When I Was A Child, I Thought As A Child. But Now... by Andrew Curnow

...Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

My main, indeed my only, memory of the 1978 World Cup is that they showed "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" during the tournament on BBC1. On the day of the final I believe, though don't quote me on that. I of course have the standard recollections of it for an eight year old - it seems to take forever before we get to the actual Chocolate Factory, and the Oompah Loompah song is catchy. Oh, and I also remember reading the book some time later (a Christmas present from a now-late Aunt, who also bought me "The Wind in the Willows" one birthday - such good choices.)

Watching the film again as an adult produces an intriguingly different set of opinions. It does take ages before we get to the Chocolate Factory, but I now enjoy those opening sections a great deal more than before; and the Oompah Loompah song is officially catchy. But there are now many other thoughts and observations which strike me. First, the setting. I don't know where the actual location filming was done, but it comes across as a bizarre mix of Northern England, and Eastern Europe. The architecture and the accents waver continually between those two points - Charlie himself is clearly English, down to the quintessentially English paper-round; but his grandmother Josephine seems to be of foreign extraction, as is his employer.

Then there's the 'Wonkatania' scene - I don't remember it at all from 1978, but seeing it now it sticks out like a sore thumb. It clearly jars with the rest of the film, what with its background footage of slugs and snails and a chicken having its head chopped off! Grisly, yes; relevant? Well I can't see it myself, although I'm prepared to listen to a defence of it. What I find interesting is that I'm amazed Mary Whitehouse didn't give Philip Hinchcliffe a week off way back when by complaining about this film instead. I wouldn't like to recommend leaving children alone to watch anything to be honest, as determining what does and doesn't scare them is almost a science in itself. But the presence of that really quite disturbing sequence (disturbing to me as an adult anyway) in the river tunnel actively prohibits it - maybe that is the point?

Then there are the details of plot which a child dismisses, but which an adult watching the film starts to pick up on after his or her tenth viewing. The sweet shop in the opening scene (in yet another example of the schizophrenic locating of the piece) is clearly modelled on the traditional, old-time US candy store - and the store owner is none other than Aubrey Woods, who is of course the Controller of 22nd Century Earth (well, 22nd Century Home Counties anyway) in "The Day of the Daleks"! But most remarkably, all those sweets (sorry, all that candy) that he gives out in the opening scene appears to be free - he's dishing this out without a penny (or cent or rupee or whatever) changing hands. Such philanthropy! It's therefore particularly miserly of him when he actually makes Charlie pay for both his Wonka Bars later in the film. Maybe it's something personal (maybe Charlie always delivers his papers later).

Then there's the convenient fact that Charlie, having found the final Golden Ticket just the day before, actually lives just up the strasse from the Chocolate Factory. Whereas Augustus and the others (who interestingly are all given a specific home location, unlike Charlie) presumably have to make their way to the Factory by plane, train or automobile; fortunately Charlie and Grandpa Joe can just walk there.

Ah yes, Grandpa Joe... As a child watching this, he seems the perfect Grandparent - a mix of a best friend, a big brother, and a clown. But as an adult it is clear that he is a self-centred parasite. Harsh judgement? Consider the facts. By his own admission, Grandpa Joe hasn't got out of bed in the last twenty years, yet when Charlie comes home with his Golden Ticket, one whiff of free chocolate and a magical mystery tour is enough not just to get him up, but to have him up and dancing. That's quite apart from the fact that he has apparently been sucking the meagre family resources dry all these years by insisting on his tobacco.

There are of course various other thoughts that run through the increasingly-despairing parent's mind, as the opening credits run for the fifteenth time - "The Candy Man" opening number not only brings back happy memories of "The Happiness Patrol", but also fondly recalls Homer Simpson as "The Garbage Man". The fact that another episode of "The Simpsons" (sugar is banned in Springfield, with hilarious consequences) can make a casual reference to the Oompah Loompahs with the certainty that the audience will 'get it' is a strong testament to the status of this film.

And it does have considerable status, and deservedly so. All these faults and oddities aren't being picked out as a means to run the film down, merely ironic observations - hey, if we can do it with "The Time Monster" and yet still love it, why not with "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory". I've probably seen this film all the way through more times than any Doctor Who story (pause for a Tom Baker style 'Gosh!' at this I think) but I can actually still enjoy it. As I said above, I greatly enjoy the opening section of the film, which is so different in style to the latter half inside the factory. The structure of it is deliberately designed so as to constantly give us something new to look at, and thus avoid our getting bored with the necessary machinery of the plot. The main stages in the story are interspersed with lots of cutaway moments. Tim Broke-Taylor is in there doing his computer boffin bit, and there are very funny hostage and psychiatrist sketches. Plus of course the songs are very strong, and are all in fact quite catchy (not just the Oompah Loompah one). Then there's Gene Wilder as Willy Wonka, a perfect piece of casting if ever there was one - he first appears limping out of the factory towards the crowd... then suddenly turns a tumble into a polished roll! In one instant, the unpredictable, part-sadist, part-showman personality is given to us. Very effective, very economical. It's a film most children (and many parents) have seen, and because it is from the pen of Roald Dahl it has his trademark mix of strong morality with cheek and naughtiness.

But I have a last nagging though, which I feel needs airing... Is it just me or do the Oompah Loompahs bear a striking resemblance to our own beloved Argolin from "The Leisure Hive"? You see, that 1980 story is not one of my favourites, but I can't help feeling that a quick song or two might improve it no end...