'Wonka' review: Sweet treat that needs to be nuttier

Movies are like a box of chocolates: Some are dark and rich, some are sweet and creamy.

“Wonka” falls into the latter category. A spinoff from Roald Dahl’s 1964 book “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory,” it’s the origin story of Willie Wonka, the brilliant if demented candy maker. Timothée Chalamet dons the character’s trademark top hat and frock coat, but with barely any nod to Gene Wilder’s sinister portrayal in the classic 1971 adaptation or Johnny Depp’s campy interpretation in the 2005 redo. Written by director Paul King and Simon Farnaby (both of the marvelous “Paddington” movies), “Wonka” sifts the dark notes out of Dahl’s source material, leaving behind only the sugary stuff.

“Wonka” begins with our young hero landing in London with memories of his chocolate-making mother (Sally Hawkins) and a dream of opening his own shop. He’s quickly hornswoggled by a pair of Dickensian innkeepers, Scrubbit and Bleacher (a cackling Olivia Colman and a growling Tom Davis, respectively), who enslave him in their laundry room. There, he meets Noodle (an anodyne Calah Lane), an orphan who becomes both his sidekick and literacy coach (oddly, Wonka cannot read).

It's a roundabout way of arriving at the real story: Threatened by Wonka’s inventive creations (such as Hoverchocs, antecedents to the famous Fizzy Lifting Drinks of the original film), three nefarious chocolatiers conspire to put him out of business. (Paterson Joseph plays one with the familiar name of Slugworth). The local Chief of Police (Keegan-Michael Key, employing an incongruous Brooklyn accent) agrees to rough Wonka up in exchange for an endless supply of chocolate.

The use of candy as both currency and narcotic is the film’s one Dahl-worthy idea. (And its one stroke of genius is shrinking down Hugh Grant to play an imperious Oompa-Loompa; the film could have used more of Grant’s deadpan drollery.) Overall, though, Warner Bros.’ “Wonka” looks and feels an awful lot like its golden-hued “Fantastic Beasts” franchise. (Similar to Newt Scamander from those films, Wonka has a magic hat full of impossible objects like a tea kettle, an alarm clock and so on.) The musical numbers, by pop songwriter Neil Hannon (a UK cult favorite), have their bright moments, particularly the hopeful opener, “A Hatful of Dreams.”

At its best, “Wonka” can be melt-in-your-mouth fun, but what it lacks is weirdness — the very thing that made Dahl’s stories, and the earlier “Wonka” movies, so memorable. Chalamet, doe-eyed and dreamy, doesn’t strike a single sour note. Perhaps the sequel, if there is one, will explain how this fresh-faced Wonka turned into the slightly twisted one — the guy who once clamped his fingers around a little girl’s face and softly warned: “We are the music-makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams.”

By Rafer Guzmán

rafer.guzman@newsday.com@raferguzman