The Fundamental Flaw With Willy Wonka And The Chocolate Factory

(Disclaimer - it was a long time ago that I read the book and a fair while since I’ve seen the movies, so I might get some minor details mixed up).

Well, I’ll start with the positives - the part of the story I’ve always enjoyed most, in every version, is the hunt for the golden ticket. I enjoy the different ways in which the kids happen upon them, and Charlie’s increasing unlikelihood of coming across one. And while super-fortunate coincidences are by no means a way to get your character out of trouble, they’re a great way to kick start the events. You could also argue that it’s due to his persistence, making it a merit to his character.

It’s everything about that moment I like, though - not just the hunt. I like his humble beginnings, getting to meet his family, the complete contrast between their poor living conditions and the wealthy lifestyle of the kids on TV winning these tickets. And Charlies genuine valuing of chocolate - because he gets it so rarely - is also a great aspect.

It goes downhill pretty fast from the factory, though. I like Willy Wonka’s eccentricities, and I like some of the weird stuff that goes on in there. But by this point you basically should already understand everything that the story will be trying to tell you - Charlie is a good boy, the rest of the kids are rotten (and, one could argue, those qualities extend to their parents, in a way).

And it rapidly becomes very very formulaic - the vast majority of the book is just dedicated to finding creative ways to deal with these really horrid children. It’s quite a bizarre way to plot your story, really, and it’s tends to hover between “boringly predictable” and “awkwardly disquieting”. The reader seems to be encouraged to really want to revel in just watching all these satisfying punishments take place, in-between filler scenes of the factory’s workings - which doesn’t really make for much of a story, really.

Then it ends with Charlie getting the factory, which is alright - although there’s, like, no other children left, so it’s a somewhat forgone conclusion. It’s mildly satisfying, but still it almost feels like a retread of the Golden Ticket moment.

It’s an especially strange way to write a children’s book. I’m not a huge fan of the really black-and-white morality, even when it comes to children - I’m not saying Charlie can’t be very nice and humble or the other kids can’t be really bratty and horrible, but when your story really just boils down to “He’s just a good kid, and the others are just bad,” it kind of seems like a very superficial assessment of things. It feels… odd, especially given that children are (probably?) the target audience. It’s not at all clear how you’re actually supposed to feel reading the book. I think you’re meant to just be laughing the whole time…?

But by far the biggest flaw is that the entire story could have been about Charlie getting the Golden Ticket and you’d lose none of the thematic material. The only reason to keep going from there is if you want to spend the majority of the story watching completely irredeemable children suffer and Charlie win the factory, but really it’s just spelling out the thematic ideas that readers (even kids, don’t underestimate children’s ability to interpret story) should already understand by that point.

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The most relatable character in the 2005 film is mike tv’s dad

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And this is where the original film succeeds over the story - Charlie isn’t literally perfect. He fails to stay flawless and comes close to failing twice, and in the moment it’s not perceived as a negative thing as neither Charlie or grandpa Joe seem to consider the fact that they’re breaking the contract.

Regardless, this is definitely inspiring me to not read the book.

At that point, you’ve won the argument. So uh… Congrats on the win, Sonus.

Don’t even underestimate children’s ability to intake information in general - the little leeches are like black holes. You may think they’re distracted by the television or something else, but they’re seeing. They’re listening.

They KNOW.

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This is why I always keep a mini Cronk in my pocket at all times. Helps me survive.

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Do I get a prize?

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I will show up at your house in fifteen days.

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Could I possibly agree with this any more? I’ve heard plenty of stories about kids who just happened to hear their parents cuss under their breath and then start dropping those cuss words left and right.

It’s kind of ironic that you should bring that up on this topic in particular, because when I read another Roald Dahl book, James And The Giant Peach, at the age of five, I discovered a certain three-letter a-word.* And you can guess what happened from there.

*Roald Dahl’s from the UK, and they have different bad words there, hence why this word made it into a children’s book. And judging by how often that word pops up in Roald Dahl’s other books, he must have liked that word.

Don’t worry. I haven’t taken offense from anything you, or Ghid, or Hawkflight, or anyone else has said in response to the opinions I’ve presented.

