Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

My rating: *** and 1/2

The aficionado that I am for this scarhead character, the least I could do to remind myself of my fanship is to catch the latest screen adaptation on the first day of its release. And after a very long time indeed, I felt sorry. No need to get impatient yet. If you think I am going to spend the rest of my review slashing the movie to pieces, you couldn’t be more…. oh well read on.

Adapted from what I consider to be the real series defining book (even more definitive reading than the 1st 3 instalments put together)–the action was so fast I was sweating, the pace so frenetic it got me dizzy, and the sequences, scares, surprises, revelations, creatures, magic so crazily yet so intelligently built up for the absolute grand finale that 2 years on and the experience of reading was still fresh by July this year. And then the Half Blood Prince came out. And I re-read parts of Goblet of Fire again to get my facts right

Which meant that I went to the movie with a lot of baggage indeed and this is why I felt sorry for myself as I sat there for 3 hours munching my popcorn away. It was like seeing a thriller when you know the twists, when you know who kills who and who dies in the end. And to make it even worse was the film, yes Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire, itself— a film so amazingly yet so obediently adapted that everytime a well-shot scary sequence came with a “bang” and someone screamed in the theatre, I just sat there like “Oh well, I saw that coming for over 5 minutes now”. And throughout the whole movie, it was all about “Tom Riddle’s house is just as I had imagined”, “Oh no, Cho is nowhere as cute as I’d thought she’d be”, “Dammit, they don’t have house-elves or what”, “Ah, the Dark Mark is scarier than I had thought” “But wasn’t the maze sequence longer?”.

As hard as I would have liked to try, except for the intense climax (an integral twist of which I had conveniently forgotten… to my respite let me add), I couldn’t view it as a first timer. The fact that Goblet of Fire is such a pure action-and-plot oriented enterprise (probably the most in the series) with little attention to characters which had been fleshed out to their max by and till Prisoner of Azkaban, and as I said earlier, the film being such a wonderful adaptation (read translation), didn’t help the cause at all.

So in a way I was envious of all those who had discovered Potter just through the big screen and just sat there going through, I bet, one hell of a joyride. Of course, I have been consoling myself since I came out of the cinema, by remembering those nail-biting 6 or so hours in which I had raced through the book and been through all those motions in the silence of the room. In a way, that kind of un-manipulated thrill can never be competed by the audio-visual manipulation of a movie and also the fact that one is at the mercy of someone else’s vision throughout cannot just be shrugged off.

And thus, with all my justifications which have consoled me to the point where I can stop wincing, stop moaning and start concentrating on what I had come here to write about, let me review the film.

First, the performances. As the exceedingly photogenic and undoubtedly talented trio, Radcliffe, Grint and Watson turn in sparkling performances with not a twitch of confused acting. Thoroughbreds now that they are, this being their fifth year acting in this enterprise, they’ve evidently given every shot of theirs, the very best and have made Harry, Ron and Hermoine as adorable and lively as Rowling’s characters could be. Being not a character oriented film at all, evil regulars like Alan Rickman (Snape) and Tom Felton (Draco) have next to no role here but with the Great Lord Voldemort himself (Ralph Fiennes fiendishly and deliciously playing to the gallery) making his presence, I doubt if you’d care. James and Oliver Phelps are awesome as the ruffly cocky Weasley brothers; then there’s Miranda Richardson who makes the character of Rita Skeeter even bitchier, there’s Jeff Rawle whose cries for his dead son towards the finale stay with you long after the scene’s gone, there’s Brendan Gleeson whose Mad Eye Moody is fabulously over-the-top and finally there’s Stainslav M as the enigmatic Victor Krum who couldn’t be more suitably cast. Michael Gambon, though, as Dumbledore is perhaps a bit too animated sometimes.

The screenplay is a terrific image of the book, and for maximum effect, the flab (ie. Hermoine, her concern for house-elves and her SPEW plus the actual match of the Quidditch World Cup) is completely gotten rid of– to focus solely on the daddy of all the events in the series–the Triwizard Tournament. And though the tasks are shorter and snappier than a purist like me would have liked, the thrill factor is kept high. One thing for which this film would always remain ingrained is the finale—the thrill and the shock value isn’t dampened by any unnecessary editing. The length, the twists and the actual sequence is just right.

The canvas is huuuuuge. CGi splendid. Camerawork exquisite. Which means that sequences like the Dark Mark being conjured, the fire-breathing dragon chasing Harry on the broom, the Merpeople dragging him down with their tentacles and Voldemort emerging from a boiling cauldron are a treat for the senses. The sound design, though functional, could definitely have done with more background score in both action and dialogue sequences. Maybe this was deliberate, but in more than one sequence I felt my eyes were having more fun than my ears. Also, one tends to miss the moving staircases, the talking portraits and strangely enough The Great Hall is deceptively small. There are no special filters used by the look of it, and the film’s canvas carries on the unforgivingly gritty and rough look from Prisoner of Azkaban. Dialogues are fantastic and the humour, tastefully nuanced.

