Willy Wonka is Coming for You

There has existed for me a not insignificant portion of my life that was dedicated to the ambition of being a stage actor.

I had hoped that the strenuous striving within that arena would later lead me to a brilliant film career. Furthermore, the former ambition would have been seen by all critics within the latter field as evidence of weightier and more classical talent- I would never get pigeon-holed as the “funny guy,” the “serious guy” or the “good guy.”

So watching last week’s production of ’s second-night performance of “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory” afforded me just the excuse to ask the self-indulgent question of “what if?” I was on hand to watch my son star as “Kid #12” within the chorus of their last performance, and as I began creating an alternative or divergent universe where I had actually pursued acting I was abruptly interrupted by the musical itself.

This was, like all elementary school productions, wholly and absolutely adorable. I cannot even imagine the time, energy and potentially suicidal moments the music and drama teacher must have endured corralling fourth and fifth graders into something resembling a theatrical ensemble. The girl that played Veruca Salt was off-the-charts good for her age. All of that notwithstanding, the real genius of the production was the choice of the show itself.

I never read the book or saw this show live. I’ve only seen the Gene Wilder version and shied away from Johnny Depp’s. As a kid, the movie creeped me out. Beginning with the sleeping arrangements in Charlie’s house (all four grandparents share a bed), moving forward to little people with orange skin singing, and then to normal big people singing… well, it all produced a feeling. It was something akin to the feeling I got reading Freud’s treatment of the word “uncanny.” Also, his case study of the young woman Dora. As a matter of fact, anything Freud-related. In this case, the musical was supposed to be about candy, but as a kid I knew somehow it wasn’t about candy but about something much more adult.

As a teen I was convinced the musical was about drugs. Take this piece of candy and you’ll start to float (get high), come on this magic candy boat and experience a hallucinogenic trip, and if you eat the wrong candy something bad happens and everyone starts seeing little orange men singing to you. How could this not have been a metaphor for drugs?

So last week was the first time I’ve watched Willy Wonka as an adult. And let me tell you this, Western Avenue Elementary School knew exactly what they were doing. I sat there and began smiling and laughing at the coup they were pulling. And if it was strictly serendipitous then the Lord was moving in mysterious ways!

Our great school managed to fully pack two auditoriums filled with grandparents and parents and all manner of guardians and convince them to sit down and clap as Willy Wonka held court on every morally bankrupt parent trap into which we’ve all fallen. Actually, we didn’t merely volunteer to attend, we all paid ($4 per adult ticket) to have our parental follies exposed, ridiculed and denounced in both song and dance.

We smiled through it all and gave them a standing ovation as well. Willy Wonka isn’t a simple candy man, he is a watch dog for every bad parenting decision we make; from over-indulging our children to bribing them into behaving well. He called to the table our tendency to avoid conflict with raucous and unruly children while blithely stating that “No, it isn’t the river of chocolate that will ruin your children; they were ruined by your parenting long ago.”

Brilliant.

I don’t know if there was a strategy in this from Western Avenue, but it would be great if there had been. I would have loved it if there had been brief intermissions as each of the characters in the show self-destructed in Willy Wonka’s factory- just a brief pause after the Oompa Loompas’ short songs of moral criticism. And during that intermission the principal of the school would have stood up and said “Okay, ladies and gentlemen, do you identify with any of the parents in this show so far?”

(silence as parents look shamefully into their laps.)

“Mr. Zillman, don’t you think there are a few similarities between Mrs. Gloop’s parental strategy and your own at times?”

“Yes, Mrs. Camalleri.” (You have to imagine me saying this all drawn out like an admonished fourth grader).

“Good! Now Let’s see what happens next in the story. I think Mrs. Zillman might see something relevant to her parenting in our next scene!”

I was so tickled by the numerous moral lessons directed towards every parent in the room that I completely forgot to finish my self-indulgent daydreams of the fame I gave up for the altruistic ambitions I presently pursue… wink, wink.

Again, I am not submitting to you that my esteemed elementary school staged an ethics ambush upon our community of parents. I am saying that I would be okay if they had. I am also saying that the girl who played Veruca Salt was awesome. I am also saying that there is at least a 1 in 1,000,000 chance that I could have been a famous actor. I am also saying that Willy Wonka is my new parental guru.

So, to be clear, I’m not saying Western Avenue is coming after the parents.

I’m just saying.