychologically scarred from having Count Dooku as his father and dentist. (“You have chosen the way of PAIN!” his father bellows as he tightens Willy’s braces.)

Willy runs away from home and starts his own Chocolate Store, gradually, through a series of shrewd competitive business strategies, malicious mergers, blitzkrieg buyouts, insider trading, and by selling what is possibly the most addictive substance on earth- he creates the largest chocolate Empire in the world. Of course, there were mysterious accidents. The CEO of World Famous Chocolate found dead with an everlasting Gobstopper stuck in his throat, the fire that consumed Hershey, Pennsylvania triggered by an errant squirrel, and the allegations leaked to the press that Mr. Goodbar had been using Charleston Chew.

Soon Wonka reigned supreme. The cold-hearted chocolate baron, however, was always looking for ways to increase his profit margin. He turned his merciless eye to his employees. He’d already cut all the benefits that he could think of. Medical. Auto. And especially Dental. He could make even more money, he realized, by hiring workers from across the border. While it wasn’t exactly legal, the immigrants from Oompa Loompa Land would work for cheaper wages, longer hours, and most of all- they could dance Man! they could dance..

Later, Wonka sends out five golden tickets, hidden within five Wonka bars.

Chaos ensues. There are massive lines. Riots in the streets. Fires. Forgery. Leaked Information. And that was just over the newest Harry Potter book.

The tickets cause quite a stir as well, and soon the Golden tickets are discovered by five different children, one finds one because he eats a lot of Chocolate, another finds one because she is competitive, another because she has a rich Dad, another uses an algorithmic approach to reverse engineering the likely destinations based on mathematical probabilities and string theory. And one, Charlie, wins one because- hey!- he’s the protagonist!

That’s when the movie starts getting weird.

Willy Wonka isn’t your typical egomaniacal businessman. He’s a pale-faced, socially-challenged, childish creep of a man, with hints Peter Pan Syndrome, narcissism, repression, schizophrenia, denial, delusions of grandeur, mood swings, avoidance syndrome, obsessive-compulsion, anti-social personality disorder, and B.O. (Although, as a friend of mine might say, on the plus side, he *does* have nice teeth.)

In layman’s terms, Wonka is a few snozzberries short of a snozzberry bush.

And this movie is about this guy trying to give kids CANDY.

I SAW FILMS ABOUT THIS IN FOURTH GRADE! “If a man tries to lure you into his mysterious factory, using offers of Candy, just say “NO!” Even if he promises the candy will have nougats.

The movie takes a disturbing turn from there, like a Slasher film meets the Yellow Submarine music video. In a way, it’s like the movie Se7en (pronounced Sesevenen). One by one, creative poetic justice is payed out upon those who transgress. Except instead of popular sins like “murder” or “adultery” these sins seem less… well… mortal.

Gum Chewing? Greed? Liking TV? Gluttony? This is America! We don’t have the Statue of Lipid-ity swaying back and forth over New York for nothing.

Nevertheless, like a perverse Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle, one by one, the children are offed in cruel and unusual ways. Let’s just say that you’ll never look at a squirrel the same way again. The children survive- like the son in the Monkey’s Paw- but each are mutilated beyond repair. That’s just what you get… for chewing gum. Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.

I can just see the personal injury lawsuits.

“Now, Violet, can you please state for the jury exactly *what* the accused turned you into?”

“A… blueberry, sir.”

“And did Mr. Wonka have a PERMIT for transmogrification? Did he even keep Violet refrigerated so she didn’t spoil? Did he spray her with pesticides to keep the bugs away? No! No! And No! Mr. William W. Wonka- if that is his *real* name- might have well have prepared a giant pool of *pancake batter*!
---------

As to this movie compared to the old one… let’s just say I was… Wilder… about the old one. Gene was insane in a happy, whimsical sort of way. Depp’s insane in an “I just might add some human babies into my chocolate stew” kind of way.

