Cosm turns ‘Willy Wonka’ into a multi-sensory experience

We are at the beginning of the era of “experimental cinema”.

At least that’s the proposal from entrepreneurs like Cosm’s Jeb Terry and Sphere’s James Dolan, whose vaulted spaces have embraced the idea of ​​reviving older films to augment them with new technology. Terry used the phrase Tuesday in his introduction to a revival of 1971’s “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory,” which premieres this week at Inglewood’s Cosm with modern CGI animation, meant to emphasize the whimsy and childlike wonder of Gene Wilder’s film.

“Wonka” is Cosm’s second attempt at redefining the moviegoing experience — “The Matrix” got the Cosm treatment last summer and “Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone” will be released next year. Watching a movie in what the venue calls “shared reality” can be all-encompassing and at the same time intimate and communal and, if all goes well, somewhat thoughtful. The 87-foot-diameter spherical screen wraps around above, below, and behind us, but the emphasis on the sofa seating invites a cooperative environment. And guests are encouraged, for example, to take out their phones and capture and share the moment.

It’s good fun if you don’t take it too seriously, because experiential, in the case of “Wonka,” means that a film dedicated to the power of imagination sometimes leaves a little less to it. Witty and bright, Cosm’s approach to “Wonka,” a collaboration with experimental company Secret Cinema and visual effects house MakeMake, is to ensure that audiences are never surrounded by eye candy. The result is alternately charming and conflicting – why, I asked myself, isn’t the animation done in a 1970s style to better complement the film?

In turn, has the film’s new magic replaced its subtle mystery? Or is that the wrong question to ask at displays meant to look like a social event, complete with chocolate pies filled with peanut butter mousse and bright red vodka drinks rimmed with gold glitter salt?

For this is experiential at its most. The film’s unfurling opening credits with streams of chocolate chips are now accompanied by softened images that appear partially inspired by “Super Mario Bros.”, while tubes and pipes aim to place the audience inside a milk chocolate factory. It’s cute and will have you pulling your attention away from the framed movie screen to look at the animated toy-like mechanisms. My only issue here was that the edges of the filmed images were sharpened by bright, smooth animation.

Elsewhere, the film’s reporting is lengthened to show us an entire cartoon-like soundstage, scenes of children galloping on the sidewalk passing by as additional assembly lines produce chocolate beneath them, and the film’s first big song-and-dance moment, “The Candy Man,” is now surrounded by carnival-inspired visuals with spinning candy buttons, slot machine-like flowers, and gentle prompts to, if not sing along, at least mouth the lyrics.

“Wonka,” a moderate hit when it was released, grew in stature over time as Sammy Davis Jr. turned “The Candy Man” into a hit and second-run television showings made home viewing vital for future generations. It is, at times, delightfully demented, a family film with a strange – perhaps even a little sinister – twist. And yet I went to the premiere of Cosm’s “Wonky” not as a film critic, but as someone curious about emerging movements in the immersive industry, more interested in how Cosm could use his technology to improve, revitalize, or find ways to brighten a second-run film.

Illuminate is a key word, as when young Peter Ostrum, playing Charlie, unwraps a chocolate bar with the much-coveted golden ticket, the animated images around the framed screen explode into fireworks. I remember watching that scene as a child and feeling a little tense, fearing, perhaps, that the ticket would be snatched from him by the consuming crowd. Even so, Cosm intends to transform “Wonka” into pure joy. This moment was a reminder of how much influence on the emotional tone of the film this supplementary material can have.

In that sense, Cosm’s immersive ambitions differ from experiments of the past — 90s interactive dalliances recently revived on Netflix (see “Black Mirror: Bandersnatch”), or newer 4DX theaters with motion-enabled seats (see the light, water and wind effects of “Twisters”). Maybe that’s why what I thought worked best became more abstract, when, say, cartoonish cityscapes gave way to black-and-white pencil-like effects, or when animations emphasized the madness of Wonka’s factory rather than trying to flesh it out.

I was distracted, for example, when Wilder’s Wonka made his grand entrance, as the shy building behind him was now dwarfed by bright, shiny warehouses. However, I was transfixed when Wilder’s character, near the end, was framed amid blindingly fast beams of light, or when Oompa Loompa’s sidekick characters were depicted out of frame as colorful orbs that looked like strands of DNA.

I really feel it’s important to note that I’m more than two decades removed from having seen the original “Wonka.” Fresher in my mind are more recent cinematic explorations of the material and characters. While I chose to revisit “The Matrix” before watching that film on Cosm, I took a different approach with “Wonka,” and I believe the likelihood of embracing what Cosm is attempting will increase exponentially through attachment to the source material. Having forgotten large parts of the film, I was conflicted – whether to watch the original film or focus on Cosm’s equipment – ​​whereas with “The Matrix”, the material was fresh in the mind and therefore I was more comfortable walking around and looking at the impressive dome display.

And it’s impressive, indeed. When Charlie begins to float in Wonka’s factory, Cosm lifts the film frame, surrounding it with bubbles. Soon, depending on your seat, you may be able to look straight up. Cosm’s visuals are so sharp that they can sometimes simulate movement and dimension, and we find ourselves dizzily lost when characters are trapped in a room with seemingly no doors.

Elsewhere, Cosm comes to life when Denise Nickerson’s Violet transforms into a bouncing blueberry. Another clever moment: when Charlie’s wall of moving hands extends beyond the screen and begins waving at the audience.

It is in these cases that the film comes to life, and Cosm’s vision of experiential cinema stops seeming like a novelty and becomes an experience.