Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (2009)

After something akin to an allergic reaction to Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, I very nearly gave up on this review series. Equal parts uneven and uninteresting, Order seemed decidedly disorderly – a pun I wish I’d thought up last month. Instead, I forged on; I’ve consumed a lot of lackluster media solely in the name of completionism, but fortunately returning director David Yates seems to have learned his lesson with Half-Blood Prince, which is on the whole much more engaging and unified than its predecessor.

Now in his sixth year at Hogwarts, Harry Potter (Daniel Radcliffe) becomes a closer confidante to his headmaster Albus Dumbledore (Michael Gambon), who brings Harry along when incoming Potions professor Horace Slughorn (Jim Broadbent) is hired. Harry soon learns, though, that Slughorn has been hired because he knows valuable information about the dark lord Voldemort. While Harry’s friends Ron (Rupert Grint) and Hermione (Emma Watson) wrestle with their feelings for each other, Harry and Dumbledore pursue the last bit of hidden knowledge needed to defeat Voldemort.

Right off the bat, Yates demonstrates a much stronger command of the visual language of film, establishing in the film’s opening shot the central theme – Dumbledore, having seen firsthand the consequences of keeping Harry in the dark, elects to trust his star pupil. After much of the confusion of Order, wondering what the central throughline was, there’s a pleasant “Aha!” at the beginning of Prince. And indeed, throughout we see Yates communicating silently with his audience, allowing us to glean from the visual that which we need to know. We have very few ponderous monologues or, at the other end of the spectrum, moments of ungraspable speculation; the film tells us what we need to know in a way natural to the medium.

It helps that you have wonderfully expressive yet subtle performances, first by the teenage cast who have really come into their own. Last time I reviewed this film, as a younger man I bemoaned the “angsty teenage romance” that pervades the film. Now that I’m older, wiser, and fresher on the franchise, I see what’s actually happening here is that the actors are (perhaps for the first time) allowed to humanize their characters and give them a few emotions besides stock tropes of “stoic,” “goofy,” and “brainy” (respectively). Furthermore, it’s a treat to see Alan Rickman as Snape and Broadbent’s Slughorn given stretching room for those fine thespians to vivify their characters.

It’s Michael Gambon, surprisingly, who ends up being something of a scene-stealer. Though I’ve never been sold on Gambon as a replacement for the late Richard Harris (I’ve always wondered what Peter O’Toole could have done with the part), he does pretty impressive work with Dumbledore, who’s nowhere near as stern and shouty as he’s been. Instead, we get a pretty close approximation of the Dumbledore from the books, much more contemplative and compassionate, which Gambon layers on as a natural role-reversal from his earlier interpretation of the character. This is the Dumbledore I wish we’d gotten all along, but in light of the way this film ends (I’m being cautiously vague, even though I’m sure this “spoiler” is right up there with Rosebud in terms of a statute of limitations) it’s a much more sobered and thoughtful performance than we might have been led to expect.

The film is overall more focused than the last one, and even though the book split its attention between flashbacks and present-day movement toward the seventh book, the film finds a much more confident identity in its present, giving Harry something very tangible for which to fight while deepening the mythology of the universe. Even the last-minute cliffhanger of sorts, which teases the narrative center of the final film(s), ties into the main theme of friendship and trust (which, actually, links up with the major twist of this film as well). What you have, then, is a much better organized Harry Potter film in which each element is deeply integrated into the main storyline and theme. It is, in short, a much more successful penultimate feature film than I’d presumed possible from Yates. Half-Blood Prince is a full-blood success.

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince is rated PG for “scary images, some violence, language and mild sensuality.” Spells and their occasionally bloody after-effects, as well as a few creepy creatures and a looming sense of peril at every turn (including one spectacular jump moment near the film's climax), could be objectionable as far as "scary images [and] some violence" are concerned. The snogging in this film ("mild sensuality") isn't much to write home about, though it dominates a lot of the main characters' focus.

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (2007)

With three directors over the course of four films, the one thing the Harry Potter films haven’t had is visual continuity. Which is fine, don’t get me wrong – the thing I really appreciate about the films is how they render the same world from different vantage points. With Order of the Phoenix, director David Yates climbs aboard the Hogwarts Express, and he’ll be with us for the rest of the journey (four films down, four to go). And while we’ll have consistency of vision, I’m not terrifically excited by that because Order of the Phoenix is my least favorite Harry Potter film – not just by dint of comparison, but because I’m genuinely underwhelmed by this one.

