We’re all used to sequels and reboots at this point – they’re a way of moviegoing life, and yet it still feels like there’s a specific air of trepidation around Warner Bros.’ Wonka. Gene Wilder’s turn as the eccentric candyman of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory is a childhood touchstone for multiple generations, and despite its attempts to hew closer to Roald Dahl’s novel, Tim Burton’s polarizing 2005 effort to readapt Charlie and the Chocolate Factory highlighted just how strongly fans wanted to be inspired and delighted by any cinematic depiction of the mercurial genius responsible for Everlasting Gobstoppers and Fizzy Lifting Drinks. Under the guidance of Paddington director Paul King, Wonka doesn’t fully honor the subversive charm of the Wilder movie, but it has a sweetness of its own that delivers a crowd-pleasing sugar rush for those happy enough to see a few good deeds shine in a weary world.

When you sit down to watch Wonka, you may be shocked to discover this thing’s full of singing and dancing, which, considering its Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory pedigree, shouldn’t be as surprising as it is. It’s the second attempt in two years at adapting a beloved Dahl classic into a movie musical; while Netflix’s Matilda benefited from drafting off the blueprint of a Tony-winning stage play, I’m happy to say that Wonka is able to mostly resist the urge to dip into the songbook of the 1971 original and forge its own compositional path. I’m hard-pressed to come up with a good reason as to why Warner Bros. isn’t selling that aspect of the movie harder, because the songs are just lovely. From the opening notes of “A Hat Full of Dreams,” Wonka takes off like a shot out of the gate and never goes too long without dipping into catchy, inventively staged numbers – there’s nary a “Cheer Up, Charlie” in the bunch. The songs give King ample opportunity to infuse Willy’s (and the director’s) surreal sensibilities into the dour world he’s trying to brighten with his passion. After making two of the best family movies in ages with Paddington and Paddington 2, King is a natural fit for the whimsical world of Wonka and keeps joy at the forefront. Anyone hoping for something as bold as the psychedelic boat ride chartered by Wilder will have to settle for a more middle-of-the-road approach.

Timothée Chalamet strikes a respectful, earnest tone in bringing to life a character who has already been played to perfection. Despite the numerous direct ties back to Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory – mostly in the form of recognizable quotes – Chalamet’s performance never hews too close to an imitation of Wilder, and that space gives him room to put his own sense of personality into the role. The Oscar nominee is at the center of nearly every musical number in the movie, and though his chops on that front aren’t revelatory, he does deliver on the open-hearted, sunny tunes with zeal. Chalamet gamely plays up Willy’s oddities with wide-eyed weirdness, but as mentioned above, fans of the character’s dark streak will have comparatively little of that sweet-and-sour contrast to enjoy. Willy is characterized here as an eternal optimist and, after seven years perfecting his confectionary bona fides, is bounding with good-natured excitement at the idea of owning a chocolate shop, which he also hopes will foster a connection with his mother, played by an underused Sally Hawkins. Though the fast-talking Willy drops some snark here and there, he’s a long way off from the cynic who’ll eventually close his factory to the public, and is therefore less prone to the momentary bouts of apathy that make previous versions of the character such a wild card.

Wonka is a movie that celebrates uniqueness, and Wonka’s dreams of sharing his confections with the world threaten the status quo for the “Chocolate Cartel”, a trio of wealthy rival candymen led by Slugworth (Paterson Joseph) who believe sweets should be simple, cheap to produce, and unable to make you fly. As functionary antagonists, Joseph, Matt Lucas, and Mathew Baynton keep things moving with amusing mustache-twirling. They hoard chocolate in subterranean vaults to drive up prices and wretch upon hearing the word “poor,” so let that set your expectations for the depths of the film’s villainy. Willy and the cartel’s opposing aesthetics are well-realized through production and costume design, with nice juxtaposition between the creative, flowy visual language Dahl’s fictional world invites and the hard-lined, utilitarian cleanliness of the bad guys.

Wonka’s supporting cast surrounds Willy with plenty of avenues for slapstick laughs. Olivia Colman’s Mrs. Scrubbitt and her disgusting yellow teeth steal every scene they’re in, and the predatory landlady’s romantic entanglements with her enforcer, Mr. Bleacher (Tom Davis), provide the movie’s biggest laughs. Mrs. Scrubbit has a habit of tricking guests of her boarding house into indentured servitude – that’s the last time Willy forgets to read the terms and conditions! – and the other “boarders” Willy befriends motivate him to help those who have put their dreams on hold. Rowan Atkinson stops by to play a chocoholic priest, with each of his scenes serving as miniature showcases for his legendary physical comedy, which is always appreciated (especially when it feels like he has fewer and fewer opportunities to flex those skills these days.)

Some of the minor characters do end up feeling like a toothbrush in your Halloween bag, though. I’ve been quite fond of Hugh Grant’s run of comedic supporting turns in recent years, but Lofty the Oompa Loompa feels like Wonka’s most shoehorned-in element of Dahl lore. Lofty has been disgraced by failing to stop Willy’s theft of Loompa Land’s cacao beans, a thematic thread the movie has zero interest in interrogating with any substance. Grant plays the Oompa Loompa’s urbane pompousness well, but he enters the story far too late and with far too little impact to feel essential. Keegan-Michael Key’s police chief, who gets increasingly chunky with every chocolate bribe he takes, feels lost in a one-note gag that neither his old timey cop voice nor his sweet tooth help to land. Wonka is briskly paced enough that any of its misses can’t grate for too long (outside of a second-act down stretch stemming from a string of Willy’s failures), but the police-corruption angle of the story barely matters and Key’s distracting performance usually underlines that.