A couple of days ago, Der B and I took little William to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. We all loved it. I think Tim Burton did a very good job trusting the original book, only tweeking it with his own sense of visual humor; the only parts of the film that weren't quite in synch were the flashbacks involving Christopher Lee, which were an invention for the film.
There was one terrible thing that occurred in the theater, however. The film was scheduled to start at one in the afternoon. It didn't. It started at twenty-five minutes after one in the afternoon. This wasn't because the projectionist had fallen asleep. No, this was because we were treated to at least twelve trailers for upcoming films. I can understand five trailers for upcoming films, but twelve is excessive.
Worse, these twelve trailers for upcoming films were preceeded by at least as many advertisements. No, the theater didn't run a series of invitations to join them at the refreshment stand. These were advertisements for cars, and for cell phones (that blight of ear infections), and for Old Navy, and for other things that a five-year-old child has little interest in or need for. I'm amazed that William was able to sit through this needlessly long run of ads, but he did, very patiently.
This may explain, however, when he pointed to the front of the screening room and asked his Grampaw "Is that the telebision screen?" I'd be confused about the difference, too, given what he'd experienced.
