Bzzzt...

WRONG!

From The Desk of Kathleen Nelson

To: Hollywood
From: Me
RE: The Raping of My Childhood

Would you people cut it the HELL out? I've about had it with you people raping my cherished childhood movie memories because some Genius Producer decided it would be a fucking fantastic idea. Furthermore, I've had it with your faulty assumption that because a. I loved the movie when I was a child and b. I am now of reproductive age that I will c. automatically take my 2.5 children to see this flaming piece of crap. And, like, because, like, it's got Johnny Depp in it, and he's, like, all HOTHOTHOT right now! And he was, like, fantastic in that pirate movie!

I am not a sheep. I do not utter multiple "BAAAAAAA"'s because you want me to.

What is the matter with you people? Have you nothing better to do with your time than to exploit my very happy childhood because yours was bad so you spend a thousand dollars a month on therapy? Is this your plan for world movie domination? Are you sitting in some feng-shuied-to-hell-and-back office on the Warner Brothers lot, greedily rubbing your palms together, a maniacal cackle on the verge of slipping from your collagen injected lips, just waiting for the cash to start rolling in?

GOD!

But let us diverge from the topic of the rape of my childhood memories for a moment and focus on other things.

What sort of rhinoplastic hell did you force Johnny Depp to endure to look like what you thought the part of Willy Wonka should look like? Did you set him up for an extended stint in the Elizabeth Taylor Suite at the Joan Rivers' Institute for Advanced Rhinoplasty for all the work, or did you simply inject a botox suppository up his ass to avoid all those troublesome shots of botulism? Have you possibly noticed that he's as white as a goodamn mime, as well? Did you give him whatever Michael Jackson is afflicted with or is that simply makeup? I'm assuming it's the latter, but you people throw around your money like a redneck throws beer bottles up in the air for shooting practice, so one simply never knows. You do realize that with the white face and the obsession with children, Johnny does kind of give off that whole Michael Jackson-pedophile vibe, right? Because that's what I thought of. I began wondering when Charlie was going to be taken aside and shown Willy's wee-wee.

Furthermore, if you're going to spend GOBS of cash hiring Tim Burton---and then spending millions of hours dealing with the weirdness that comes part and parcel with him---you might want to make sure your visionary is actually, you know, being visionary. From what I've seen it looks as if he ran the original film through the filters of the stoners he lived next door to when he was a freshman in college who, like, thought the movie was so trippy, maaaaan! Your visionary envisaged nothing new. He did not take Roald Dahl's work to heart. Rather, he took the original movie to heart and went from there. While I could not pick out the oompa-loompas as the cuts were too quick, all the sets nonetheless looked exactly like the original. Only darker. Because Tim is, like, so dark What? Was Tim having a few off-months or what? You might want to think about getting your money back. This movie is going to scare kids. It will not make them wonder about the wonderful world of Willy Wonka's chocolate factory, wishing they could win their very own gold ticket. It will, however, make them worry about the bad, bad man up on the screen. But, take heart, people. If nothing else, it should work as a wonderful anti-drug campaign in about five years.

Which brings us back to the original topic: what the hell were you thinking, remaking a beloved classic? Do you people not know the Rule of Remakes? Let me enlighten you: YOU DO NOT REMAKE A MOVIE THAT WAS GREAT! You just don't do it. You PISS PEOPLE OFF when you do. You can, however, remake a movie that had a great premise but was faultily executed. If you need an example of this rule, see Ocean's Eleven. There are plenty of bad movies around. Go trolling through the vaults and find one of those to remake. Don't fuck with brilliance. The Gods of Brilliance should and will---rightly, I might add---strike you down for your impertinence, you fucking morons, because you're raping my fondly held childhood movie memories.

I'll save my venting about how Johnny Depp will never fill Gene Wilder's shoes for another day.

There. I feel better. Now, run to the therapist and cry your poor widdle eyes out because the bad, bad woman was mean to you. Maybe you'll score some extra prozac for your troubles.

Posted by Kathy at January 9, 2005 11:08 PM