Making Space for Wonka’s World

in search of the honest child

Chocolate waterfalls.  A magical, colorful world where everything is edible. Wallpaper that could be licked to get different tastes.  Gum that tastes like a whole meal.  A wild boat ride on a chocolate river that turns frightening, your host seemingly gone mad, and everyone wanting off.  Golden tickets.  Oompa-Loompas.  Floating in zero gravity.  Wee!

If you haven’t guessed it yet, we decided to kick off Thanksgiving Weekend not with our traditional Charlie Brown’s Thanksgiving but instead something brand new for us: Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.  The original 1971 classic with Gene Wilder—the one that I grew up with.  It was loaded with children out of control, making poor decisions, and being truly obnoxious.  The lessons the movie taught about selfishness and gluttony were juxtaposed with making right choices, where the virtue of honesty was rewarded to the highest level imaginable.

Perfect for the season we are entering.  No to gluttony and selfishness.  Yes to honesty and good choices.  Last week walking into church, I was talking to my kids about making a choice Jesus would like.  It was barely heard.  Because my son shifted the conversation to, “Plus, Santa is watching.”  I repeated my point about Jesus, he repeated his about Santa.  Stalemate.  I’ll go with it for the next month—an extra parenting defense given to us.  Elf on the Shelf is coming out.  Santa is making a list, checking it twice. 

Oversized candy choices, everywhere we look

Most of the memory of the movie was blurry for me.  I had only a vague sense of knowing what would happen next. But I watched it with a smile on my face almost the whole time.  My family surrounded me in our sunroom on the eve of Thanksgiving, with plates of spaghetti on our laps or TV trays, each of us ranging in ages from 5 (almost 6!) and up, but all glued to the weird, magical Wonka world unfolding.

To see Augustus Gloop fall into the chocolate river because he wouldn’t stop slurping out of it when told not to, get pulled under and then sucked up a pipe, get stuck there with a look of panic on his face, and then… disappear. Not to be seen again.   Or to watch with fascinated horror as Violet Beauregarde grabbed and chewed a piece of gum Wonka told her not to and ended up first turning blue in the face and then swelling up into a huge blueberry, needing to be rolled out of the room by the Oompa-Loompas.  Never to be seen again.

We are left to believe that the panicked parent being led away to find their wayward child might be reunited and the child might be okay again, but their fates are not revealed. It leaves us wondering.

Who dreamed this stuff up?  Roald Dahl, that’s who.  In his 1964 book, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.  Already checked out of the public library and packed in our son’s backpack for Monday.  Because his fourth-grade teacher has asked up repeatedly to send more books to school with him—he tears through them so fast and she believes he needs to be coaxed to leave the world of Captain Underpants and Dogman behind.

Willy Wonka himself was eccentric.  Unpredictable. Unflappable.  Evasive. In control.  Funny.  Twisted.  Master of illusion. Not quite willing to put his guests at ease. Frightening on that boat ride. Almost a bit sad at the beginning when he’s singing “Pure Imagination” with the kids and parents running around an unbelievable world nibbling on this and that.  Perturbed and angry when he goes into his office to be alone.  Joyful at the end.  We see the many facets of Wonka throughout the film—like a gemstone being turned this way and that.

The film opened a door for us to talk about things as a family.  Rudeness.  Being nice.  Following rules. Listening to grown-ups.  And the really big one: honesty and Charlie’s test.  Charlie Bucket was extremely kind.  Sincere and lovable. He lived in poverty, with his parents and four grandparents. He was given a handmade red scarf on his birthday and a Wonka chocolate bar.  That was it.  Did my kids notice his meager birthday celebration compared to the abundance of theirs?  He wanted nothing more than to see a golden ticket and win admission to the chocolate factory. The anticipation when opening the bar!  The disappointment in not finding a golden ticket there. But a weird twist of fate sent a winning chocolate bar into his hands later, after he thought all was lost.  He took his grandpa with him for the tour.  They were both delightful characters, a breath of fresh air among the rest of the group.

The whole time he was there, Charlie was being tested.  He was being watched to see if he would follow the rules or break them.  My heart sank when he and his grandpa drank fizzy soda and floated into the air—as fun as that scene was (before it got scary)—I just didn’t expect him to break any rules.

The big test, though, came about with the everlasting gobstopper.  He was tempted to steal one and give it to a mysterious man who promised to save his family from poverty. He had it in his pocket and was about to leave the factory.  But he turned around and gave it back to Wonka.  Wonka murmured with incredulity, “So shines a good deed in a weary world” as an ode to Shakespeare—a line that touched my heart but went over my kids’ heads—and then burst into joy.  Hugging, dancing, and exclaiming that the everlasting gobstopper had been a test.  And Charlie’s honesty in returning it was exactly what he was looking for when he invented the contest and opened his factory to five children. 

As they rode a glass elevator out of the factory and over their city, Wonka announced he would be giving his whole chocolate factory to Charlie to run. Not just a lifetime supply of chocolate, as the contest stated, but he would have a business, financial security, a place to live for him and his whole family.  Because honesty mattered.  And matters still.