Though the wizarding world carries on in a state of denial, Harry Potter (Daniel Radcliffe) knows the truth – the dark lord Voldemort (Ralph Fiennes) has returned. The Ministry of Magic installs the stern Dolores Umbridge (Imelda Staunton) at Hogwarts, amid the vehement disapproval of headmaster Albus Dumbledore (Michael Gambon), and Harry is elected to supplement the education of his fellow students with some practical Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons.

The older I get, I seem to have less patience for the old argument “the book was better.” It seems there’s a latent old media prejudice in there, for a film can be as thoughtful as a book (albeit in a different way). And so I don’t lament the excision of particular subplots; indeed, I didn’t notice the film had cut Quidditch until it was pointed out to me. What I do lament is the excision of depth. J.K. Rowling’s prose style is very smart, very contemplative, giving us a very powerful omniscient narrator who can tell us quite a bit about the characters and their motivations.

On film, however, Yates doesn’t seem able to capture that narrative depth. Instead, we have a lot of characters, including many new ones, who all seem terribly interesting but who don’t have the opportunity on screen to prove it. Take for example the titular Order of the Phoenix, a collection of powerful witches and wizards who hide out in a magical house doing... well, it’s not actually that clear. It’s obvious to the readers of the book, and that’s a problem, because the film and the book ought to be tangentially complementary experiences. There are so many intriguing characters in the order – the werewolf Remus Lupin, back from Prisoner of Azkaban; his shape-changing paramour Nymphadora Tonks, and the criminally underused Gary Oldman in his third role as Sirius Black.  But the film touches these only briefly, and moviegoers may find themselves wondering why book-readers have grown so attached to characters who appear on screen with minimal weight.

Yates, it seems, is not terribly interested in the Order, even if I am. What intrigues him more about the plot is its political statements about governance in a time of fear and the place of centralized authority in education. These are weighty issues, and Order of the Phoenix is the most political of the Harry Potter movies because of them. The analogy to Neville Chamberlain is perhaps less obvious to American audiences, but it’s quite clear that Yates dismisses the right of any government to interfere in a student’s education, and he does so with the wonderful casting of Imelda Staunton. As Professor Umbridge, Staunton is delightfully detestable and a fine adversary for Harry and his friends. Though she never rises to the level of Voldemort in terms of pure evil or clear motivations (other than reveling in literally torturing her students), she’s a fine fill-in while the Dark Lord schemes off-screen.

Order of the Phoenix introduces two more new characters, Ravenclaw classmate Luna Lovegood (Evanna Lynch) and mad mass murderess Bellatrix Lestrange (Helena Bonham Carter). Of the latter, little need be said – if ever perfect casting existed, it’s HBC as a killer lunatic with Tim Burton’s hair. Lynch’s Luna, though, is the real find of the film, enchanting in a deliriously dreamy sort of way. Sadly, the film doesn’t give her much of an arc (nor does the franchise, as I recall), but her scenes with Radcliffe are so good, the chemistry between them so strong as the two bond over the losses they’ve endured, that I believe – and here I’m about to say something book readers will judge heretical – the films should have departed from the books and had Harry end up with Luna and not Ginny Weasley, who’s been undercooked since Chamber of Secrets.

At the end of the day, a disappointing Harry Potter movie is still a step more interesting than a lot of what’s out there. Yates has an interesting visual style, and I especially like the way he crafts the Ministry as this austere brick building with inverted colors, illuminated primarily by magic wands. But the storytelling on display in Order of the Phoenix is nowhere near as strong as it’s been in previous installments, and the film does a disservice to most of its characters by narratively shortchanging them. Put another way, Order of the Phoenix treads too much water where it ought to be gliding, losing too much momentum by attempting to tell us what’s important when it ought to be showing us.

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix is rated PG-13 for “sequences of fantasy violence and frightening images.” You have a lot of scenes of wizards silently casting spells, propelling each other across the room, and flying around in smoky forms. One character is killed by magic, while another is tortured.

