Review by Blue Sky
My first thoughts upon hearing that Tim Burton and Danny
Elfman were tackling a new adaptation of Roald Dahl's novel were ones
of complete joy. I couldn't think of a better pair more suited to Dahl's
own dark kookiness. Then, as the months passed and the first shots from
the film leaked, I grew despondant and disheartened. That was the trouble;
it was all too perfect for them. It wasn't going to be anything special;
it was just going to be another film where Burton-does-Burton, and Elfman-does-Elfman.
It wasn't going to be anything new or special or different or anything
to get excited about.
And in many ways I was right. And in many ways I was completely wrong.
Talk about the original 1971 film with any person and they
will invariably break out into one of the repetitive (but instantly memorable,
if only because it gets sung fifty-gazillion times) Oompa Loompa songs.
You'd be forgiven for thinking that Elfman would come up with something
equally kooky in A Nightmare Before Christmas styled mould. "Well,
I guess they'll be fun," I said to myself, "even if they're nothing particularly
special." But who knew that they would turn out to be such a surprise?
'Wonka's Welcome Song' perked my interest on first hearing it in the - now
infamous - teaser trailer (the one which caused my former housemate to come
bounding shrieking down the steps, burst into the living room and demanding
to know 'what the **** has Burton done now!!!'). A delightful song which
defiantly crosses the border into a deliberately cringeworthy grating
clichéd mess of synthesised fairground oompahing and smurftastic cries of
exultation, it is by no means as musically interesting (or hilarious) as the
main Oompa Loompa songs, but remains nevertheless a joyous curiousity
designed to instantly seperate those people with a love of ironical cheese
to those who clamp up like a prawn, sink down into their seats, and try to
pretend they only came to see the film because of their small child
(regardless of whether they actually own a small child or not).
'Augustus Gloop' (the first song, not the character) seems to tease the
audience by starting with a single lined rhythmic cry of "Oompa Loompa!"; a
direct hark back to the pieces in the original film. All seems well and
good and back to normal so far in these first few seconds, but watch the
look on a first-time-listener's face as each new element of the song falls
into place one by one, from the over-the-top African tribal chanting and
beat, to the seventies rock and strings, and - finally - the ska-esque
horns, all complete with the monstrously tweaked multi-layered vocals of
Elfman himself, the deranged likes of which we've only previously been
privvy to in the original demo recording of 'This Is Halloween' (available
on MFADT2).
And if you think that that's the funniest thing you've ever heard, wait
until 'Violet Beauregard', which I can only describe as being an
industrial-dance-sampled-techno-funk-jazz-R'n'B mini masterpiece. My life
is now split into two; before and after I heard this song. And if someone
knows how to get "chewing, chewing, all day long" out of my brain it would
be much appreciated.
'Veruca Salt' is possibly the only song which Elfman explicitly uses the
content (rather than the rhythms) of Dahl's lyrics to full comedic
potential, with the disturbing and icky descriptions of the rotten and foul
substances Veruca and her father will encounter on their journey down the
chute juxtaposed humourously with the gentle and beautiful 70's styled
ballad which contains echoes of Mike Oldfield, Paul McCartney, and Art and
Garfunkel. This song in particular makes you fully appreciate the spot-on
vocal work he delivers, which nails the breathy lilt required for the style
perfectly.
It is only in the final song - 'Mike Teevee' that Elfman seems to flounder
slightly, though admittedly his all-out pastiché of Queen (with a sprinkling
of the Beatles) is perfectly executed, somehow it doesn't quite have the
magic of the other songs. Luckily this is more than made up for within the
movie itself as Burton puts to the song possibly the most surreal montage of
bizarre imagery he's ever committed to film thus far.
I must admit that I cannot understand how any person with a sense of humour
could not roll around on the floor in hysterics at just how funny these
songs are; even Burton - who has never directed a musical before - manages
to compliment them marvellously within the film, putting the icing on the
cake with the almost-perfectly matched choreography and costumes. Not that
anyone else in the 300+ audience at the cinema so much as smiled; rather,
shifted uncomfortably, stared in glazy silence, or (as a few people did)
walked out. The guy sitting next to me kept glancing sideways in annoyance
as I writhed around in my chair clutching at my sides, before losing faith
in the entire film and burying his face in his girlfriend's shoulder.
It is quite clear that a lot of time and energy was spent on these songs,
which are all nigh on perfectly executed and full of rhythmic and motivic
complexity, and all exhibit luscious arrangements and gorgeously layered
orchestrations which stretch each of them almost to breaking point. It's
just such a shame that this attention to detail apparently failed to go into
the actual score.
