I have yet to read one of the Harry Potter' books and maybe it's high time I did because, based upon the movies made from them, I have a hard time seeing exactly why they're so popular.
To be sure, the first movie (which, like the second, I saw as a chaperone for my young nieces) has a certain low-key charm, as the notion (and presentation) of the Hogwarts School of Wizardry contains enough wow-ee inventiveness to be sufficiently engaging. And, of course, the tried and true theme of the ugly-duckling transformed into a prince (or, closer still, the poor waif plucked from obscurity and ill-treatment to be lead into a life of wonder and personal distinction) that Harry's story represents is a surefire route to the capture of any child's imagination. It is accomplished, too, with sly Dickensian wit that can prove similarly entertaining to adults. As a stand-alone movie (and book, I guess), I can certainly see the appeal of Harry Potter.'
But as a SERIES?? It seems to endlessly repeat itself and its dramatic beats in each succeeding storyline. So, in this third movie we get yet again - an opening glimpse into Harry's home life with the cruel and spiteful Dursleys (whose overstated and unwarranted evil grew tiresome even before their exit from the *first* film); his re-acquaintance with friends Ron and Hermione on the train to Hogwarts; the preparations for the upcoming academic year; the maddeningly brief and perfunctory introduction to each of the whimsical wizardry classes for that year all populated with masterful British actors who get only the most token of screen time; Harry's ongoing (and boring) rivalry with the dreaded Malfoy (whose one-dimensionality bespeaks an artistic laziness); and the entire movie threaded through with an underlying evil and threat (either to Harry, the school in general, or both) which finally erupts into the inevitable rousing (or, would-be rousing) showdown at the end. Frankly, this last always stretches my credulity, as it becomes increasingly clear with each tale that not only is Hogwarts possibly the most dangerous place in the world for Harry to be, but that it is populated by a staff of `expert' wizards who are singularly ineffectual in combating any kind of outside threat. One gets the perverse sense that the school should actually be *run* by Harry and Hermione, rather than developing them from diamond-in-the-rough wunderkinds who only gradually come to expertise in their fledgling magical powers.
Now, don't get me wrong: as a kid, I too was taken with books written in series (starring the likes of Encyclopedia Brown, the Hardy Boys, and the Great Brain) and demanded nothing more from them than that they provide the same types of stories and interactions that I loved so well the first time round. But J.K. Rowling's inflation of her books to near `War and Peace' lengths, as well as her insistence that each one represents a further step in the development of a larger artistic master plan strikes me as so much pretentious piffle. I don't begrudge kids their fun and ANYTHING that promotes reading on such a wide scale is to be cherished and encouraged. But let's call a spade a spade.
And, while we're at it, let's call Rowling a sell-out. If there's ANY work of literary fiction that could stand on its own, without a movie needed to popularize it among the masses, it's Harry Potter' (probably Lord of the Rings' too, but we won't go into that). Frankly, I think the beloved authoress let slip a grand opportunity to stick her tongue out (and finger up) to Hollywood by refusing to allow her books to be adapted into movies. She certainly doesn't need the money, the books don't need the exposure, and it would have provided her young readers a glimpse into true artistic integrity at work: an example that some things *don't* work best when the most money and advertising is thrown at them . . . that sometimes, the inner recesses of your imagination is the best place for beloved characters to reside.
And of course, had she done so, we as moviegoers wouldn't be subjected to productions so overly reverent to their source that the makers live in terror of leaving even the tiniest of details out. Why o why is it important for Potter fans who know everything that's going to happen anyway to be able to see Hollywood's representations of their private fantasies? Why o why is it important for us non-Hogwarts initiates to be force-fed every scene and character from the book in a compressed running time that gives none of it any room to breathe or create any resonance? It's the absolute worst of all worlds, and everybody loses. (Yes, even fans of the books who enjoy the movies because, whether they realize it or not, their own mental pictures of the characters and situations, formed when reading, are being reprogrammed and reconstituted by Hollywood. It's doubtful whether, having seen the movies, even the most die-hard reader can ever picture Harry as anyone other than Daniel Radcliff, or Professor Snape as Alan Rickman, etc.. . . Which maybe wouldn't even be an important point to bring up, except for the fact that the books had clearly done such an EXCELLENT job at capturing young imaginations, all on their ownsome. Now, even that accomplishment becomes suspect.)
But oops, I realize I haven't yet said anything about the newest movie, re-conceived by director Alfonso Cuaron, which has received buckets and buckets full of praise (and, truth be told, was the only reason I went at all). Well, yes, he is a better director than Chris Columbus, and the photography in certain scenes is much more dramatic than anything in the other two, but we're getting into some pretty minute distinctions. It's a Harry Potter' film, and so subject to all the same annoyances and inconsistencies mentioned above. See it if you must - but me, I'm heading for the library . . .