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (2004)

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, the third of eight films in the Harry Potter series, represents in a lot of ways a changing of the guard:  Alfonso Cuarón takes the directorial reins from Chris Columbus, Michael Gambon assumes the role of Albus Dumbledore, and a general mood of darkness falls over the franchise.  And really, only one of these things is less than ideal, because Azkaban feels the most accomplished of the three Harry Potter films thus far.

Though the wizarding world at large is content to conceal the truth from Harry, Ron, and Hermione (Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson), the recent escape of Sirius Black (Gary Oldman) from the wizard prison Azkaban puts them all in great danger – Black was imprisoned for betraying Harry’s parents and facilitating their deaths at the hands of the dark lord Voldemort. With soul-sucking Dementors prowling Hogwarts in search of the escaped convict, Harry must confront the untold secrets of his past, while new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor Remus Lupin (David Thewlis) teaches him to repel the Dementors.

Cuarón, who struck gold two years ago with the breathtaking Gravity, is perhaps an unlikely choice to take the helm on a major kid-friendly franchise; though well-known at the time for his hard-R Y tu mama también, he had already acquitted himself well with the fantastical The Little Princess (the VHS tape of which still holds fond memories for my sister and me, worn out though it may be). In fact, one might be forgiven for thinking that Azkaban was directed by Tim Burton, for Cuarón replaces Columbus’s austere candlelit corridors with dark and angular shadows, winding passageways, and a color palette more night than day.

It’s a marked difference from the style Columbus worked to cultivate, a style that fit the source material quite well, but I appreciate Cuarón’s decision to innovate visually and take Hogwarts in a moodier direction. It helps the franchise feel less like a kiddy-movie and moves it into a more mature and, I think, more interesting direction. As much as I appreciated it in the first two films, there is only so much wide-eyed wonderment that Harry Potter can be allowed before he grows up and accepts the wizarding world as his new normal. Cuarón’s play with shadows and his modified colors give us the sense of a world being lived-in, being inhabited.

The elephant in the room here is, of course, the recasting of Dumbledore after the unfortunate passing of Richard Harris. It’s important to recognize that Gambon is doing something different with Dumbledore – a more knowing, more wearied headmaster to Harris’s kinder, gentler Dumbledore – but I have to concede that it is not to my liking. I’d have preferred Peter O’Toole inherit the role (as, I understand, Harris’s family lobbied), for there is something about Gambon’s temperament that strikes a false chord for me, something almost perplexingly youthful in a character who shouldn’t be. Gambon isn’t patently bad as Dumbledore, and for that reason the revolt will have to wait for now.

I’d also like to levy a modest complaint about the underuse of the always commendable Gary Oldman, whose turn as Sirius Black amounts to little more than a cameo. This is a minor grievance, a clash of the role’s smallness in the book juxtaposed with the screen presence of Oldman. He is, of course, cast as a guarantee for future films, but one can’t help but wish Prisoner of Azkaban had just a bit more of said prisoner in the film.

These are, though, as I’ve said, small nits to pick in a film which is otherwise highly enjoyable. My personal favorite of the series (at least, on memory – I’ve only seen the next five films once each), Prisoner of Azkaban is well-crafted and engaging, with a central mystery that holds up on rewatch and a visual style that sells the film even without the ever-capable score by John Williams. On the whole, I’m feeling rather good about reviewing the Harry Potter series.

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban is rated PG for “frightening moments, creature violence and mild language.” There are some jump scenes in this one, including an attack from a wolf-like creature and an enormous dog, to say nothing of the appearance of the Dementors (ghostly, soul-devouring prison guards) in a few scenes. The film also includes a hippogriff (half eagle, half horse) which is meant to be gentle once one sees past the gruff exterior, the threat of execution, and an escaped demented prisoner.

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (2009)

Though accusations and worries fly in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince as to whether or not Albus Dumbledore is "asking too much" of those around him, it seems the film isn't; rather, it seems to be doing just right.