All in all, a remarkable film where my own movie-watching experience was spoiled by being a compulsive reader. But I am sure I am not the only one.

PS: Big thumbs up to Mike Newell. I so badly wish he was directing the sinister and cerebral next one too.

Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince: **** 

As you struggle to hold this decidedly heavy hardback between your fingers, try a different reading position for the nth time, reading every word as Harry and Dumbledore wait for a boat to emerge from murky waters of an accursed cave, you chuckle to yourself the way you enjoy these childlike thrills. The book reminds you of your early teenage years when Goosebumps, Star Wars and other umpteen alien-invasion books when every page held your breath, when you wished you didn’t have to read the next page and yet couldn’t sleep reading it, and the next, and then one more. Undiluted, unadulterated thrill, with zero indulgence and hundred percent action. In a world of verbosity and prolixity, its just this skill of Rowling—her ability to entertain continuously for the six or so hours—that makes every Potter-maniac above 18 years defend the series with “Its not a kids book.” With the Half Blood Prince, Rowling makes a comeback and shows why she deserves every penny of the 24 million pounds she earned on the book’s first day of release.

Chronicling Potter’s sixth year in the magical world and Hogwarts, the book starts off on a very strange note—the British Prime Minister worrying over improbable, untimely catastrophes in his country till the Ministry of Magic Apparates and informs that it’s the magic world interfering with the real world—A chilling premise which is left like that as the spotlight moves to Harry, who is being fetched by Dumbledore from his Privet Drive to convince a new teacher, Slughorn to commence teaching again at Hogwarts. Of course, the atmosphere is darker than ever at the Wizarding School what with children getting randomly cursed by touching necklaces, drinking potions and Draco Malfoy disappearing for most of the term time into the Unknowable Room. Harry’s got lessons with Dumbledore, and to keep him even more occupied are Ron-Hermoine cock fights, his new captaincy of Gryffindor’s Quidditch Team, his dilemma over his fresh crush on Ron’s sister Ginny and an unknown male calling himself the “Half-Blood Prince” whose scribbles and notes on an old Potions book have escalated Harry’s knowledge of jinxes, hexes and curses like never before. Exactly who is he? Is Malfoy really upto something big or is it Harry imagining? Will Voldemort strike this year? Read the book to find out

Arguably, what makes the Half Blood Prince the most momentous and important book in the whole series is the amount of talk that takes place between Dumbledore and Harry in the numerous lessons that Harry has with the Headmaster. Everytime Dumbledore empties a memory into his Pensieve and everytime both him and Harry jump headlong into this memory sink, we get a breathtaking account of the book’s main antagonist, Voldemort’s past and the book’s graph soars to an all-time high. Right from his innate magical skills, his ancestory, his naming, the troubled times of his parents and most of all his time as a student of (hold your breath) Dumbledore are to be read to be believed. Layer by layer, as Rowling’s crisp writing and gripping narrative peels off the hitherto well-shielded Voldemort’s past, the whole series gets a newfound depth and understanding.

Even otherwise, the way the book keeps developing the already-established characters, especially Potter himself, is amazing. The slow but definite growth that Harry shows with his uninhibited spouting Voldemort’s name, uttering curses, understanding his relationship with Ron and Hermoine and most of all, an understanding of himself as the prime hero is a welcome relief from the peckish and confused teenager he’s been for the last 2-3 books. Meanwhile, the author knows that the only way Ron can be different is by being dumb and the only way Hermoine can still be distinguished from a barrage of similar aged females like Luna Lovegood, Ginny, Lavender Brown, Katie Bell, Parvati Patil is how much time she spends in the library and how quickly she raises her hand everytime a question is asked in a lesson. Predictable though it might be, the camaraderie between the lead triplet still retains its ingenuity and spontaneity that’s been synonymous with it in the past. Joining the feel-good brigade are the Weasley brothers and surprisingly Hagrid, whose “summat” and “yer” and “ter” and concern for Magical Creatures is nowhere as boring as his obnoxious tale in the last book.

With every new installation comes the expectation of new characters and newer magic and though this talk-heavy book gives us precious little in terms of both, whatever little that makes it to the pages lingers long after you have read the last line—namely the Felix Felicis (luck-enhancing) potion, Horcruxes (the darkest of all curses) and the numerous other ones which Harry has fun trying thanks to the scribbles of the Half Blood Prince. For a change, there’s blood too—the curses slash skin deep, the maledicted doorways require even the most able of wizards to slit through their wrists and let the blood spurt to open them and a fair amount of peril too with not-so-subtle references to soul-splitting, exorcism, dead bodies wringing to life, women being physically abused and Rowling’s penchant to make the series darker is alone enough to give it an above 12 certificate.

