In the interests of placing my cards on the table, I have not read any of the books, nor have I in fact seen all of the films. I suppose that is sort of part of my point. Whilst it would be easy to dismiss my observations on the basis that I haven’t formed a wholly informed opinion, or haven’t given the franchise a decent chance to affect me, surely the fact that I can’t be bothered to see Half Blood Prince or Deathly Hallows Part 1 means something? No, not that I have poor taste in films, rather that for some people the franchise just is not that engaging.
Each successive film has been trumpeted with the “this one’s much darker” fanfare, which is all well and good, but does not really make any difference to the fundamental appeal of the films. I remember sitting down to watch Prisoner of Azkaban, assured that a fresh pair of directorial hands (the acclaimed Alfonso Cuarón of Y Tu Mamá También and Children of Men fame) was going to inject some much needed flair into the franchise, after Chris Columbus’s workmanlike efforts. What I was left with at the end was 2+ hours of “someone has escaped prison and is after Harry, actually he’s a goody, let’s do a bit of time-travel”. I ask you. What an uneventful waste of time. Perhaps if I were of a different age and had been captivated and enchanted by the books, or wonder-struck by the world of Hogwarts as evocatively presented in the first film, it might have all been very different.
But alas it has not. We have had some of the very best of the world’s acting talent on show in the course of HP1-7 (Gary Oldman, Richard Harris, Michael Gambon, Helena Bonham-Carter, Alan Rickman, Kenneth Branagh, Emma Thompson, Timothy Spall, Jason Isaacs, Ralph Fiennes, Jim Broadbent, Brendan Gleeson, John Hurt) and some genuinely accomplished directors have held the reins too, but the three principals have never been up to scratch and the effect has been obvious and jarring. Long ago, a review of one of the earlier films rightly decried the inability of the screen-writers to turn JK Rowling’s three-term book structures into conventional, fluid three-act film structures. Too often the screenplays have simply progressed through the narratives of the books, covering the right ground, but failing (or refusing) to make difficult or daring decisions in the way the best novel adaptations have (LA Confidential, Lord of the Rings, anything based on the work of Raymond Chandler) and the results have been painfully ordinary.
I am sure multitudes out there will disagree. Heck, I can think of a couple of the writers for this site who are not going to agree with me at all, but there has just been nothing in this franchise that has remotely excited me. It’s all been very serviceable, very predictable, when the films ought to be scintillating, electrifying. Now admittedly, the trailer for HP7 PtII looks outstanding – epic, thrilling, barn-storming – maybe it will the darkest and best yet, but frankly we’ve all seen enough thrilling trailers for duff films to last us a lifetime. Remember Pt I looked ace, then most of the critics went “meh”.
I recognise of course that the world is full of films on which many sensible-thinking people have held wildly divergent opinions. What I find interesting is that the HP franchise is such a juggernaut, such a massive hit with so many and so fascinating for so many and yet, despite me being what I would consider to be a devoted and heart-felt film fan, I have remained utterly impervious to its charms. It’s clearly not to do with its genre, as I have deep, abiding love for the Lord of the Rings films, nor is it on account of the youthful cast. The Goonies and Bugsy Malone number among my favourite child-populated films, so I haven’t got it in for child stars. So what is it? Why don’t I care about HP?
All (polite and well-mannered) suggestions would be gratefully received below.
I imagine it’s the same theory as watching, say, Lost – if you’re immersed in the world and love the characters then you’re perfectly willing (or know enough backstory) to overlook any faults that more casual viewers might flag up. The HP movies have definitely gotten more tiresome as they’ve gone on, but for a generation of kids and literary-challenged adults, they’re a wonderfully well realised vision of what they have in their heads.
There was a point in the last one where an elf or something had died, and it was making a passionate speech about freedom when I suddenly stepped outside my body and looked down upon myself – a 33 year old father watching a film about wizards, and not a very good one too – and I’ve rarely been more ashamed. Despite that, and despite the plodding mediocrity of the last 2 films, I’ll still go and watch the final one – just for completions sake.