And as for your “that isn’t an argument” statement…I realize now that I didn’t word myself very well. I do agree that, in some cases, the changes filmmakers make when adapting a book or other source material can work. Like, for instance, the second Lord Of The Rings book ended with Frodo, Sam, and Gollum visiting Shelob’s lair and Frodo getting captured by the orcs. However, this was cut from the second movie and put in the third one. For any other book, this would be an odd choice, but the appendices for the third LOTR book said that the Minas Morgul and Shelob events took place right about the time that the Minas Tirith events in the ROTK book did. Plus, the books went the route of first telling Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli’s side of the story, and then telling Frodo and Sam’s. And since the movies were showing both sides of the story at once, it made sense to do so in accordance with the timeline that the books provided.

And in other cases, where the source material just has a big, glaring flaw, it does make sense to fix that flaw. Look at Black Manta from Aquaman. His traditional design had a huge helmet that actually looked kind of stupid. But the movie rectified that by giving a reason as to why the helmet was as big as it was: to be able to house the mechanisms for his laser eyes.

But there’s definitely something to the “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” adage. Which does kind of lead into what I’m going to say next…

This is a very interesting perspective. I can definitely see how you feel this way, but here’s my take on it.

Like you said, early on, we see that Charlie’s life sucks. His parents have low-paying jobs, and his grandparents all live with them, and the closest thing Charlie ever gets to a splurge is the Wonka chocolate bar on his birthday. The book shows us the hardships he endures in his daily life, and how starkly they contrast with the other kids. Veruca Salt is quickly established as a kid whose parents are so rich, they spoil their daughter a lot. And given Augustus Gloop’s big appetite, I imagine his parents had to have had a lot of money to afford food for him.

Charlie has compassion for his family, yes, but given how deprived he is, you’d expect him to display a greedier side when offered the chance of a lifetime that Willy Wonka is offering. Like, all his life, Charlie has been poor, so when given the chance to be the owner of a multimillion dollar company, many kids like him would be all “Shut up and give me that factory!” And, since all he ever eats is cabbage soup, you’d think that when he’s presented with a whole factory of delicious candy, he’d go eating everything in sight with no regards to what Mr. Wonka said was safe or unsafe to eat. But he didn’t do any of that.

At first, this isn’t that big of a deal. All five of the kids meet up at the chocolate factory and follow Mr. Wonka as he gives them the tour. All of them experience marvel and awe at Mr. Wonka’s wonderful inventions. So far so good. But then the other kids find something that they find tempting and get a little too greedy for their own good. Example: Violet, a girl who takes extreme pride in the fact that she chewed a piece of gum (that probably lost its flavor before the first day was even over) for three months solid, saw a piece of gum and decided to immediately eat it. And then she turned into a blueberry, and she had to be taken to the juicing room to be dejuiced.

All the kids disappear one by one as the story progresses. But by the end, when Charlie is the only one left, he realizes that no, he hasn’t broken any rules. And Mr. Wonka has seen Charlie’s innate goodness. As mentioned before, given Charlie’s upbringing, he should’ve been really greedy when given the opportunity of a lifetime like this. But nope-he was a humble, respectful, and just overall good kid. Unlike the other kids, he was the complete opposite of greedy. And that was what Willy Wonka saw in him, and what made him decide to pass ownership of his business down to him.

I discovered two cuss words by experimenting with the constructs of language and my parents being alarmed at the results.

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Yo they really showed a chicken getting it’s head chopped off.

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Ask?

No, wait. And, that was it. No, hang on, Add. All? How about Ant? Was it Aid?
Maybe… Arf?

this is a joke, if it wasn’t clear

Well the movie was hardly the first to do that or the first to give him laser eyes. But even then it’s still a matter of compensation for an original design when superhero universes 100% of the time cram gadgetry and gizmos into spaces way too small for something to actually exist in.

That’s a little too gracious. The other kids are villainized almost the moment they appear, personifying distortions of the deadly sins themselves. It wasn’t so uch a matter of small temptations bubbling and festering which Charlie was just good enough to avoid, it’s a match between absolute perfection and utter rot.

And honestly, that’s boring as heck. The outcome was never really in doubt.

If he doesn’t have moments where the temptation is internally conflicting; where Charlie has to battle the wicked desire to defy the rules just a little, but instead flies by every temptation and thought with flying colors, then that is bad storytelling. My condolences to Roald Dahl, but that’s the definition of it. It’s like writing about the process of walking up stairs - reaching the top and the process by which it occurs is blatantly obvious - except I feel even that could manage to be more interesting.

