A friend recently wrote a post totally dissing Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. (The old movie, not the Johnny Depp version). This “friend,” alias Bloggy Mommy, also recently shoved me in front of a microphone and forced me to deliver a very impromptu speech to the local chapter of the Kiwanis Club, so I think I have every right to publicly counter her argument. That movie was a fundamental part of my childhood and I’ll stick up for it or my name isn’t Anna to the Max.
Allow me to point out the highlights. For some reason, as a wee bairn one of my favorite parts was when Charlie’s mom was at her laundry business stirring clothes around in a vat of boiling water. I don’t know why I liked that scene better than, oh, I don’t know, the bit about the room full of candy complete with life-sized gummy bears, whipped cream mushrooms, and a chocolate river. Perhaps it’s because that’s when she sings the “Cheer up, Charlie” song, my favorite musical number in the entire film. I often sing my own rendition, “Cheer up, Shelley,” whenever I’m hankering for a hard smack on the squamous suture from my little sis.
Oh, and raise your hand if you don’t enjoy watching Veruca Salt get exactly what she deserves. That’s what I thought.
And the lickable wallpaper? And the part where Augustus Gloop’s dad eats the microphone? And the everlasting gobstoppers? And the kooky chemistry teacher?
Classic, classic, classic.