Suspension Strength Speculation

In my previous post about Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium, I mentioned I wanted to bring up another topic related to it.

Let me start by saying that I do not have an answer or a decision on this issue. (Which is kind of funny, given what it’s about.) I’m just bringing it up for discussion, as it were. I’d love to be able to figure it out, but alas, I have not yet been able to do so. Any theories you’d like to present would be great.

I don’t mean to be picking on this movie. As I have said, I enjoyed it as a fun flick. It’s just that this issue came to me once again while watching it, so I’ll be using it as an example.

The problem, in a nutshell, is exposition. Or in another term: explanation.

It would rather appear that Mr. Magorium is a magical entity. He says to another character (Henry Weston [Jason Bateman]): I've been inventing toys since the 1770's. Weston then calculates: You know, that would make you at least 240 years old, sir. Besides his longevity, Magorium seems to have other magical powers at his disposal - or at least is surrounded by magic: objects (toys) and doors/rooms of the shop. It’s quite delightful - except for one bit. I’d like to know the wherefore of it all.

Now, it certainly could be (and probably is) just me. For I asked Bart (who also enjoyed it but didn’t deem it stellar either) and he said that he didn’t mind not knowing about Mr. Magorium. He took him at face value, as some sort of magical being, and that’s that. That’s fine, it can (and for some) does work as such. But not for me. At least…not here.

What’s interesting is that there have been similar cases in other stories where not having some sort of explanation of a character’s attributes or abilities didn’t bother me at all. A very good example is Willy Wonka. He’s got a “magical thing” going on - as well as the longevity factor. I never wanted to question it - he’s Willy Wonka, damnit. You’ll also find a post in which I say that in Burton’s version of it I am put off by the addition of an explanation of sorts (i.e. a backstory.) I even got into a discussion about it with someone in the commentary. I should state, however, that Burton’s “past” for Wonka doesn’t give an explanation of his magical qualities. So that bewonderment is intact.

So the question is: Why am I readily able to accept Willy Wonka’s oddity but not Mr. Magorium’s?

One explanation (HA!) might be that I first viewed Willy Wonka as kid. Had I been less discriminating as a child? A good theory, but I don’t think that’s it. For I’d been the type of kid who found the plot holes. I still am. [Incidentally, I wrote a novel based on a particular fairy tale, spawned out of the plot holes I wanted to fix as a kid.] And yet… sometimes, it just doesn’t concern me. Take for instance, the beloved character with whom I am all too familiar: Peter Pan. As a kid I’d been fascinated by and accepting of the nonsensical in it. I’m STILL willing to suspend my disbelief (rather interesting choice of words for that story) however - it should be obvious at this point that I’m also “concerned” about it. After all, I’m writing a novel that helps explain some of its mysteries. By the same token, I am not trying to eliminate the mysterious either. I’m working within the boundaries of what’s established by Barrie to do it. A betwixt-and-between of rational and irrational elements.

I also recently posted about Disney’s Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty. I talk about how she’s just a bad egg, inherently evil for the sake of it - and somehow… somehow this is okay in that particular story. Usually when a character is evil “just because” it does not make for a good tale. Villains are “people,” too… and in general we need to know what makes them tick. How is Maleficent so charming and perfect just the way she is without having to know why?

Back to Mr. Magorium. As I also mentioned in the first post, the movie is written and directed by Zach Helm. Now, in another of his works [also mentioned prior], Stranger Than Fiction, we are expected to swallow the idea that a character and author are linked in the real world. Inexplicably. And yet… I not only swallow it, I eat it up with a spoon. Okay, this one might be able to be chalked up to the fact that I often tell people I “talk” to characters. But even so, it’s a fancilfully written story, and it works, sans explanation. Case in point, I found a “hole” in that story that readily has a self-contained solution. I’d been bothered by that hole until I figured out how it’s not one at all… but still, there remains no reason given why the aforementioned “link” occurs. It just does. And I’m fine with it. Interesting, since both of these stories are written by the same man.

So I put forth: When and why does “it just is” work? What makes an explanation moot? Is it the quality of the rest of the tale? Is it a compelling enough characterization? What’s the tensile strength of disbelief when stretched?

Does anyone else fall victim to this sometime-curiosity?

Willy Wonky

I had been avoiding the latest film version of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. For a number of reasons: Frankly, I did not like what I saw in the previews. I'm on the fence regarding Tim Burton. The Gene Wilder Wonka lives in my heart.

Regarding the previews, I felt the visuals tried too hard to be outlandish. (Not that Wonka isn’t outlandish.) To me it seemed as if they felt they HAD to be different from the previous movie, to the point of nausea. There's a difference between exotic and outlandish. As for Burton, I greatly admire his work. But on more than one occasion, I needed more from elements of the story. Half-baked, I find myself saying. The attention to details seems to go to the wrong places – with delightful results, to be sure. Like many, Gene Wilder is Willy Wonka for me. It's kind of hard to live without “Pure Imagination.”

Thus, I chose not to watch it. I didn’t see the need to taint my memories of it with a crazy-cool-slick version. Rather recently, however, I learned that Burton had never seen the Mel Stuart masterpiece. Jeepers! Having been so influenced by the film myself, I found it hard to imagine. What would Dahl’s masterpiece look like to someone who had never seen Wilder's factory? Given this light, I changed my mind. Besides, I had heard that Burton stuck closer to the book and that meant the wonderful nut-shelling squirrel room would be in it. (And I do so love Johnny Depp in general.)

