Sometimes you’re craving something sweet — and if that’s all you’re looking for, Wonka offers it, wrapped up with a bow.

The film, in theaters Dec. 15, is an origin story for Willy Wonka and his factory, but more pertinently, it’s a fresh start for the character that’s not beholden to the novel or previous film adaptations. With his elfin angles and his mop of hair teased into fuller Gene Wilder curls, Timothée Chalamet leads the film as Willy, a young man who dreams of opening a chocolate shop. When he travels to an unidentified, vaguely Western European town, he is determined to make good on a promise to his mother to share his chocolate with the world.

But a run-in with innkeeper Mrs. Scrubbit (Olivia Colman) plunges him into indentured servitude until he and a motley crew devise a (chocolate-related, naturally) plan to free themselves. A plan that is significantly complicated by the machinations of a Chocolate Cartel comprised of Slugworth (Paterson Joseph), Prodnose (Matt Lucas), and Ficklegruber (Mathew Baynton).

In many ways, Wonka is far more delightful than it has any right to be (and lightyears better than its dreadful trailers). But that goes to show that no one should underestimate co-writer and director Paul King, the man behind everything pure and good in this world, a.k.a. the Paddington movies. Much of those films’ earnestness, emphasis on kindness, and whimsy can be found in Wonka, even if the movie doesn’t approach that franchise’s level of emotional resonance. Still, Wonka shares a lot more with King’s affable sensibility than Charlie and the Chocolate Factory author Roald Dahl’s cynical approach (which, to be clear, is a good thing).

King and his talented design team craft a world of spun sugar and fantastical delights sure to please the eyes, most noticeably in the pastels and jewel tones of Wonka’s shop. But they’re more interested in coloring in this world through less traditional means, be it quirky formats for scenes (i.e. exposition via animated blueprint, childhood memories via flipbook), sight gags (two words: hairless cat), or musical numbers. Yes, that’s right, Wonka is a capital M musical with original songs by Neil Hannon.

Perhaps this is merely a testament to the immense skill of Leslie Bricusse, but Wonka’s best songs remain the two tracks it borrows from 1971’s Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory — “Pure Imagination” and “Oompa Loompa,” both of which are also employed judiciously throughout the film’s score. But if the tunes aren’t particularly memorable, the spectacle is with an old-school MGM feeling to the framing and editing. Christopher Gattelli’s choreography dazzles, particularly in large ensemble numbers which King gives room to breathe in wide shots (a rarity in modern musicals).

In addition to the music, there’s due reverence (and reference) to the 1971 classic, with a winking “scratch that, reverse it” moment and an orange and green-haired Oompa Loompa, played by Hugh Grant, with a blend of mild annoyance and camp. Though Grant’s casting drew backlash when announced, it must be said that King uses the character, Lofty, with appropriate restraint, making his appearances welcome. As established in Paddington 2, King brings out something special in Grant, somehow coaxing a unique blend of Grant’s rom-com befuddlement and pomposity into a vanity-free sense of abandon. (May we launch a formal petition for all credit sequences to include a Grant musical number?)

Chalamet carries the thrust of the film (and Wilder’s legacy) admirably on his slight shoulders. He’s a warm and winning Wonka, infusing the character with a fanciful sense of humor and a guileless enthusiasm. Every so often, he dips into madness, a wink toward Wilder’s more unpredictable chocolatier, but he also makes the character wholly his own. He’s surrounded by an estimable supporting cast, including precocious breakout Calah Lane as resourceful orphan Noodle, who gives the film its heart.

While many on screen devour chocolate, it’s Colman who chews the scenery, giving us full Les Misérables Madame Thénardier cosplay by way of Miss Hannigan. She’s cartoonishly evil (a compliment in this case), and it’s abundantly evident that absolutely no one had more fun making this movie than she did.

Keegan-Michael Key disappoints as the Chief of Police, though it’s largely not his fault. King and co-writer Simon Farnaby stuff the movie with head-scratching, vastly unfunny fat jokes that feel pulled from an early aughts romantic comedy. For a director who usually produces sensitive, caring work, it feels both wildly out of character and entirely unnecessary.

Wonka as a whole has the touch of the British music hall about it in its narrative rhythms and tinkling musical numbers. The best part of that tradition it borrows, however, is the ways in which it revels in its own ridiculousness (nothing in a movie this year is more inventive or dryly hilarious than the notion of a Chocolate Cartel and their devilish deal with a chocolate-obsessed cleric and chocoholic monks, who, yes, do perform Gregorian chants about sweets). In addition to committing to its sense of fun, Wonka reminds us that life is made sweetest by the people we share it with. If that’s not particularly novel, it’s still as comforting and scrumptious a notion as a chocolate bar.