It's not that there's anything wrong with the score, at all. But - for me
at least - especially after the unexpected direction he took with the songs,
it seems to just be paint by numbers for Elfman (as a lot of the film seems
for Burton as well). The main titles exhibit a stock standard Red
Dragon-esque opening into a Spider-Man reminiscent insistent string
ostinato. An overly haunting and dangerous (considering the tone of the
film) theme on the horns sits icy, distant, and overtly simplistic from the
rest of the orchestration. And the piece just goes on; the theme is
repeated in whole or part several times along with various other motifs
already familiar as Elfman decoration from other scores. The only
distinguishing characteristics are the horns (which as previously mentioned
seem almost out of place somehow), some delightfully zany use of a theramin
(or some other electronica) and some rhythmical Oompa Loompa styled warbling
chanting (presumably Elfman's vocals) which compliment the thin layer of
factory sounds accompanying the
almost-Burtonesque-but-not-quite-because-surely-he-wouldn't-use-CGI? visuals
during the opening credits.
After the quiet subtlety of Big Fish, and the complex
motif usage in Spider-Man and Red Dragon, and especially
the vibrancy humour and love which have evidently gone into producing
the songs, the main theme to Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
seems too safe and secure to get excited about, aside from some wonderful
moments of zany orchestration. The haunting theme does get under your
skin, but as nothing else within the film comes close to being as scary
or eerie, it seems misjudged and out of place.
Unlike the Nightmare Before Christmas where the
score and the songs go hand in hand and blend seamlessly in your memory,
in Burton's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory it is the songs which
have the life and the score which will no doubt be overlooked and forgotten...however
unfairly that may seem.
In-film: songs: Five of them Wonka marshmallow-delight
bars which I don't remember the name of [insert correct name here] (*
* * *)
In-film: score: Three and a Half sticks of Blueberry Pie chewing gum (*
* * 1/2)
CD: * * * 1/2
Review by Bluntinstrument
If ever there was a composer synonymous with wackiness,
tackiness and all-round goofiness, that composer is Danny Elfman. No matter
how many 'serious' scores he writes, a step into the wild luminous worlds
he first created in Pee Wee's Big Adventure will always be seen
as a return home. In his umpteenth collaboration with über-weird
director-auteur, Danny is handed the ultimate vehicle for cheesy themes
and luminous orchestration (anything goes, from sitar to theramin imitation),
and while he lets himself go when given space to breathe, he is careful
not to push his advantage to the detriment of the film.
On one hand he has the Oompa-Loompa songs, voiced by himself,
each hitting on a different style (at a guess, a Flubber-esque
mambo for Augustus Gloop, 70's funk for Violet Bauregarde, 60's boy band
plus Abba for Veruca Salt, and anything from Boingo to Queen for Mike
Teavee), and given early showing on the CD. This is a good choice: it
is very much the selling point of the disc and is also a rather good setting
of Dahl's text. And don't forget the yodelling Swiss cheese of 'Wonka's
welcome song'! It is the perfect opener to a disc packed with the weird
and the wonderful. It is preposterously cheap from its strictly-measured
melody and unadventurous harmonies to its plasticky instrumentation and
yodelling filligree.
On the other hand there is the less apparent "orchestral"
score, starting with the 'Main titles' in track 6. We know already that
this score has been given the composer's full attention from the variety
of the songs. What we are ill-prepared for is the tone of this music:
While the notorious trailer (including the 'Welcoming song' cheekily out
of context) and marketing images of the film emphasized the oddness of
Burton's new film, Elfman seems to have been keen to highlight a more
exciting, even creepy, element in the crucial opening titles music, rather
as he did in Mars Attacks! In interview, the composer often comments
on how in this sequence he will often attempt to create expectations of
the movie as a whole to enable an audience not to fret with any slow or
inauspicious start to a movie. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
is very much in need of such music: it grants the audience a sense of
the mystery behind the factory... and its dangers.
And finally, to underscore scenes which involve Wonka's
childhood or Charlie's home life, he hits on an understated melodic style
honed in Big Fish.
