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I loved Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory very much as a child, and that’s why I’ve conspicuously avoided the remake at every turn. Seriously, no one can top Gene Wilder’s performance; he’s got one of the most iconic screaming voices in cinematic history.

Anyway, as an aspiring writer-director, I’ve recently looked back and developed a new theory: the movie may have been ahead of its time.

It’s typical for film adaptations of video games to be criticized not only for straying from the source material but feeling too much like a video game to resemble a movie. However, I now see that many principles and dynamics of video games can be found in Willy Wonka. In the early part of the film, selection of contestants via golden tickets is somewhat similar to selecting which characters to play in any video game involving multiple protagonists. As the film progresses, things get more episodic and repetitive as the children’s ethics are tested (this reminds me of games with moral choices). Each stage of Wonka’s factory tour can be divided into three steps:

1) Wonka shows people the appropriate part of his factory’s chocolate-making process.
2) One of the naughty children gets into trouble through some humorous means.
3) A chorus of Oompa-Loompas sings about leading a good, moral life based on each respective child’s comic accident.

Actually, I’m surprised they never sing, “Thank you, Charlie, but your right to inherit the factory is after another test.”

And what would this all be without a sort of “final boss” played by none other than Wonka himself? Charlie proves himself worthy of Wonka’s factory in this final test by choosing not to fulfill Grandpa Joe’s revenge wish towards Wonka. (Wonka also “presents Charlie a new quest” by taking him on a flying elevator ride, but I guess that’s not an entirely relevant detail.)

So, what are your thoughts on the matter? Was Wonka really ahead of his time? Or did someone else beat him to the punch?

I look forward to hearing your thoughts.

Those all seem like old storytelling tropes to me, predating Wily Wonka or videogames by maybe a thousand years or two.

I don't know that I'd necessarily compare it specifically to a video game. A kind of formulaic, episodic storytelling is rather a trope of entertainment in general---especially questy stories, things where more of the 'screentime' (as it were) is taken up by spectacle, less by complex characterisation and drama. Like, you see it in 'Wizard of Oz', you see it in 'Alice in Wonderland'---protagonist encounters new strange what-have-you, says 'oh my goodness', befriends it and sings a song with it/gets annoyed with it and stamps off in vexation, fade to black, repeato. It's not a bad thing, or a sign of immature storytelling---heck, you see it in 'The Divine Comedy', too. (Heh. Now there's a thought. Willy Wonka as a latter-day Virgil, guiding Charlie through the Hell that is his chocolate factory, wherein each of the wicked children finds punishment for their sins in turn. Wouldn't be surprised if that's a real actual thing---it's only Roald Dahl, after all. But I digress.)

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Not to denigrate your theory, of course---this is a useful kind of thing for aspiring artists to think about (e.g. what is this story about, how does this character function, where is the plot going here). Thinking critically about others' works might just help improve your own.

^Yeah, I see where you're going here. The point is that, even if virtually all internationally-released video game movies have gotten pretty negative reception, the ways they tell their stories may in fact be a continuation of a tradition that dates back to the cinema of yesteryear or earlier...and it looks like you can think back earlier than I can.

The series of trials really is a millenia-old method of conveying progess towards a final accomplishment and resolution. It's just that, ever since Shakespeare and the invention of stage production and through that modern theater, it's become a more subtle series of stages which are typically written in a 3 or 4 Act format and deal with less physical or obvious challenges and accomplishments. That doesn't mean putting the structure front and center is out of fashion or that Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was rediscovering something lost to the ages, though. One only has to look to the structure of A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens for the most enduring and widely recognised example of the obvious character trial format.

The reason why game movies are criticised heavily is mostly because they use game concepts and language as a crutch when there is typically no verbal substance or mental conflict, which is the bread and butter of most film plots. The idea that you can't complete a film without complex dialogue is an insult to every Silent film, most action in the vein of Die Hard and the likes of Wall-E which aside from the ill-advised second half was a testament to the power of the moving image combined with sound.

If you want to know how to make a Nintendo movie, watch the cutscenes from SSB:Brawl.


What you're really observing, that you should take from this, is that it is possible to address the audience and show them the structural integrity of work by actually codifying it in the plot. People refer to these types of codifications as tropes, but by thinking in terms of tropes rather than coming to his own solution, a writer may find himself building with blocks of borrowed mediocrity. This sort of meta-level jiggery with the plot is usually reserved for writers tidying up messy work to setup new arcs, and solve unintended plot conflicts or fill holes. Employed intentionally and successfully as part of the core of a concept, it's just good writing.

For an example of the most extreme instance I can think of in that regard, consider the plot of The Gone Away World by Nick Harkaway;

The bomb that was supposed to be the cleanest weapon ever has an unexpected side effect in that the matter left over, referred to as "stuff," remains, floating around the world in great storms. Because it has no information, however, when ever it comes into contact with the noosphere it takes the form of whatever that person is thinking about. This causes horrific apparitions and creates people out of nothing who become known as "new." However, there is a way to stop this "Stuff": the material that comes out of the Jorgmund pipe, known as FOX, which allows for a small strip of the world to become livable.

Combined with some fantastic trickery on the part of the author, that allows him to work unimpeded and rationally include anything he well pleases. That is because he codified the alterations to the rules of reality. If it were introduced to an established and existing series, however, it would be considered poor writing.