“In spite of all my obvious disadvantages in life and sympathetic plight, I manage to be perfect throughout it all.”

image

Aboom boom boom.

I’ll make this argument once more since it’s why I’m still paying attention to this topic.

When your source material has a massive, stupid, gaping flaw which spoils the presentation of it were it to be translated to film, would you attempt to fix it? Or would “stay true to the book” overrule attempting to write a good movie?

If you’re a Hollywood director/producer who knows showing a film about a flawless child doing everything flawlessly and never flinching from the straight and true path only to be rewarded in exactly the manner he was expecting to be will be a dismal failure due to audiences being completely uninterested in a tasteless retelling of the same flawed story, you’d choose the financially advantageous option: add an additional scene which humanizes the flawless protagonist and works to set up the final challenge.

I’m not trying to get you to change your opinion of the original book in relation to the film - you’re welcome to have your own taste. But I’d like to think we both agree that Charlie in the book is absolutely a Mary Sue, and the only way a film consistently keeping him flawless and unrelatable would make any amount of money is if it were by some chance an unnerving thematically dark trampling of the original story directed by Tim Burton.

It’s no wonder the original is praised so high above that one.

Overall, you’ve made a very strong case that you’re overreacting about a genuinely helpful change which changes the story for the better and helps change a mediocre children’s book about literal perfection versus literal evil into an almost timeless film where they behead a chicken on live television and adds to the countless libraries of beloved classics known as hallmarks of great moving pictures. Though I have been a ready participant in this discussion I’ve been enough of an outside observer to see one side of the argument completely topple the other.

Oh, and one final thing: Charlie never fell to any of the vices the other kids did. Greed, gluttony, and selfish ambition never claimed any part of him - it was curiosity which killed the cat.

Gee, golly, gosh, gloriosky.

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Don’t worry, in nine cases out of ten, I can tell when someone on these boards is joking. And I don’t mind, because even in discussions like these, a little humor is appreciated.

Augustus Gloop-gluttony
Violet Beauregard-pride
Veruca Salt-greed
Mike Teevee…given his couch potato personality, I’d say sloth, but that’s somewhat skewed.

I don’t think it’s so much that he knew that about himself the whole time. To me, it didn’t come across as “Oh, I know how perfect of a person I am, so I’m just gonna go in and be the best kid out of the bunch!” It was more that Charlie just followed the tour and reacted as was in his nature. But at the end, when Mr. Wonka is congratulating Charlie, he realizes just how good of a person he really is. But I’ll admit, the book probably could’ve exemplified this more.

And while we’re on the subject of Roald Dahl’s storytelling mistakes, I feel I should bring up another one of his works: Matilda. It’s a great book overall, but one flaw I have with it is the way the plot diverges. It starts out with Matilda living with her abusive parents and finding ways to get back at them, but then it ditches that storyline in favor of Matilda’s school life and finding a way to deal with Miss Trunchbull. Again, the first few chapters of the book do a phenomenal job of setting up our main character and the problems they face in life. But Matilda’s parents are really descriptive, and then they take a backseat for the majority of the book.

[strokes chin]

I think this topic has shown that there’s a lot of gray area in “filling in plot holes” and “robbing the source material of what made it good in the first place,” at least for me.

I think you’re right, in that we agree that book Charlie is a Mary Sue. He doesn’t demonstrate much skill with sports or technology or anything like that, but in terms of his moral alignment, then yes, he does qualify.

Part of the book’s appeal was its originality and inventiveness. The premise of the book revolves around a factory that makes fantastic and marvelous inventions with a crazy man running it. And the book does quite a lot with that idea. It shows a whole room where everything is made of candy, Everlasting Gobstoppers that can last forever no matter how much you suck on them, a “Wonkavision” thing that can effectively teleport candy, ice cream that doesn’t melt, a palace made entirely out of chocolate…the list keeps on going. And the movies even add some ideas of their own. Like I mentioned above, the original added its own idea of geese that lay “good” or “bad” eggs, and the new one has a big fudge mountain.