Of course there are some hiccoughs too in the narrative and the most audible one is that the series has aged. And however much Rowling hides it in the thrills and chills, there are sections where you really wish to be over soon. Like Harry’s stay at the Dursleys, or his customary visit to the Burrow, or him boarding the Hogwarts Express and having a duel or an argument with Draco—it gives a strong feeling of having been-there-seen-that and it irritates you even more when you are aching to complete the book within a day and these “regular” chapters keep popping up and dividing your attention span. Though Quidditch matches have been reasonably truncated now to brief 3-4 page affairs with fairly entertaining commentaries, the book does hit a low every time Professor Slughorn throws a party for his favourites or everytime Neville Longbottom gets a charm wrong.

From the plot’s point of view, the assassination of one of the most lovable characters of the book is rather implausible considering his ace intelligence and ultra fine tuned perception. Also, the consequent climactic duel proves that the “good” namely the Hogwarts’ Professors and the Ministry are so woefully weak that a mere group of Death eaters leave them all tattered, battered and decidedly defeated. Its only now that one wonders whether the “increased” security, the school’s highly charmed outer shield, the Secrecy Sensors and most of all, the exceptionally well trained and learned Professors are anything more than useless twaddle.

Of course one tends to overlook the flaws when the book’s so written. Free of the unnecessary fat that so plagued the Order of the Phoenix, the writing is sharp, incisive, very British (for proof count the craps and innits and summats) and thoroughly enjoyable. From jinxing to teenage crushes, from Potter Apparating to Potter mourning, from the confines of Harry’s room at Dursleys to the vastness of the accursed caves and towers—the words, the expressions and the descriptions seldom miss their effect. There’s less effort gone into creating an atmosphere, and understandably so—being sixth in the series the book’s teeming with the outlandish-comic magical terminology its so easily inherited from its five predecessors which Rowling doesn’t have time to explain, and besides this reason, the fact that there are some crucial points which link to The Chamber of Secrets and Goblet of Fire, make sure you have read both of them before coming anywhere near this one.

With this rather dark and dispiriting, not ultimately gratifying (being the penultimate) yet excellent sixth book, Rowling makes sure that her bizarre “created” world of wizards loses none of its believability and to an extent, originality. The book shouts for a sequel—so much so that it makes you wonder why she didn’t just stick 300 more pages to it and finish it for once. Hence, the need of the hour is a quick release of the series finale lest she wants us, Pottermaniacs, to still love and feel for the Scarhead as we have been doing for years.

To all those still sitting there, gaping at the screen wondering what I have been talking about-just get your lazy ass up and read the series NOW!

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (2004): *** and 1/2

Scrape off the glistening goldens to reveal the slinky silvers; splash the cheerful sky-blues with buckets of black and let the fierce fans slap the hair of the three adolescents way back. (Before you start scratching your uncombed hair, this was basically my imagination as I stood outside the theatre, pondering that if this dead-on target promotion doesn’t give way the mood of the film, wonder what does!)

Not long before you have made yourself comfortable, the action jumpstarts with a wine-glass exploding in Aunt Marge?s hand as she points her immediately provoking words at Potter ( ’’It’s one of the basic rules of breeding. You see it all the time with dogs. If there’s something wrong with the bitch, there’ll be something wrong with the pup’’ ). Of course she hasn’t yet realised that Potter?s thirteen and expecting him to be mum is like keeping a soap-bubble

from bursting. Wailing and hurt, the anguished Potter stomps out of his tormenting family, not before he has ballooned away Aunt Marge, only to find himself squeezing against the windows of the Knight bus which snakes, shrinks, expands, brakes at hilariously high speeds through the already squeezed London roads.

On reaching the Leaky Cauldron, he isn?t as much amused by him being escaped-of the dreary consequences for using magic in muggle-land as he is by a prisoner who?s escaped the dreary confines of the prison of Azkaban. Known as Sirius Black, common lore has it that it was Black who sold off Potter?s parents to Lord Voldemort and that he?s broken away from Azkaban to finish off what he left?Harry Potter, which surely isn?t the best news for young Potter to start his third year at Hogwarts. And so unfolds Potter?s quest into his past with two more threads?one of his whippy smart buddy, Hermoine Granger?s inconsistent presence and another, of an execution of a innocent magical creature?both masterfully sewn in to lead to a hugely satiating climax.