And don’t even get me started on Oompa Loompas. If you really want me to get filled with righteous anger, get me started on Oompa Loompas. First of all- this is a fact, you can look it up on Encarta- Oompa Loompa’s are orange. And they have a certain song that they sing. It involves the word Oompa Loompa. It’s not technically synthesized or fused with Danny Elfman vocals. It’s a simple song, that says the word Oompa Loompa a lot. Possibly Doompity Doo. But definitely Oompa Loompa.

Oompa Loompa’s are not, experts agree, Indian Midget Variety Actor clones dressed in silver jumpsuits.

Of course, the biggest change is the ending, which has the typical Tim Burton twist:

Charlie finally escapes from the nightmarish topsy-turvy funhouse world of the Chocolate Factory. His last sight of his grandfather is of him being swarmed by Oompa Loompas brandishing Miltary-Issue Lolipops. “Run, Charlie!” his grandpa yells in between blows, “I can’t hold them off forever!”

Charlie stumbles out into the rain, dazed. Wearily, we staggers over to the nearby Lincoln Memorial. As he stares up into Lincoln’s eyes, a flash of lightning reveals the frightening truth. Lincoln’s face is that of an Oompa Loompa.

Charlie falls to his knees in despair, “NOOOOOOOOO! Dang them! Dang them all to heck!”

Now if I could trouble you for a stick of gum? Yes, I’ll take the blueberry one.

Bird Botching

Any comic book connoisseur worth his weight in Kryptonite knows the background story of Red Robin. In The Amazing Red Robin: Issue 1: Fowl Play, Robert Crow,a mild-mannered restaurant waiter, is fatefully hit by a radioactive bird dropping (The bird had been feeding on worms near Hanford. You know, the ones with the red eyes and teeth.)

Naturally, before he could clean it off the DNA and RNA and ACL and the Mitosises… all combined and merged and altered Robert Crow… permanently. Now, whenever there was a wiff of injustice in the air, whenever they were children in the need of being entertained, whenever there was a photo-op that needed to be created, Robert could run to the nearest supply closet, and in a matter of fifteen minutes be transformed into RED ROBIN! THE AVIAN AVENGER! He steps out of the closet and utters that heroic catchphrase, “Uh… could somebody help me with this zipper?

Yesterday, I was first called upon to assume the mantle of Red Robin. I slipped into the costume- well, maybe slipped isn’t the right word. I *bungled* into the costume in the 2x3 supply closet. And *yes* the Red Robin Costume does make me look fat.

The bottom of the costume consists of yellow tights. Although I am very secure in my masculinity, I *usually* avoid wearing tights. Except at Ballet lessons, of course. And in emergencies. And on Tuesdays.

It took me the longest time to figure out how to put the gloves on. No matter which way I turned them, they still felt wrong, somehow. Finally, I fingered the problem: The glove only had *four* fingers.

If I had been a comic book fan, I would have known, of course. Red loses his fifth fingers in The Amazing Red Robin issue #348: Red Robin vs. The Sinister Dr. Applebee. I’m sure you’ve read that one.

Finally, I placed Red’s massive decapitated and hollowed-out head onto my own, and stumbled out of the closet. The supply closet, I mean. No more “tights” jokes.

For some reason, little kids seem to love the giant bird with blank glassy eyes and a coy smile that seems to be hiding a darker secret. They hug him and high five him and take pictures with him. Obviously, they weren’t brought up on Hitchcock movies like me.

I had all sorts of plans for my stint as Red Robin. To amuse the children, and would flap my arms as hard as I could and then BAM! run into the glass doors and fall down, twitching on the floor.

The nice thing about wearing the Red Robin suit is that your identity is concealed. I could do anything: Whether it be dancing the Chattanooga Choo Choo or going on a maniacal gun-blazing crime spree… and NOBODY would know it was me. When the witnesses were questioned by police later, they would have to say, well he was about 6’1, had four fingers, was… uh… furry and red… and had a beak attached to his massive head. Oh! And he was doing the hussle!”