I won’t watch it in 3D though – I’m not that much of a fool. 😀
Great article, and as someone who feels precisely the same about Transformers, Batman, Twilight and Judd Apatow I can certainly relate to the perplexed indifference felt as the auditorium around you ooh’s and aah’s on cue.
For me the Harry Potter franchise is about friendship, about a romanticized view of teenage camaraderie that is as much a part of the escapism as the oh-so blessed hours at Hogwarts. It is a friendship that has never quite been done justice – either by the books or the film franchise – but as the series has gone on it’s overcome everything from limited literary skill to unremarkable acting ability to hit an emotional truth far stronger than any Horcrux.
On another level it is a beautifully told tale of coming-of-age, good and evil and teenage heroism. Boasting a cast of memorable characters and a welcome dose of the fantastic, the mythology is as enthralling as anything Hollywood has to offer – as immersive as character-based television series such as Buffy to Lost; the story never bogged down with the burdensome scale of Lord of the Rings or the suffocating insipidness of the Twilight films. The wand fights are exciting, the ignorance of muggle culture charming and the faux gravity of it all terrifically captivating.
It’s a comfort franchise, one you can return to every year just in time for Christmas to watch Ron Weasley scoff at his yuletide sweater. Through six years of quiet repetition it has become a comfortably familiar and dependable setting for sturdy – if not particularly revelatory – stories of childhood trauma: whether besting trolls or asking girls to the school dance.
The reason that the final two installments haven’t crumbled under their own hype (I’d revoke meh in favour of a more complimentary view of Part 1 – for the impromptu dance sequence alone) of it all is that the franchise has earnt it. Beaten to the Oscars by Lord of the Rings and decidedly modest in its own British way, the series has been biding its time. Shit is about to hit the fan and it really is worth catching up to speed so that you can ride this particular moving staircase to the end.
Great article, and as someone who feels precisely the same about Transformers, Batman, Twilight and Judd Apatow I can certainly relate to the perplexed indifference felt as the auditorium around you ooh’s and aah’s on cue.
For me the Harry Potter franchise is about friendship, about a romanticized view of teenage camaraderie that is as much a part of the escapism as the oh-so blessed hours at Hogwarts. It is a friendship that has never quite been done justice – either by the books or the film franchise – but as the series has gone on it’s overcome everything from limited literary skill to unremarkable acting ability to hit an emotional truth far stronger than any Horcrux.
On another level it is a beautifully told tale of coming-of-age, good and evil and teenage heroism. Boasting a cast of memorable characters and a welcome dose of the fantastic, the mythology is as enthralling as anything Hollywood has to offer – as immersive as character-based television series such as Buffy to Lost; the story never bogged down with the burdensome scale of Lord of the Rings or the suffocating insipidness of the Twilight films. The wand fights are exciting, the ignorance of muggle culture charming and the faux gravity of it all terrifically captivating.
It’s a comfort franchise, one you can return to every year just in time for Christmas to watch Ron Weasley scoff at his yuletide sweater. Through six years of quiet repetition it has become a comfortably familiar and dependable setting for sturdy – if not particularly revelatory – stories of childhood trauma: whether besting trolls or asking girls to the school dance.
The reason that the final two installments haven’t crumbled under their own hype (I’d revoke meh in favour of a more complimentary view of Part 1 – for the impromptu dance sequence alone) of it all is that the franchise has earnt it. Beaten to the Oscars by Lord of the Rings and decidedly modest in its own British way, the series has been biding its time. Shit is about to hit the fan and it really is worth catching up to speed so that you can ride this particular moving staircase to the end.
I think some critics will take the contrarian viewpoint towards a film or novel that has so much praise heaped on it that it’s difficult to come up with anything original on the positive side, and it requires neither moral courage nor keen insight.