Unlike its formulaic predecessors, the third Potter book was both denser and more character-and-dialogue driven and the new-found complexity and dexterity in the screen adaptation is certainly not going to draw in mad-after-hot-wheels-n-barbies youngsters in the same way as the last two films did. But Cuaron and Warner Bros. don’t seem to care. Neither do I, for what I got was two hours of slickly-shot, intelligently-mounted wizard-thriller which might have somewhat failed to bring out the emotional nuances and undercurrents of its printed sibling in the hush-hush of stuffing in everything the book had to offer, but still ended up way more edgier, and way more enjoyable than the last two films put together.

M uch oblivious of the absence of series’ main villian, Lord Voldemort, the film in its first hour tries to grip with the quandaries and allays of Hogwarts, with some success but as it transmogrifies into a freewheeling thriller in the second half, the effect is numbing. For the purists, there’s little to be zonked about and much to be cribbed about as even though the proceedings entertain, the much-needed ingredients to transport the viewer are mostly non-existent in the first half. For starters, the Quidditch (the much deservably famous game-on-broomsticks) which is the flesh, bone and blood of the whole series and particularly this very book (which had not one but three thoroughly enjoyable matches) finds a disgracefully restrained 5-minute entry on-screen.
 
Moreover, the Potter-Lupin conversations seem more to be dropped into the smooth narrative as an afterthought, which besides padding the hugely enjoyable Hogwarts antics, also poison the main point of the story (Potter’s questionable past) to some extent. However, the film resurrects itself tremendously in the second half, both in the quality and the speed in execution of the mysterious element which goes into a freewheeling Hitchcock-sque mode. And Cuaron is hugely helped by his consistent cast and crew.

Since its impossible to now imagine Potter, Weasley and Granger without thinking about Radcliffe, Grint and Watson, for most part one takes them for granted and expect them to just ’’deliver the lines’’. But here, save for Grint, Radcliffe and Watson surprisingly do conjure up performances that make their respective characters both believable and tremendously enjoyable. While Watson’s tone and body language has smoothened with her equally ironed tresses, one can’t miss the dormant angst and fury of Potter in Radcliffe’s eyes. The boy’s also surprisingly composed in the scenes where he’s asked to stretch his vocal-cords just that much more (which is more than thrice).

Even David Thewlis and Gary Oldman turn in such sincere performances as Professor Lupin and Sirius Black, its hard to imagine them outside the characters they play. Replacing Late Richard Harris, Michael Gambon as Dumbledore is just as efficient, if not as enigmatic while Alan Rickman carries on the histrionics as the stern Severus Snape with the same lucidity as he started (and yes I wasn’t the only one rolling over the aisle with laughter as Rickman found himself in Longbottom’s granny’s dress). While the rest of the cast also turn in commendable performances, they are terribly restricted by the editor’s scissors, and thus the effect of regular characters (including that of Hagrid, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Trelawney) and their interactions with Harry is quite blunted.

The production designer seems to be the most overworked here, as the film ’’feels’’ different right from the first shot– be it the visibly more sinsiter confines of Hogwarts or the gloomy thunder-storms, rain-clouds, snow and sleet which fill up every available screen pixel, the eerie ’’feel’’ is actually instrumental in giving the film it’s grip. The outlandish costumes are also thankfully missing for most part and the meticulously brought-to-life monstrous creatures like boggarts, dementors, werewolf and the hippogriff come across very convincingly, as do the amazingly well thought out Marauder’s Map and the Time Turner which are sure to make anyone’s jaws drop.

The acoustics are also stupendous and coupled with some fantastic cinematography, watching Harry perform the Patronus charm is as nail-biting as watching the Dementors sucking glee. The dialogues, particularly in crucial conversations, are devoid of any sentimenatlity whatsoever, and as pointed earlier, the director doesn’t seem as emotionally convicted as Columbus. However, the regular sprinklings of much-needed humour was much welcome, and prevented the film to be too dark or morose internally.

All-in-all, an extremely well-made film that is somewhat scarred by its low emotional quotient (both when viewed in its entirety and when compared to the book) which make it more apt to be flowered with adjectives like ’’dark’’, ’’edgy’’, ’’gripping’’, ’’mature’’, ’’visual treat’’, ’’scary’’… rather than ’’touching’’ or ’’poignant’’. Obviously crippled by the screen-time, Cuaron’s characters aren’t as wholly fleshed (though they aren’t pulse-less) to provoke immediate fanship from the uninitiated or even the die-hard Potter fans, but he more than makes it up by raising the bar of entertainment a few inches further in this film with its gripping content. Or probably this compliment is more for Rowling.

Whoever its for; at the end of the day, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban entertains all thanks to the neck-snapping second half, jaw-dropping visuals and refreshing performances