Why is everyone so down on Johnny Depp here? Granted, he's not Gene Wilder, but then he's not trying to be. What he's done here is think logically about what a guy who'd been cooped up in a giant building for twenty years with nobody to talk to but a bunch of singing dwarves might conceivably act like, and then he ran with it. Of course Willy Wonka is going to be an eccentric, paranoid social maladroit -- who wouldn't be after all that time? He's not the malevolent huckster of the 1971 film (or the book, if memory serves), but he's something possibly even more dangerous: He's a candy-colored clown who's lost his moral bearings. Roald Dahl's story was always a finger-wagging horror flick in kidlit disguise; Depp's just being more honest about it than the rest of us. Tim Burton's here to help too -- he takes the lysergic set design of the first film and tweaks it just enough to suit his Expressionistic tastes, then blends in his own brand of off-the-wall misfit humor. (Seriously, the humor in this flick is cracked. I mean, the hall of flags? The puppet burn unit? The cannibalism joke? I mean, WOW.) It's a shame, then, that Burton and screenwriter John August have to derail their marvelous film with a crap subplot about Wonka's candy-hating father. Between this and Big Fish, Burton's starting to out-dad Spielberg. Please leave the daddy issues to your therapist and definitely don't let them track their muddy feet all over the piss-poor ending to your otherwise-fantastic film, okay? Okay.