Unfortunately, as soon as I came out of the supply closet, one of my coworkers lets out a stifled snicker and yells, “Hey! You’ve got to see this!”

As an experienced expert in the field of humiliating myself, I know, instinctually, that “Hey! You’ve to see this,” is *not* a good phrase to hear.

It turns out that, through the outline of my tights (remember those) one could see the outline of my shorts, my keys, my wallet, my inhaler, and my Duncan Donuts punch card. (It had five punches, witnesses recall.) Curse you, yellow tights! Curse you!

It also happens, that after reading the Red Robin Code, the costume has a maximum height of 5 foot 7. I’m a half a foot too large.

You know how, when you’re growing up, people tell you that you can be anything you want to be? It’s not true. Sometimes, you’re just too tall.

I haven’t given up all hope, however. I hear there’s a place called “Chuck E. Cheese” that’s hiring…

Squeak Squeak.

War of the Worlds: What *I* remember.

*Spoiler Warning! This review contains spoilers, and will spoil your viewing of War of the Worlds. Seriously, it will completely ruin it. Even if you’ve already seen the movie, it will spoil it retroactively. That’s how bad it is.*

War of the Worlds, like many great movies, began with twenty minutes of previews. This was followed by a commercial for Coca-Cola, a notice to keep your cell phones turned off and your seats in their upright and locked position, and finally a cameo by the And Now for Your Feature Presentation Man.

The actual movie started out with showing cells dividing in the midst of a deep, swirling, voiceover. If you listened closely, you could hear the whir of the filmstrip and Mr. Skillestad warning you to take good notes; there will be a quiz on mitosis and miosis on Friday.

The world, and the characters that populated it, were being watched, the voiceover ominously warned. This was a classic Speilburgian touch: a wink at the audience, who, for the last 30 seconds had indeed been watching the world and the characters that populated it.

Most summer blockbusters have a hair-raising action sequence within the first five minutes, and the War of the Worlds is no different. The audience watches breathlessly as Tom Cruise (Tom Cruise) deftly maneuvers a boxcar onto a train from his crane. This is an important scene, as it showcases Tom’s crane maneuvering ability, a trait which come in handy in the crane-maneuvering finale at the end.

Unfortunately, Tom Cruise has more problems than a low-paying job without dental benefits. He is divorced, is house is a mess, there’s nothing in the refrigerator, and his e-meter’s running on empty. To make matters worse his two kids are staying with him for the weekend. His daughter (Katie Holmes) is a typical girl in the sense that she always freaks out over little things like buildings collapsing, and people being vaporized, and hundreds of bodies drifting pass in the rivers, and when somebody jumps out behind her and yells, “Ooogidyboogidy boo!” And his son, Napoleon Dynamite (Hayden Christenson) is just as bad. Always listening to Emo music on his Ipod and complaining about his Dad.

Nothing short of an Alien Attack could heal the rift between them. Fortunately, an attack is just what the aliens have been planning!

Like most aliens, they decide to operate through the device of ominous foreshadowing. A freakin’ freak lightning storm freaks the freaks out. Tom Cruise sings to his daughter, reminding her to remember a few of her favorite things. The only things she can think of are Gogurt and Sparkle paint.

Finally, the storm quells, and Tom and his friends go to investigate a mysterious smoking crater. Fortunately, the action doesn’t take place in Spokane, where big smoking craters are a common occurrence on most Spokane roads.

Suddenly, a massive metal Martian machine blasts through the asphalt. “ET’s back!” It said, “And this time, I have free long distance service through Verizon!”

“Curse you, Verizon! I knew you would be the end of us!” the crowd says, before the Aliens begin ‘sploding everything, like good aliens should. Highlights include:

-We never really find out why the aliens are attacking Earth, but it becomes pretty obvious: They are angry at the unilateral way that the United States recklessly invaded the sovereign nation of Iraq. If we’d never made them angry with our cowboy actions, they would have stayed buried.

