My friend Erin and I can talk about anything and nothing for hours. This weekend over drinks she told me she saw “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory” at a makeshift drive-in movie theater.
And we got to talking about how much I hate that movie and although I liked “Charlie and The Chocolate Factory” a lot better it still wasn’t the same as the book.
The book? Who knew there was a book? Well, read on…..
As I thought about writing this post, I realized that at a young age I loved chocolate. One day I sat in front of the bookcase in my second grade classroom at New Providence Elementary School, my second grade teacher Mrs. Gehr asked me what was wrong.
“I can’t find a book to read.”
And what she handed me was magic.
“Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” by European author Roald Dahl. Charlie was my Harry Potter. I was whisked into a magical world where chocolate was happy and good poor boys were rewarded richly with sweets.
And then I saw the damn movie with Gene Wilder and his creepy boat that went through a tunnel flashing photos of centipedes and gross, weird, nasty stuff that shouldn’t be anywhere near a magical chocolate factory. And geese that laid golden eggs? What the heck happened to the squirrels? I was appalled.
And then I had the privilege to see “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” in 3-D at the Whitaker Center in Harrisburg and I was so much happier. They stuck more closely to the feeling in the book of happiness and joy, not scary and dark.
Have you ever read a book and then seen a movie and felt utterly and completely destroyed? Or have you seen a movie that did a pretty good job?