Saturday morning I went to see Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Place the same weight on these words as you might to the phrase "I smoked three joints and spent 2 1/2 hours watching MTV classic Tivo recordings with no commercials and my hand down my pants."

We arrived at the theater at about 9:15, our $3 Battelle-employee-special-omnipotent tickets in hand. As did everyone. Every family in the theater except perhaps us had five children per capita. One with particularly powerful thigh muscles sat in the seat directly behind me and kicked whenever he was bored/scared/confused/upset/happy/being choked by either his mother or myself. We endured the now-standard 1/2 hour of commercials, or at least other people did because I got up to complain that the picture was out of focus. If it hadn't been for me nobody would have fixed it, probably. They were too busy trying to keep their evil monsters adorable cherubs from climbing the walls. I honestly think the only thing those kids understood was the slapstick Ice Age 2 trailer. (One started crying during the one for Corpse Bride; I laughed at him.) Apparently no one bothered to inform parents that Wonka wasn't a kids movie.

I'm not going to give spoilers. It's too good. It's too GOD. Johnny Depp still manages to be (perverse) sex even while playing a platonic, psychotic and antisocial character. I think the Depp/Burton pair is one of the universe's best favors to our species.

However...cloned Saturday Night Fever Oompa Loompas will bless my M.C. Escher dreams for the rest of my life.