To be sure, the first movie (which, like the second, I saw as a chaperone for my young nieces) has a certain low-key charm, as the notion (and presentation) of the Hogwarts School of Wizardry contains enough wow-ee inventiveness to be sufficiently engaging. And, of course, the tried and true theme of the ugly-duckling transformed into a prince (or, closer still, the poor waif plucked from obscurity and ill-treatment to be lead into a life of wonder and personal distinction) that Harry's story represents is a surefire route to the capture of any child's imagination. It is accomplished, too, with sly Dickensian wit that can prove similarly entertaining to adults. As a stand-alone movie (and book, I guess), I can certainly see the appeal of Harry Potter.'
But as a SERIES?? It seems to endlessly repeat itself and its dramatic beats in each succeeding storyline. So, in this third movie we get yet again - an opening glimpse into Harry's home life with the cruel and spiteful Dursleys (whose overstated and unwarranted evil grew tiresome even before their exit from the *first* film); his re-acquaintance with friends Ron and Hermione on the train to Hogwarts; the preparations for the upcoming academic year; the maddeningly brief and perfunctory introduction to each of the whimsical wizardry classes for that year all populated with masterful British actors who get only the most token of screen time; Harry's ongoing (and boring) rivalry with the dreaded Malfoy (whose one-dimensionality bespeaks an artistic laziness); and the entire movie threaded through with an underlying evil and threat (either to Harry, the school in general, or both) which finally erupts into the inevitable rousing (or, would-be rousing) showdown at the end. Frankly, this last always stretches my credulity, as it becomes increasingly clear with each tale that not only is Hogwarts possibly the most dangerous place in the world for Harry to be, but that it is populated by a staff of `expert' wizards who are singularly ineffectual in combating any kind of outside threat. One gets the perverse sense that the school should actually be *run* by Harry and Hermione, rather than developing them from diamond-in-the-rough wunderkinds who only gradually come to expertise in their fledgling magical powers.
Now, don't get me wrong: as a kid, I too was taken with books written in series (starring the likes of Encyclopedia Brown, the Hardy Boys, and the Great Brain) and demanded nothing more from them than that they provide the same types of stories and interactions that I loved so well the first time round. But J.K. Rowling's inflation of her books to near `War and Peace' lengths, as well as her insistence that each one represents a further step in the development of a larger artistic master plan strikes me as so much pretentious piffle. I don't begrudge kids their fun and ANYTHING that promotes reading on such a wide scale is to be cherished and encouraged. But let's call a spade a spade.
And, while we're at it, let's call Rowling a sell-out. If there's ANY work of literary fiction that could stand on its own, without a movie needed to popularize it among the masses, it's Harry Potter' (probably Lord of the Rings' too, but we won't go into that). Frankly, I think the beloved authoress let slip a grand opportunity to stick her tongue out (and finger up) to Hollywood by refusing to allow her books to be adapted into movies. She certainly doesn't need the money, the books don't need the exposure, and it would have provided her young readers a glimpse into true artistic integrity at work: an example that some things *don't* work best when the most money and advertising is thrown at them . . . that sometimes, the inner recesses of your imagination is the best place for beloved characters to reside.
And of course, had she done so, we as moviegoers wouldn't be subjected to productions so overly reverent to their source that the makers live in terror of leaving even the tiniest of details out. Why o why is it important for Potter fans who know everything that's going to happen anyway to be able to see Hollywood's representations of their private fantasies? Why o why is it important for us non-Hogwarts initiates to be force-fed every scene and character from the book in a compressed running time that gives none of it any room to breathe or create any resonance? It's the absolute worst of all worlds, and everybody loses. (Yes, even fans of the books who enjoy the movies because, whether they realize it or not, their own mental pictures of the characters and situations, formed when reading, are being reprogrammed and reconstituted by Hollywood. It's doubtful whether, having seen the movies, even the most die-hard reader can ever picture Harry as anyone other than Daniel Radcliff, or Professor Snape as Alan Rickman, etc.. . . Which maybe wouldn't even be an important point to bring up, except for the fact that the books had clearly done such an EXCELLENT job at capturing young imaginations, all on their ownsome. Now, even that accomplishment becomes suspect.)
But oops, I realize I haven't yet said anything about the newest movie, re-conceived by director Alfonso Cuaron, which has received buckets and buckets full of praise (and, truth be told, was the only reason I went at all). Well, yes, he is a better director than Chris Columbus, and the photography in certain scenes is much more dramatic than anything in the other two, but we're getting into some pretty minute distinctions. It's a Harry Potter' film, and so subject to all the same annoyances and inconsistencies mentioned above. See it if you must - but me, I'm heading for the library . . .