"We are the music-makers / And we are the dreamers of dreams" - Arthur O'Shaughnessy
Precisely on the last stroke of ten, the factory door opens and a figure slowly walks into view. The first thing you notice is his dress style, one part Beau Brummel and three parts Mad Hatter - camel-colored top hat, deep plum frock coat, oversized gold bow tie, riotously flowered vest - but despite his baroque appearance his demeanor is sternly sad and he walks with a stiff-legged limp, leaning on his gold-handled cane to maneuver him along the red carpet. A profound hush falls over the crowd, so that the sounds of the figure echo in the stillness as he makes labored progress along the red carpet - step-click, step-click - toward the wrought-iron factory gates. Just before he reaches the crowd, the cane lodges firmly between two cobblestones, and for a few steps he continues without it. Slowly, comprehension dawns on his face as he futilely grasps at the air. A beat, and he slowly falls forward... then tucks and rolls, doing a neat somersault. As he rises up before the crowd, top hat in hand and wild curls set free, the sad blue eyes suddenly twinkle with delight and a smile breaks over his face, as though he had just shared some secret and marvelous joke. He spreads his arms wide - and as they say in the sports world, the crowd goes wild.
In just under one minute of screen time, Gene Wilder has managed to do two notable things: first, he has concisely expressed the unpredictable, magical quality of the character of Willy Wonka; second, he has his audience - both onscreen and off - eating out of his hand. And all this is accomplished without a single word of dialogue. According to the Internet Movie Database, Wilder accepted the role only on the condition that he be allowed to introduce the character with this scene, which was his own idea. He believed that by firmly cementing the concept of Willy Wonka as a trickster, the audience would stay with him no matter what else he did - and he was right.
Wilder must have known that he would need the audience to stay with him. Willy Wonka is, after all, a character of many moods - not all of them sweet and whimsical. He may sing a dreamy little song as he introduces his guests to the fantastic Chocolate Room, but he also whips his cane down hard enough to draw welts and bruises on those who might be tempted to stray too far ahead, and he isn't above pulling hair to get a child's attention. His laissez-faire methods of letting the naughty children and their parents eliminate themselves, while often possessing a kind of poetic justice, can be cruel and slightly sadistic. And there are certain moments - in Wonka's surreal office, in the Great Glass Wonkavator, and especially in the scene aboard the Wonkatania - when the audience is convinced all those years of listening to Oompa-Loompa choruses have caused Wonka's sanity to slip a cog.
When Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory was first released to theaters, the Wonkatania scene probably inspired the most nightmares in its young viewers. Far more than the creepy images displayed on the tunnel walls - reptiles, centipedes, a chicken decapitation - the most disturbing image in the scene is provided by Wilder himself. Psychedelic flashes of red light illuminate and obscure Mr. Wonka's face in quick succession, and his eyes dart from right to left like a demented Kit-Cat clock as he begins to sing a little poem under his breath. At first reminiscent of an eerie schoolyard chant, the poem builds and builds in intensity to the final lines, which Wonka recites in a full-throated, mad shriek that shakes his entire frame. In a word, he is terrifying. Even adult viewers are left wondering how the film managed to get a G rating.
And yet Wilder shows us there is method to Wonka's apparent madness. His frightening turns have a definite purpose, since they help him discover who among the children is capable of doing the right thing, even under tremendous pressure. Each of the children is being surreptitiously tested as a possible heir to a candy empire, and Mr. Wonka has to know who possesses the courage and sensitivity and love to run things the way he would, even after he is gone. One of the simplest and most beautiful moments in the film takes place in Mr. Wonka's office, when Charlie - even after being told that he will receive nothing from Mr. Wonka due to his disobedience - chooses to return his Everlasting Gobstopper rather than selling it to Mr. Slugworth as his grandfather suggests. From the moment the Gobstopper touches his desk, Mr. Wonka stops his furious writing, and as Charlie walks away, the camera focuses in, not on Wonka's face, but on his left hand. It moves out gracefully to envelop the odd-looking little candy, and his long fingers wrap tenderly around the edge of the desk. All Mr. Wonka's hopes for the future are encapsulated in this one expressive movement, and in his murmured observation, "So shines a good deed in a weary world."
The continuing popularity of Roald Dahl's book and the public fascination with wealthy, reclusive eccentric characters pretty much guarantees that there will be multiple film versions made of this story. Other directors and other actors will have varying interpretations of Willy Wonka's character and motivation. It is difficult, however, to imagine a performance that could outstrip Gene Wilder's in thoughtfulness and range of expression. His portrayal of Willy Wonka, though initially underappreciated by critics, is simply brilliant.