One also cannot help hearing touches from Flubber
and Men In Black 2 (MiiB), not only in the orchestration
but also in some of the driving motion. Listen to 'Wonka's first shop'
for the utterly committed dramatic underscoring style Elfman was so keen
to employ as a hommage to Bernard Herrmann from Pee Wee's Big Adventure
onwards. The opening of 'The Indian Palace' exults in cod-Eastern flavour,
going straight for the sitar and tabla, ethnic flute, eerie chorus and
filligree string writing, but by the halfway mark he knows the story is
the important factor and is willing to shift straight on to thriller territory,
bringing out a beautifully tortured triple-time melody that is at once
associated with the heart of the film (much like that of Big Fish) and
with celeste and chorus. It is used again almost immediately on disc for
"Wheels in motion", but wait for the end of the track for a
sensational succession of styles before ending in innocent repose.
A quick note on the film. Bluntinstrument's verdict is
wholly positive. Dahl's novels rely on a variety of strengths to appeal
to their audience: creative imagery, moral text (normally extolling love,
friendship or general goodness, without saturating the story with it),
grotesque characters, and never talking down to the reader. Recognising
the strengths in this philosophy and in Dahl's execution, Burton makes
his tinkering minimal (adding Wonka's father figure, and thus the Burtonesque
sad monster by extension, together with the usual flashbacks), and instead
concentrates on keeping the action light and setpieces bubblegum, leaving
Johnny Depp an open path for another powerhouse performance. Rather like
Oliver in Oliver, Charlie is the conduit of the story rather than
its epicentre, and the fact that film adaptations only accentuate Dahl's
writing is merely because we lose out on Charlie's unspoken thoughts in
the transfer.
It should be noted that the songs for Burton's movie were
necessarily written first. It is the songs which influenced Burton's direction
and Loompa choreography and not the reverse. Elfman was encouraged merely
to have fun with Dahl's lyrics, and most Elfman fans will be left in no
doubt that the composer threw caution to the wind and created a varied
collection only he could have the audacity to undertake.
While Burton went away and started mixing chocolate rivers,
Elfman was given leave to continue with other projects, completing his
first 'mature' concert work, Serenada Schizophrana (does anyone
hear the spirit of that score in bd17 of CatCF?). It is interesting
in this work to see how comfortable the composer was with his style in
this work - there is no self-conscious attempt at creating a new image
for himself. The muse may have been different but the composer remains
stylistically truthful. And so when returning to the film, the composer
seems by no means altered by the experience: the score may sound very
different, but he is reacting to very different stimulae (i.e. filmic
action, not character assassination by text). Hence the almost shocking
shift between the gleeful opening songs on the commercial soundtrack and
the following orchestral score. Still, there are a number of elements
which connect these two universes, and the first can be found in the soundworld:
Elfman is keen to hint at vocals and cheesy synths, but also ensures they
do not overpower Burton's film in the way he might have done at the time
he scored Beetlejuice.
Another link is with the fundamental motif of the Oompa
Loompas [ex1, below] (each mimed in bladder-busting
dead-pan by Deep Roy): a tribal style of underscore, with the mantra of
a rising minor third (characteristic of any 1930s voodoo-themed radio
serial), over which Elfman adds a number of imposing countermelodies -
a song for 'Augustus Gloop' (bd2, in inversion [clip,
bd2] at first, but otherwise riddled through the track), an imposing
brass melody (bd14 [clip bd14]),
etc.
From a score-only standpoint, there is certainly a recognizable
'main theme' as exhibited in the opening titles [ex2],
and it is fun to see it metamorphose from brass march to a sweet tripletime
melody by the Finale [ex3; clip
bd20a]. It's three-note shape is given pre-echoes in the beginning
of the 'Main titles' cue [clip bd1], and at
several points it turns into a spooky celeste motif reminiscent of one
used by David Arnold in Godzilla. Incidentally, another theme prominent
in the 'Finale' [ex4, clip
bd20b]) is reminiscent of 'Sandra's Theme' from Big Fish, mostly
through their triple-time metre, wistful melody and tendency to be associated
with lighter instrumentation such as the flute.
In reading back on this review, the sheer enthusiasm of
my response to this music both initially and after more careful consideration
means I have no option but to give this score full marks on all counts.
The orchestral score may not be as rewarding on disc, but perhaps this
is because Elfman's showcase scenes of the film are mainly songs, but
bowing to necessity hardly seems an excuse to dock even half a point when
the experience as a whole is such fun. Elfman is right at home in Charlie's
house.
Score rating: * * * *
CD rating: * * * *
Ex.1
Ex.2 
Ex.3 
Ex.4 
Indian mystical versus Bollywood - the eternal
cultural divide plundered for Elfman's wicked gains.
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