-Turns out that the Aliens had been buried beneath the ground for millions of years, and in the process of digging water mains, construction workers even found a few, but threw them away because OSHA regulations forbid examination of alien artifacts, under section C, part 56-7.

-The aliens also used their zapper ability to ruin all electronic devices, including TV’s, iPods, gameboys, joy buzzers, and cars. Fortunately, Tom Cruise, being the blue collar guy that he is, knows the problem. “Prob’ly a warped camshaft,” Cruise tells his mechanic, “You might need to unclog the discarbanotor or cleaning the corrugation gaskets.”

“Thanks, Tom!” the mechanic says,

“I’ll get vaporized later!” He adds in another subtle bit of foreshadowing.

-Tom steals a car, runs a red light, and makes SEVERAL lane violations. Unfortunately, they run into a group of Raiders fans…

The aliens just interrupted their football game… and they are P… Oed.

-Tom’s daughter tries to blow up the aliens brains through high-pitched screaming. The aliens are able to match it out with a low bassoon foghorn blast, which sounds like either robot flatulence, or the sounds of an angry walrus as recorded on a YakPak.

-I know! Let’s all pack ourselves into a boat like sardines! Where there’s no way out! And lets not wear life jackets, or even water wings! Nothing bad can possibly happen.

-The aliens, monsters that they are, blow up a Thrift Store, causing hundreds of T-shirts to rain down. The ones with pink-tags are half-price on Tuesdays.

-Naturally, the military is tasked with the charge of preventing panic in the streets. “Nothing to see here folks. Just line up, single file, to be vaporized in an orderly fashion. Aliens? What aliens? Oh, thosssse. Those are just uh… Weather Balloons, haven’t you heard?”

-The military does try to attack the Aliens, foolishly. C’mon military! Haven’t you seen, Mothra! You can’t fight these guys! You need to use radiation to make a BIGGER monster to have a mano-e-martian showdown. There’s a procedure, a process, for these things, you know.

-Eventually, Tom’s son decides that since his dad is like being a total jerk, and won’t let him do ANYTHING, he’s going to pack up his bags and just go hang out with the aliens. This worries Tom, as it should any parent. First, they start hanging out with Aliens, then they start experimenting with probing. Next thing you know, they’ve stolen a Tripod and are joyriding (or joywalking) it to Vegas, vaporizing random cars along the way. Then they start becoming interested in Scientology. That’s where it becomes really bad.

-They run across a crazy character with a shaky grip on reality and wacky political beliefs. He’s played by Tim Robbins,

-Robbins has a plan to deal with the aliens. He’ll leave a trail of Reeses Pieces on the floor to his basement. Then when the unsuspecting alien comes through the door… he’ll whack ‘em on the head with a shovel! Teehee!

-Remember that suspenseful scene in Jurassic Park, where the raptors follow the kids around the kitchen, and they sneak around and try to not be seen? Spielberg, wanting to be known for creating new cinemographic art as opposed to simply rehashing what’s already been done, has absolutely nothing like it in War of the Worlds.

-Remember that scene in Independence Day, where they can’t seem to destroy the aliens, but then that one guy figures out that you can blow them up from INSIDE the ship? Spielberg, wanting to be known for creating new cinemographic art as opposed to simply rehashing what’s already been done, has absolutely nothing like it in War of the Worlds.

-Remember that scene in Shawshank Redemption, where Tim Robbins decides he’s going to dig his way out to safety? Spielberg, wanting to be known for creating new cinemographic art as opposed to simply rehashing what’s already been done, has absolutely nothing like it in War of the Worlds.

-Remember that scene in Toy Story, where they are trapped in that machine with all those other guys, and the claw comes up to take Buzz away, but Woody tries to stop it by pulling him down and away from the claw? Spielberg, wanting to be known for creating new cinemographic art as opposed to simply rehashing what’s already been done, has absolutely nothing like it in War of the Worlds.

-Remember that scene in Star Wars, where after the final scene in the movie, the credits roll? SPIELBURG TOTALLY RIPS THAT OFF!