Director David Yates [who joined the series with Film #5] continues his streak of adapting J.K. Rowling's wildly popular Harry Potter series with the sixth (and penultimate, taking Deathly Hallows as one entity, though it's being split in two for 2010-11) entry in the franchise. Here, Harry Potter (Daniel Radcliffe) and his maturing buds Ron and Hermione (Rupert Grint & Emma Watson) find themselves embroiled once more in the conflict between the wizarding world and its mortal enemy, Lord Voldemort (an unseen Ralph Fiennes, who appears elsewhere in the series). New potions master Horace Slughorn (an always-effervescent Jim Broadbent) takes up a post at Hogwarts as suspicions loom about shifty Professor Snape (Alan Rickman, effortlessly ominous). But Harry's main focus is taken up by Headmaster Dumbledore (Michael Gambon) and his quest to learn Voldemort's past in order to finally defeat him.

I won't bother with comparisons to the book - other online commentators have nobly taken up that gauntlet (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harry_Potter_and_the_Half-Blood_Prince_(film)#Differences_from_the_book for a fairly comprehensive overview) - mostly because the book was so long ago I can recall only the most significant plot details. Suffice it to say that Yates's adaptation seems to stand on its own as a creative work, indebted to the source material but not slavishly so. Instead, the globe-like burden of carrying the film rests on the Atlas-shoulders of the cast, particularly our three young'uns, who all do an able job of growing into the roles and comfortably becoming the characters. (Watch out for typecasting, kids.) Radcliffe is fine as the lead, oscillating comfortably between dramatic moodiness and comic levity. Grint is a sight as the goofy one of the bunch, looking lovelorn like nobody's business, and Watson might as well be a young Keira Knightley (props to my grandmother for spotting that one) for all the talent she's got. Perhaps the standout in the youth cast - already getting plenty of media attention - is Tom Felton, who as Draco Malfoy is charged with converting his character from a prototypical schoolyard bully into a real potential menace with more demons than Dementors hiding in his closet. He does more brooding in an hour than Christian Bale does on a good day, and he does it well, keeping a terrific air of mystery surrounding his character (for the novel's novices, that is). The adult cast isn't slouching, either; Broadbent is a fantastic pick for favoritism-prone Slughorn, Rickman is glorious as always, and Gambon continues to create his own weighty Dumbledore as distinct from the late Richard Harris's more aloof and endearing one. (It's a shame, though, that the filmmakers didn't choose Peter O'Toole as Harris's replacement.)

That said, the film is, simply put, a little long. At 2.5+ hours, the film can afford to take its time with the mythology surrounding a Horcrux or the backstories of characters like Voldemort or the mysterious "Half-Blood Prince" (whose potions book falls into Harry's hands), but the movie also gets bogged down in a lot of angsty teenage romance, humorously awkward but somewhat gregarious in its omnipresence. It's as if we want to grab the characters by the school-spirit scarves and give them a good shaking until they finally agree to snog [British for "kiss"] the lad or lass of their fancy. (Oh, yes, there's a great deal of snogging and preparing to snog.) Everyone does a fine job eliciting laughs with the awkward situations of teenage adulation - particularly Grint, whose sloppy grin only gets more uneven when he's duped into taking a potent love potion - but there is such a thing as "too much of a good thing."


But the film does fine work with the unspoken. Yates is a master of my favorite cinematic technique: visual language - that is, letting the film speak for itself without clumsy narration or heavyhanded dialogue addressing what's being depicted. Watch carefully as Yates directs Felton into the Room of Requirement and toward a mysterious cabinet; take note of how Yates uses cuts between Felton's expression and the apples and birds he puts into the cabinet, and be sure to pay attention when Yates cuts away from Hogwarts and into a shop in Diagon [or is it Knockturn? I myself can't keep all the mythology straight.] Alley. Without saying a word, the film masterfully tells us everything we need to know. I for one am glad Yates is staying on to finish out the franchise with a two-part adaptation of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, since he's proven here that he can handle weighty source material while still churning out a film that's fun for newcomers.
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince is rated "PG for scary images, some violence, language and mild sensuality." Spells and their occasionally bloody after-effects, as well as a few creepy creatures and a looming sense of peril at every turn (including one spectacular jump moment near the film's climax), could be objectionable as far as "scary images [and] some violence" are concerned. The snogging in this film ("mild sensuality") isn't much to write home about, though it dominates a lot of the main characters' focus.