A lot of people lost their skepticism about the potential for blockbusters to be imaginative, first class art last summer, with the arrival of Christopher Nolan’s Inception. If I had been old enough to appreciate it at the time, my moment would have been six years earlier, when Warner Brothers took the bold move of appointing a little known but ingenious Mexican auteur, maker of the raunchy Y Tu Mamá También, to direct the third installment of their mechanical money-making Harry Potter franchise. I don’t think any of the subsequent episodes have reached the heights of Cuarón’s achievement in The Prisoner of Azkaban, but with the exception of the embarassingly casual Deathly Hallows Part 1, all have undoubtedly benefited from his injection of a sinister side to complement the joyful aspects of the world of magic. He permanently darkened the series’ visual tone no end, whilst still retaining the fun and fantasy we loved Rowling’s books for. Yet the story’s finale, dominated by the battle to defeat Lord Voldemort, hardly leaves much room for laughs. Yates was wise to look back to Cuarón’s work for guidance; when it has come to carving out a feeling of dread in this family-friendly franchise, Cuarón’s portrayal of the Death Eaters has been unparalleled. Azkaban should go down as the finest film in the series.
Jacob Williamson on Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
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I have long been an advocate of The Order of the Phoenix as the best Potter novel; I was cheered to discover that the fifth film was its equal in spirit. It’s in this film that the loyal audience must quickly grow up, and is forced to acknowledge that what started as a quirky Dickensian magical and heroic world may be harbouring taint, perversion, and loss. Here the film that separates the two worlds — magical and non-magical — is split and mixed. A violent temper, emotional unsteadiness, a sense of estrangement, and growing paranoia set the emotional tone for the film, which centres on a character slowly becoming possessed, and simultaneously undergoing the worst of puberty. Thus introducing the film’s best and most mockable line: ‘I feel so ANGRY ALL the TIME.’
At a running time of 138 minutes, The Order of the Phoenix is shorter than its predecessors, and, for being the biggest book in print, pedantic fans may complain at the omissions. But David Yates succeeds in capturing the brooding mood of the book, and sensitively translates Harry’s internal warring between good and evil. Though the cinematography is showy (especially in the climaxing skirmish in the Ministry of Magic), Nicholas Hooper’s scoring of the film deserves praise. Hooper uses the obligatory John Williams’ theme but introduces a buoyant and thumping melody for the Order’s broom journey to Grimmauld Place, a delicate chimed and slowly unfurling theme for Harry’s moment with Cho, and a moving counterpointed string piece (‘Possession’) for Harry’s ordeal in the Ministry which Hooper conducted himself.
The Order of the Phoenix also introduces Rowling’s best villain (Voldemort is as un-scary as a puppet demon): Dolores Umbridge. Umbridge is a squat, pink-and-kitten encrusted bureaucratic witch with a glottal tick and a lust for making boys cut themselves. Never has detention been so dark. And to crown it off, Harry’s cut off his mane, and, looking fanciable, gets his first kiss.
Christy Edwall on Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix
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‘Mummy, look! She conjured a Warner Bros sign!’ Embarrassingly, I owe this somewhat harsh reality check to the child sitting next to me at the local Odeon. Helena Bonham-Carter opens the final Harry Potter film with a swish of her wand, producing that WB emblem so definitive of the perpetual void between Rowling’s wonderful books and the less-than-wonderful Potter ‘movies’.
The seven Harry Potter books provided so much more than just the cinematic presentation of a magical world. I felt like I had been let in on a secret that no-one else knew about. Yes, Harry Potter was Rowling’s, but Rowling’s ownership of the books and any apparent concrete ‘meaning’ ceased upon publication.
Most importantly, the Potter films were just too cheesy. Allow me to refer you to the infamous ‘Tent-Dancing Scene’ of the penultimate film — the moment at which Harry and Hermione decide to abandon their worries about a fallen magical world, in order to indulge in a spot of foxtrot. Both unnecessary and, more importantly, absent in the book . I nearly had to reach for the nearest Horcrux to vomit into.
The films were good. Great, even. The special effects and star-studded cast were brilliant. However, Rowling inspired her readers to establish their own magical world, using her language and their imaginations. The subsequent films are too ambitious. They occupy both Rowling’s and her readers’ roles, denying Potter fans the opportunity to imagine what their time at Hogwarts will really be like.
Harriet Clarfelt