So, I watched.
At this point I will admit that I had made the sin of seeing the Stuart/Wilder movie before reading Roald Dahl’s novel. Dahl, however, also wrote the screenplay to the film. He wanted to fix a few aspects of it, to give it a little more plot and drama. The full character Slugworth, for instance, is not in the book. I prefer Dahl’s movie script. Although the golden egg geese are a marvelous substitution, I do so love the squirrels!

And Burton’s presentation of them – just as marvelous. On the whole, I found much to enjoy in this film. And bravo for sticking so close to the book. But true to form, I found a quite a bit that left me sour.

In general, I did like the production design. It might be more correct to say that, based on having just the text to go from, I did not hate it as I thought I might. As usual, I’d prefer a happy medium ground between it and the original film.


Opening with the (typically Burton) movement through the factory and showing the placement of the Golden Tickets – couldn’t love this enough. Although I liked seeing the rise of Wonka, so to speak, I prefer to not see Wonka himself in any capacity until they go to the factory. True, the prince’s chocolate palace and such are in the book as told by Grandpa Joe, but somehow Wonka is best shrouded in mystery. After all, Charlie cannot see Wonka but in his imagination. The “upgrade” for Mike Teavee to video games is understandable, arguably a necessary commentary, as it combines his guns and television obsessions. Let’s face it: Charlie finding the Golden Ticket and running home is ever so much more powerful and uplifting in the original. Otherwise, for the most part, the sequences up until the factory are quite amusing. Now the factory… well, that’s where it started to melt. (I had to.)

The song performed by the singing puppetronics is deliciously annoying and invasive in the good sense and in fact a charming way to present Wonka in a tricky fashion. However, like the Charlie running home scene, it’s tough to beat the impact of Wilder’s impromptu* falling down. Besides, the effect had also been negated by having already seen Wonka, as I stated earlier. The Oompa Loompas, I’m sorry, just did not work for me. The clone aspect – even though it must have taken a good deal of work, it seemed like a cop-out. No mention of them being identical is made in the book (and they are supposed to have long hair.) To be fair, Stuart’s are alike and do not have long hair, but something about the friendly-creepiness of Stuart’s cannot be beat. Burton’s Oompa Loompas are a bad Broadway show and blackout cannot come soon enough. Showing us the Loompaland scene from the book turned out to be a treat, but not a savory one. Every so often the factory teetered on the edge of that over-outlandishness I had feared. But teetered, it never fell over before the next delight came along.

The Great Glass Elevator – possibly the best part of the movie. YES.

Willy Wonka. Where do I begin? At the beginning, I suppose, which is precisely what I disliked the most. Giving a back story to Willy? I’m sorry, it’s not only presumptuous and unnecessary, but tedious. His precious patriarchally oppressive non-candy childhood. Really? I don’t know about you, but for me Willy Wonka just is in the world. He’s an enigma. He could be a god, for all we know. I’m not saying he is, just pointing out that he embodies a magical, otherworldly quality. Knowing where such a power originates is just no fun. Especially not something as dull as a plain donut. [They did this for the Grinch in the live action film as well. Contradicting other Seuss writings about the Grinch, I might add.] I veto the boo-hoo past. It also disrupts the flow of the film.

Johnny Depp is amazing and can do anything. And (as always) he’s quite good at convincing me he’s not just Depp in another role. Bravo. But I’m afraid I cannot fully applaud the portrayal of Willy Wonka. Yes, I prefer Wilder. But not entirely for that reason alone. Incorporating the back story that I so object to, we receive a Wonka who is self-tortured, a Wonka trying to fill a void, an insecure and socially awkward man. Being reclusive might account for the awkwardness, but this combination of traits doesn’t add up to the self-assured Wonka I’ve come to know through film and book. When Wilder (or book) Wonka shuts up a question with a quip, it flows as smooth as churning chocolate, with nonchalance. Grand confusing made simple. Depp’s Wonka is agitated and snaps back like a kid insulted on the playground. But the common denominator among Wonkas, it would seem, is exuberance. Curiously, both versions left out his goatee. (As did the cartoon Wonka for the candy franchise.)

I didn’t find it necessary to show us the altered children at the end. But I’d not remembered that this scene is also in the book. Perhaps Burton’s jarred me more because their transfigurations could actually be seen. Or more likely, it’s because in the book, Dahl has Wonka, Charlie and Grandpa Joe commenting on how the other children have been changed, whereas Burton does not. Dahl's has substance over shock.

I must again commend it on the overall accuracy to the novel. Bravo. (But that "bravo" does not include the haircut scene at the end, either.) The twist of Charlie’s acceptance worked well enough, even if it does mix in with Wonka's sluggish daddy issues. But again, I must compare it to the returning of the Gobstopper in the original film. Stuart wins…for after all, that twist from the book came from Dahl himself.



So that’s what I think. A valiant attempt, and quite successful at times. Overall, it lacked the richness and flavor of the original movie…and while it did have the texture of the Dahl book, it didn’t have quite the same “smell” as one. I think too many nuts went into this batch.

I’ll have you know that while writing this review, I had to go out and get a chocolate bar.

*Gene Wilder came up with the idea of Wonka falling down and somersaulting, so that from the first moment his trustworthiness is called into question. (And, oh, how well it works!)