the pointlessness of candy

is why candy, especially chocolate, is such a delight. And despite not being pointless, Tim Burton's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is a delight, too.

I'm late seeing this film, just released on DVD, and was not expecting much except bright colours, even though I am a die-hard Johnny Depp fan. I was never able to get into the earlier Gene Wilder version, but this newer version has made me want to read Roald Dahl's books.
And as these things go, and Joan Didion eloquently speaks of in her new book The Year of Magical Thinking, I was soon in a vortex of my own, one thought within six degrees of connection to the next.

I was familiar with the children's author Roald Dahl because he was the husband of the phenomonal actress Patricia Neal. She who won an Oscar for her portrayal of the earthy, laconic older woman to a young roguish Paul Newman in Hud. She, who like my mother, suffered a massive stroke at a young age. And she, who like my mother, battled back against huge odds to live her life with dignity.

That is how I knew Roald Dahl. He was Patricia Neal's British husband, who helped her with her recovery, invented a medical shunt for their brain-injured son, and then, after 30 years of marriage ran off with her best friend. I knew he wrote dark children's books.

Which is perhaps why I could never get into the original Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory film. It wasn't dark and I wasn't getting 'the point'. Yet, this new film's darkness is bitter and warming, like a rich chocolate. And it made me delight in the original story. It introduced me to Roald Dahl for his imaginative storytelling. I'm so glad I have a young niece and nephew who will probably love his stuff. (Well, maybe in a few years. I don't want to traumatize them).

And I sure would like to zip around, in any direction, anywhere, in a glass elevator.