The “World Of Your Imagination” song from the original movie conveys this really well. It really gives a feel for how imaginative this factory is, and how there’s so much, Willy Wonka likely can’t show the kids everything in one day. That’s one of the things that a lot of “great” books (or movies) have-an immersive and creative world for the reader to get sucked into.

This subtly infers that the source material isn’t, inherently, unnerving and thematically dark. But a significant number of Roald Dahl’s works absolutely are. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is on the lesser end of that scale but still ranks. From all I can recall (not much, it was ages ago) Tim Burton’s was, by many accounts, the more accurate to the book of the two - both content-wise and tonally.

I will say this only strengthens your argument here, though.

A Mary Sue need not know they are one - regularly they don’t. That said, they can become genuinely interesting characters if they, for whatever reason, actively believe they aren’t one and are a flawed person - though in every case I can imagine, making them actually flawed in some way still makes this more compelling.

Hm. I have much more recent experience with this one, so it’s fresher in my mind.
Hm.
I’ll leave it there.

Actually, no. The one thing I’ll say about this book is that Roald Dahl openly, albeit respectfully, criticizes other authors by name (Tolkien and C.S. Lewis) through the character of Matilda, remarking that their works do not have enough “funny bits” for children and that all children’s stories need to inherently be funny.

I don’t want to derail this topic to another book, so I’ll leave it there and probably won’t persist with discussion of it. But that bit in particular really, really turned me off for numerous reasons.

I could have not replied to this, but I’m going to quote it because I want to mention that I completely agree with it despite arguing with some of your other points. I’ll also take the opportunity to restate what Ghid said about everyone being free to their own interpretations, and you’re welcome to enjoy whatever stories (or versions of stories) tickle your fancy.

But that doesn’t nullify the potential for deconstructive analysis and debate, either. Agreeing to disagree doesn’t mean you ignore the disagreement.

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The issue here is they almost never are. Mary Sue is never wrong, never in a morally grey area, always pitiable, always lovable/attractive/intelligent/etc., any other character is either in support of Mary Sue or is wrong to an almost criminal degree.

If by some insane stroke of luck Mary Sue just happens to be hurt, damage is dealt back upon the source responsible tenfold. No one can be against Mary Sue and be anything other than utterly deplorable.

Now if the concept of flawlessness exists only in Mary Sue’s naive (did I mention Mary Sue is hopelessly naive?) consciousness, then and only then in the character interesting because then and only they does Mary Sue have flaws - but book Charlie is not that.

Conan Doyle did the same thing, but he had two characters play both sides of the isle. Watson was fond of Poe and other writers, and Holmes sneered at being compared to any of their characters. Mid-novel critique of other (undoubtedly more well-known at the time of writing) authors is not impossible, but I agree, Matilda did a bad job of it.

also, all children’s stories need to be funny? hmmmmmm

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Hmm… I haven’t watch the 70s version but I remember being abit annoyed at the 2 diensionall characters of the 2005 remake.

Short king

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Two words: The Witches.

I absolutely second this. Granted, there are things that I think the 1971 movie does better (particularly the music), but on the whole, I’d say the 2005 movie is more accurate to the book.

I’m not sure if I agree with this. The very notion of having a little kid reading books that are aimed at people five times her age…if anything, I’d say Roald Dahl is glorifying those other authors’ works, especially since some of them are listed in one of the first chapters of the book. But what I do agree with is this:

Plenty of kids’ books are without their “funny bits.” Books like Charlotte’s Web and Harry Potter are often labeled as children’s books, but you wouldn’t call those comedies, would you?

When I was in middle school, I got into the Origami Yoda book series, which centered around a cast of middle-school-aged characters who were obsessed with Star Wars. At one point, an adult character gets wind of their obsession and says they never watched Star Trek. To which one character does NOT react well.

A dig at a rival franchise if I ever saw one.

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I mean J K Rowling is a bit of a clown

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This book scared the heck out of me on audio. To be honest, all I recall was the absolute terror when the whole “dejuicing” scene came up, as well as the part where one kid supposedly falls to their death in an incinerator and M. T. V. gets sucked into a vacuum transport system… all of these are scenes that remind me exactly how terrifying all of Dahl’s books are. Most of them feature moral lessons being taught via extreme punishment or abuse, as well as the attempt at terrorism in The Witches. Along with that, he has a tendency towards crude humor that is rather off-putting, especially in books like The BFG.

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