As the propaganda and military wars against the Capitol rage on, Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence) stands as the Mockingjay, the symbol for the revolution after her survival in two successive gladiatorial Hunger Games. Katniss, resistant to the manipulations of rebel leader President Coin (Julianne Moore), finds that her friend Peeta Mellark (Josh Hutcherson) has been brainwashed by the nefarious President Snow (Donald Sutherland), and she embarks on a mission to kill the man who has ruined their lives.
I don’t think it’s hyperbole to say that Hunger Games has been the spiritual successor to Harry Potter in ways that I don’t think Twilight or Divergent ever were. All managed to grab more or less the same demographic by the ears, but only Hunger Games plumbed the same depth of ideas that JK Rowling’s wizarding saga did. (And I’m aware that all but one of them pulled the split-the-last-film-in-two move, as well.) There have been moments like these throughout the franchise, but it’s especially prevalent in Mockingjay that I sat back and realized, “Wow, this is really weighty stuff” – and it’s handled quite deftly and smartly. Questions of war, power, and the power of the image pervade Mockingjay to great effect, and the filmmakers wisely reject any simplification of the novels for a film that is purposefully unsettling.
I must continue to heap praise on Jennifer Lawrence, who adds great credibility to the character of Katniss. For an Oscar winner to continue through a young adult franchise without seeming like it’s beneath her is a creditable move that speaks highly of both her character and her performative abilities. None in the cast does any less of a strong job – Sutherland especially seems to be having a grand time in a veritable mustache-twirler of an antagonist – but Lawrence is particularly noteworthy, in large part because her performance sheds light on two key scenes of ambiguity, frustrating in the novel but abundantly more clear in the film (for the benefit of the spoiler-phobic, I’ll be cryptic – the crucial vote, and the novel’s epilogue). We know precisely what Katniss is feeling in those moments because of the way Lawrence takes her pauses, shoots her glances like an arrow.
The film is, I daresay, deliberately anticlimactic, opting for a more poignant commentary on the nature of violence than a reductive “good guys always win” ending, and for that I applaud both the filmmakers and novelist Suzanne Collins for keeping the text smart. But I can’t help but feel that the effect might have been sharper had Mockingjay not been divided – quite arbitrarily, mind you – in two. Part 1 ends a scene after a cliffhanger reminiscent of the old Batman television show – “Will Katniss Everdeen save her friend? Or will the nefarious President Snow win his war? Tune in next November...” – as if to ameliorate the shock of an abrupt ending; Part 1 tells us Katniss will survive into the next film, but it’s a move that distracts from the fact that the film is bait-and-switching us into returning for another installment.
It’d be fine if each film had its own identity, its own logical starting and stopping point. For a while it seems like that’ll happen – Part 1 seems largely focused on the propaganda filmmaking and the power of the Mockingjay as an image, where Part 2 is the more action-oriented – but the division is, as I’ve said, largely arbitrary, at roughly a midpoint in runtime. The truth of the matter is that Katniss’s move from symbol to soldier would have been more potent within the boundaries of a singular film. A number of elements would have been stronger – President Snow’s declining health, President Coin’s surrender to ambition, the advisory role of Plutarch Heavensbee (the late Philip Seymour Hoffman) – and it would have been frankly less off-putting than feeling the grab for cash.
I know I’ll likely be eating my words when Avengers: Infinity War arrives in its bifurcated form in 2018 and 2019, respectively, but it’s still possible that that pair will manage to feel like two distinct films rather than padded halves of a whole. As for Mockingjay, however, I strongly believe there’s enough substance to comprise a very powerful 150 minutes rather than two respective two-hour films. It very nearly compromises the integrity of the work, which is both potent and important, though Mockingjay is compelling enough viewing that you only begrudge the protraction a little bit.
The Hunger Games: Mockingjay – Part 2 is rated PG-13 for “intense sequences of violence and action, and for some thematic material.” Part 2 is by far the grimmest of the already grim franchise, with several of your favorite characters meeting unpleasant demises by way of arrows, explosions, and weird sewer mutants. Though the film isn’t particularly bloody, it is almost unbearably despondent in a few scenes.
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