My family used to visit the movie theater on special occasions before prices rose and 3-D came along—with Tim Burton’s adaptation of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory being the second-to-last we saw all together. Our curiosity had been piqued over this movie in particular since the Gene Wilder version of Braum’s novel was such a classic we watched it each year around Easter. By the time we were able to get into a showing of the film, though, the crowd in the theater for it had thinned out considerably.
This was fine. Crowds have always made us nervous, and we could choose where to sit in the showing room.
I have to say that the Tim Burton version was much darker than I had expected (nothing could beat the first), but it had a cynical edge we had come to appreciate in our media. It was as if the new socially awkward Willy Wonka and duplicated assistants were laughing at pop culture.
But interestingly enough, the best part of this whole experience was something no one could record.
A scene came where the hopeful Charlie, a picture of sainthood, rips the wrapper off a Wonka bar hoping to find a “lucky golden ticket” beneath. We watched in silence as the tension built up and Charlie gripped the wrapper edge.
He tore the wrapper aside.
There was nothing there.
“Loser!” Someone shouted from the front row. Laughter erupted around the showing room, and my family joined in—because that cry felt so appropriate and shattered the tension.
It is strange how just one word can hold that much power.
The film has long since come out on DVD (and re-released on Blue-Ray), but I’ll always hear that unknown guy shouting “Loser” each time I watch the Tim Burton’s version. It added, more than took away, from my enjoyment of the movie.
And now I have shared that moment with you too.
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