Standing outside a graffitied warehouse in Los Angeles’ Arts District, I didn’t know what to expect from a recreation of Glasgow’s disastrous Willy Wonka event. I had heard a lot about the bungled children’s experience, which included AI-generated characters, sparse and low-budget sets and costuming, and a sad Oompa Loompa who had become somewhat of a local celebrity since the event. Unlike what happened in Glasgow, this event was primarily marketed to grown adults, capitalising off of the meme and turning it into… well an incredibly meta and campy display of performance art.

Me and my fellow attendees were greeted with a spoof of the original Roald Dahl character, Grandpa Joe, bedridden on what seemed to be a heavy duty shopping trolley from Costco and resting against a cardboard headboard. He was wheeled out to the gate, crying out improvised phrases while wielding an unlit candle. Giggles erupted in the small group that had arrived early for the one-day event, setting the tone for what was to come. Other characters included Mr Wonka himself, discernable only by his top hat and nothing else, who ushered the guests inside.

As we were guided to the entrance, we were met with the googly-eyed, blue-haired Oompa Loompa, who was managing a slapdash, DIY lab that included a few lab tubes and tools which he described in gibberish, as well as a ginormous bong that the Oompa Loompa referred to as Mr Wonka’s “personal meditation device”. As he dabbled with vinegar and liquid nitrogen, attendees were offered free cotton candy imbued with drops of THC by an uncostumed local vendor.

In contrast to direct replicas of the original’s sparse set, from the purple arch to the mushroom stools, the THC cotton candy was one of many new additions scattered throughout the experience, marking a departure from the direct homages to the Glasgow version. In this Los Angeles iteration, gone were the crying children, and in their place were slightly high, happy adults who took in the ridiculousness with a passionfruit mezcal in one hand as they recorded the chaos with their smartphones in the other. Attendees were also offered Modelos and Mexican sodas as well as alcoholic white chocolate thai iced teas with dollops of green whipped cream, a reference to the green hair and orange skin of the Oompa Loompas.

Not only that, but jellybeans were offered in abundance this time around in small paper cups, with some knocking them back like they were shots. The ample amounts of candy were a stark contrast to the original Glasgow experience, where each child was given just one jelly bean as supplies dwindled. A delicious fish taco vendor truck catered the event, and inside there were also themed pastries from a local baker.

In terms of art offerings, you could also watch movies like Alice in Wonderland via tiny reels of film in a tiny cinema on wheels. Los Angeles artist Molly Balloons also arranged a balloon art installation in a technicolour polycule that looked more at home at a Museum of Ice Cream pop-up than at a Willy Wonka spoof. Nonetheless, it was gorgeous to take pictures against, and who was I to resist a photo opp.

The characters remained mostly similar to the original, including the Unknown – the AI-generated character that sparked backlash, confusion, and most of all tears – who whisked around the room in its Death Eater-esque mask and billowing black cloak carrying around a mirror. Meanwhile, Meaghan, a newly AI-generated character specific to the LA event, according to a script obtained by The Independent, warned attendees not to look at him or say his name three times – as if he was the second-coming of Bloody Mary.

As the event wore on, more characters turned up, including two Black actors dressed as Oompa Loompas from a comedy duo named Clowns of Colour, who walked around the room carrying signs demanding “reparations” for their thousands of years of chocolate making. Later on in the night, the pair took the stage to rub chocolate on each other’s faces and dance to Michael Jackson.

Another cast member who showed up later was “Swoly Wonka,” Mr Wonka’s self-described bodyguard, who carried around a large, heavy paddle. He later lost his shirt and stole his boss’s tophat, flexing his biceps that bore the words “Swoly Wonka” in what seemed to be Sharpie.

The self-described bodyguard was played by fitness influencer Thomas Ashman, who would later tell The Independent that he had just driven seven hours from Scottsdale, dead tired, to perform at this event. I’d come to find out that, like many of the performers, he’d been recruited by a friend of a friend, joining the likes of fellow burgeoning actors, many of who have the pedigree of playing characters at Universal’s Halloween Horror Nights.

Multiple crowd goers either attended “for the bit” as fans of the meme or found out about the event through TikTok.

“Today, my roommate found out about the event through TikTok,” an attendee named Mandy said. “We bought tickets immediately.”

Of the experience, she added: “I would have paid a million to be here so I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

A couple named Jesse and Tori were at first more skeptical of the experience, but planned on seeing the experience through. Jesse said: “We’re just going to see how it all unfolds.”

Later on in the night, I approached them as they were grooving to DJ Tipsy’s set, and they noted that the last few acts had definitely won them over. “This is fantastic!” Tori exclaimed.

Keith – who showed up in a cybernetic Daft Punk mask and noted that he was eager to attend after having built a Lego model of the Wonka Glasgow meme – said that the LA event was the next frontier of entertainment.

“This is the new field of s***show tourism as people call it,” he said. “Next thing you know it’s gonna franchise and be gonna be going all around the country, all over the world.”

Despite these creative liberties catering to the predominantly adult crowd – I spotted one child throughout the entire evening – it was clear that event organiser House of Illuminati LA was in earnest intent on paying homage to the improvisational essence of the original. They even flew out the original sad Oompa Loompa, Kirsty Paterson, for the event. Kirsty briefly spoke to The Independent about how the Glasgow event seemingly turned her life upside down.

“I never thought I would become a meme,” she admitted. “I never thought such a rubbish event would end up me becoming a global meme.”

She added that since the event has taken on a life of its own, she’s been on a wild ride.

“It’s a dream come true because I was a struggling actor,” she said. “So for me to actually end up in LA and meeting the people that I’ve been meeting, it’s been completely life changing.”

Throughout the night, Kirsty spoke with attendees, signed autographs and took pictures with them. Shortly after a set by a series of raucous performers – including a standup set about the dangers of AI and drugs from Robert Dayton, music from self-described funk wizard Chaki and a Lynchian DJ set from Tipsy – Kirsty answered any and all questions from the crowd.

“I’m not gonna lie, I actually f***ing love it here,” she said, when asked how she was liking Los Angeles so far. She added that the positivity and energy was vastly different from her experience in Glasgow, later noting that despite how horrible the Glasgow event was, it was nice to be a part of something that sparked joy rather than tears.

A spokesperson for House of Illuminati voiced similar sentiments.

“I think the difference is we’re appealing to the audience that understands this kind of art,” the spokesperson said, noting that the LA event was sold exactly as it was unlike its predecessor. “Everybody knows what they’re expecting.”

They added: “Taking what happened in Glasgow, which upset a lot of people, and flipping that on its head and turning it into a positive thing is a great thing.”

The original experience had been advertised to children and has since been dubbed a scam, eventually becoming a meme in the global cultural zeitgeist. The event leaned into the absurdity of the original, owning the horrendous set design and off-putting AI characters, and milking it for laughs. While some affected by the original event may consider it in poor taste, those who attended the second iteration embraced the hilarity of the chaos, sipping their cocktails as they either watched the actors shout at passersby or kicked about an inflatable eyeball in amusement.

Some dressed up like characters from the original novel like Violet Beauregarde or donned their own twist on Oompa Loompa core. People revelled in the zaniness of the night, marvelling at the latest oddity as it emerged from the woodwork, and indulged in a world full of pure imagination… or at least something loosely resembling it.