Log onto Netflix — you’ve got a golden ticket.
“Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” reappeared in the streaming service’s cache of children’s movies earlier this month, giving a broader audience a chance to revisit the classic tale. Johnny Depp gives his signature, weird rendition of Willy Wonka in the 2005 film, and Roald Dahl’s most famous story still enchants readers with its Oompa-Loompas, everlasting gobstoppers, and snozzberries.
A kid’s inspiration and a parent’s child-rearing manual, the story also satisfies a college student hungry for a taste of nostalgia. As a little book or a fun flick, Dahl’s classic tale weaves the reader through a whimsical, humorous narrative that gently chides readers of any age to evaluate themselves.
As Willy Wonka leads Charlie Bucket and his companions through his sugary labyrinth, Dahl presents a few monsters: the greedy Veruca Salt, the indulgent Augustus Gloop, the nasty Violet Beauregarde, and, of course, the obsessive Mike Teavee. Each of the children found a golden ticket inside a Whipple-Scrumptious Fudgemallow Delight chocolate bar, and with it, they received an exclusive tour of the “scrumdiddlyumptious” factory (which had been closed to the public for many years). As Mr. Wonka parades them through his castle, the children fall to each of their flaws until only sweet, unassuming Charlie remains.
Humor softens these life lessons and morals, saving the story from a fate of finger-waving.
From its premise to its finer details, it’s a silly story. Who can resist a laugh when creaky, old Grandpa Joe (one of four elderly relatives crammed into the Bucket family shack) springs from his bed to claim his spot as Charlie’s chaperone to the factory?
“His long bony body rose up out of the bed,” the story goes, “and his bowl of soup went flying into the face of Grandma Josephine, and in one fantastic leap, this old fellow of ninety-six and a half, who hadn’t been out of bed these last twenty years, jumped on to the floor and started doing a dance of victory in his pyjamas.”
And what kind of maniac doesn’t chuckle when Willy Wonka throws open the gates of his factory?
“Suddenly,” Dahl writes, “he did a funny little skipping dance in the snow, and he spread his arms wide, and he smiled at the five children who were clustered near the gates, and he called out, ‘Welcome, my little friends! Welcome to the factory!’”
Through its hilarity and bizarreness, this story will prompt all to evaluate ambition, laziness, and pursuit of self-gratification as she pursues her goals.
The children serve as the best example of this, especially as they enter a factory of temptations designed to entice and beguile them. Veruca Salt gives a nice performance as she reaches total meltdown over her need for a pet squirrel: “All I’ve got at home is two dogs and four cats and six bunny rabbits and two parakeets and three canaries and a green parrot and a turtle and a bowl of goldfish and a cage of white mice and a silly old hamster! I want a squirrel!’”
Veruca races forward and clutches a small squirrel in her hands, and then the rest attack, throwing her down a garbage chute! After this ridiculous scene, readers can’t help but wonder what inspired their own most recent fit of selfish rage. A seemingly unfair paper grade? An inconvenient lack of parking?
The factory visitors and their parents seem to never realize their problems. Instead, with each child’s downfall, Wonka’s staff of Oompa-Loompas deliver a rhyming scrutiny of their behavior.
Listen to the Oompa-Loompas’ blunt analysis of television-obsessed Mike Teevea: “‘The most important thing we’ve learned,/ So far as children are concerned,/ Is never, NEVER, NEVER let/ Them near your television set —/ Or better still, just don’t install/ The idiotic thing at all.’”
This begs the question — do college students squander their time, talent, and creativity staring at lame sitcoms that only make them chuckle? Surely more invigorating procrastination methods exist.
Charlie Bucket escapes the Oompa-Loompas’ blistering reprimands and inherits the entire factory at the end of the story. His humility and wonder keep him far from the temptations that landed his companions in chocolate lakes and human-sized juicers.
This is seen even at little Charlie’s most stinging moment of disappointment, when he unwraps a candy bar on his birthday and no golden ticket crinkles beneath his fingers: “He smiled at them, a small sad smile, and then he shrugged his shoulders and picked up the chocolate bar and held it out to his mother, and said, ‘Here, Mother, have a bit. We’ll share it. I want everybody to taste it.’”
In the end, Charlie gets to share an entire chocolate factory with his family, a clear reward for his behavior. More than escaping punishment, though, his temperament allows him to enjoy a gift with loved ones.
We can all learn from that.