As we have a few more days of watching spooky movies, I thought it appropriate to publish here some more alternative Halloween film fare. A version of this article originally appeared on my first blog and was published in the book Everyone Else is Wrong (And You Know It).
J. K. Rowling’s book series may or may not have sparked an interest in reading throughout the world, but it certainly gave us a myth for our time and the resulting film series made more than seven billion dollars. The films (more so than the books) have caused controversy among fans and film people because whether they held to the books too closely (the first two) or had to muck about (Half-Blood Prince and others), it was damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Still, it was worth it. This quick trek goes through each film briskly with my thoughts.
Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (2001)
Stupidly re-titled the Sorcerer’s Stone in the U. S. and some other English-speaking countries, the first film, directed by Chris Columbus and scripted by Steve Kloves, is better than you remember it—perhaps not the “classic” Ebert called it, but what other film could’ve been made from the first book? First books in series this long are introductions. The fact that the plot is secondary (and perhaps too convoluted for a secondary plot) is not the point. The film set about on quite a journey assembling some of the finest acting talent in the United Kingdom and finding at least two future stars in Daniel Radcliffe and Emma Watson.
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (2002)
Okay, Chris Columbus was quite a tepid choice to begin with. The director of Home Alone and Mrs. Doubtfire doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in the minds of film people. Nonetheless, we can at least call Chamber of Secrets Columbus’ best film. Chamber was the first of the films I saw in the theaters and the one that made me fall in love with the world of Harry Potter. I grant you, this is probably the longest children’s movie of all time, but it’s also packed with lots to think about (and talk about), including as good a metaphor for racism as I’ve ever seen in the dichotomy of the mud-blood and pure-blood witches/wizards.
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (2004)
The moment Radcliffe said the words, “I will be” in answer to Lucis Malfoy’s quip at the end of Chamber of Secrets, Radcliffe became an actor. And, at the moment Alfonso Cuarón was made director of the third installment, Harry Potter was helmed by a true film master. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban is a great film, the first in the series to stand on its own. Unfortunately, Richard Harris passed away before being able to continue to play Dumbledore, but from the very first moment he appears onscreen, Michael Gambon is truly magical in the part. This is the first of the films to show us things in the magic world without over-explaining them, so by its very nature, the story is shown, not told—this is what really makes it distinct from the first two—and it has a time travel tale that actually works to boot. The only drawback is that the moment the Hogwarts students start wearing jeans and contemporary clothing, the films become dated. The costumes in the first two were at least preserving an eternality.
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (2005)
The peak of the series’ power lies in the fourth installment—an emotional coaster from the hormonal imbalances of Ron and Hermione to the death of Cedric Diggery. This film is my personal favorite, though I still think the third is stronger overall. The first of the films to be helmed by a British director—Mike Newell (an odd choice for an action film, but inspired)—Goblet of Fire just about has it all, including a most ambitious design in the Quidditch World Cup arena and a painful middle section, where you ride along the fourteen year-old romantic roller coaster. The third film is pure action from start to finish and that’s why I admire it. But, this is the last film of the series to take its time developing character, telling one Hell of a story (the tournament), and showing us a fully developed world with a unifying theme of internationalism (and therefore humanity). The later films almost buckle under the pressure of all they have to convey in one sitting. Goblet is the last of the films adapted from a single tome that can afford to take the time to fill our imaginations with wonder.
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (2007)
The fifth film is a kind of demarcation. The rest of the films would be directed by David Yates and the stories will have less and less of the smiley-wileys. This is the only film not scripted by Steve Kloves; instead, Michael Goldenberg does a fair job though it’s a shame that the films’ lack that symmetry in addition to two Dumbledores. Order of the Phoenix is overshadowed by bureaucracy as shown through the scenes of the Ministry of Magic and Dolores Umbridge. In fact, I would venture to say Umbridge is a perfect representation of the kind of bureaucratic evil exhibtited by public school administrators. Imelda Staunton’s performance is a highlight as is the storytelling device of the newspaper zooms which tidy up a lot of the exposition. Less emotionally powerful than the last film, I still remember breaking into tears when Harry Potter exorcises Voldemort saying, “I feel sorry for you.” The film does have its drawbacks—particularly those in the art department. First of all, you can’t just let Helena Bonham Carter on the set wearing the clothes she always wears (just a joke), but more seriously, why does the centaur in the first film and Dobby in the second film both look better than Grawp, who looks like Alfred E. Neuman? Ah, well.
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (2009)
Every great fantasy epic has one movie that is pure transition. The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers is a great example. It does not stand on its own. This is an important cog in the machine, but it is not satisfying in a sitting. Half-Blood Prince is the only film in the series for which I wrote a full-length review. I wrote, “[u]ltimately what one has to say about Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince is it the only film in the series which I have no desire to go back to the theater and watch one or two more times.” Upon re-watching it, I can’t exactly disagree with my 2009 self. The last half hour is excruciating—you feel terror at Dumbledore’s passing and confusion in Snape’s revelation and the utter chaos brought upon the school by the Death Eaters. I now see the last two scenes (the lit tribute to Dumbledore and the epilogue) as a balm to the audience, although at the time I thought, “That’s the last line? You’ve got to be kidding!” The one qualm I have with my review is that I now feel Order of the Phoenix is a stronger film than I did then. This one is “complete transition.” Of the films, this is the weak link. But, it had to be, didn’t it?
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (2010-2011)
I do not like the trend of making one book into two movies. If Harry Potter were not already a world-wide sensation, this strategy would have been deadly—to the box office, to the criticism, everything. Word to OCD fans: very long books in the hands of capable film people can usually translate well into one movie. One could look at the last two films as distinct but I’m going to look at them as one because if it were, even with the combined length, it would be splendid. If I reviewed the first on its own terms, no matter how much liked it, it’s only a prelude, an overture, a prologue to the real thing. The last two films belong to Ralph Fiennes, who I think may have been born to play Lord Voldemort. Of course, we all knew he was good at playing bad guys. Before he oversaw the Holocaust in the magical world, he was directing it in Nazi-occupied Poland. He permeates the last two movies with enough menace to focus you on exactly what you need to know, making The Deathly Hollows such a more clear-minded experience than the two films that preceded it. But, even though his character brings about much death, the feeling you have as you leave the world of Harry Potter, teary-eyed and smiling uncontrollably, is a feeling of (dare I say it?) life affirmation. One wants to live like the boy who lived—with bravery, courage, and determination to live one’s life with purpose and an open heart.
Pretty good for what started out as a kids’ book, huh?
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