The Harry Potter Films of David Yates

Posted on June 14, 2013 by badblokebob

Harry Potter and the
Order of the Phoenix
2013 #45a
Original review here.

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Harry Potter and the
Half-Blood Prince
2013 #47a
Original review here.

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Harry Potter and the
Deathly Hallows: Part 1
2013 #48a
Original review here.

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Harry Potter and the
Deathly Hallows: Part 2
2013 #52a
Original review here.

2007-2011 | 568 mins | Blu-ray | 2.40:1 | UK & USA / English | 12 / PG-13

When David Yates joined the Harry Potter series halfway through, as the director of its fifth instalment, his main prior experience was in TV — quite a change from the series’ track record, which had included acclaimed or successful movie directors. But he seemed a wise choice nonetheless: one of his stand-out works on TV was State of Play, a complex conspiracy series that suggested he’d be the right man to handle Order of the Phoenix for two reasons. Firstly, the novel includes a significant ‘resistance thriller’ aspect, similar to the edgy underground-investigation style of State of Play. Secondly, the lengthy novel was to be condensed into a single reasonable-length film, necessitating an ability to tell a story clearly and concisely. State of Play may not have been concise (it’s a six-hour story, after all), but it was complicated and it was clear.

The resulting film is, arguably, one of the series’ strongest because it is so different to the others. If the much-discussed ‘darkening’ of the films really kicked in with Goblet of Fire and the death of Cedric Diggory, Phoenix only cements this tone. Our heroes are persecuted throughout — and not just the lead kids, but Dumbledore and the rest of the Hogwarts establishment too, as a Ministry of Magic in denial about the return of Voldemort seeks to crush the dissenting voices of Harry and his headmaster.

Their main weapon is Dolores Umbridge, perhaps the series’ most despicable villain, because she is so horrendously plausible. She seems to be all sweetness and light, but it masks a dangerous streak that sees her eliminate any fun from the school and, in one of the most sadistic sequences in either the novels or the films, she has Harry write lines with a magic quill that cuts each one into the skin of his left hand. The Potter series actually has its share of nuanced villains, but Umbridge is thoroughly unlikeable. Though she’s defeated and carted off at the end of Phoenix, she resurfaces in Deathly Hallows. I don’t recall if her final fate is expounded upon, on page or screen, but I’d quite like to see her ripped to shreds.

In one of the numerous special features on the Harry Potter Blu-rays, producer David Heyman notes that most directors finish a film of Potter’s scope and want a rest, or at least a change of pace. It’s why Alfonso Cuarón and Mike Newell only have one each to their name; it’s why the Bond films haven’t had two back-to-back entries from the same director since the ’80s; and so on. Not so Yates, however, who ended Phoenix hungry for more. Or hungry to establish a film career, take your pick. And so he also took on the next film, Half-Blood Prince.

It’s easy to accuse Half-Blood Prince of being all prelude to the climactic events of Deathly Hallows; it certainly feels that way first time through. There’s considerably more to it than that, even if the titular mystery is barely a subplot — especially in the film version where, once again, the sheer length of the novel necessitates massive cuts to the source text. But perhaps the most remarkable thing is how funny the film is. Between the return of Voldemort, the suspicion cast on Harry, and a devastating final battle, Phoenix is an incredibly gloomy film; as things roll towards the climax, packed with more deaths and villain victories, Deathly Hallows is too; and sandwiched in between, with one of the saga’s most gut-wrenching finales, you’d think Half-Blood Prince would be more of the same.

But not so. Yates approached his follow-up with a stated aim of introducing more comedy, believing the three leads to be talented in that area but not having had a chance to show it in his dour first film. So here we get a whole subplot given over to Ron’s attempts to join the Quidditch team, as well as much focus on the trio’s romantic entanglements — teenage love always being a good topic for humour. The film is not without its dark side, but peppered liberally throughout are those comedic subplots and scenes that are liable to see the viewer laugh perhaps more than in any other Potter film. It’s easy to miss this element — the main plot is, as always, getting darker and more serious — but once it’s been highlighted (as the makers do in the film’s special features) I think it becomes very noticeable.

Perhaps the other most notable aspect of Half-Blood Prince is the cinematography. Like most of cinema throughout the ’00s, the Harry Potter series shows a gradual shift from a very filmic look, to digital intermediates, to (in some cases) a wholly digital output. This is where it becomes most notable, I feel, with many sequences (especially those involving extensive CGI, like the Quidditch) graded and smoothed to the point where they look almost like a concept art painting rather than a real-life sequence. This is especially obvious if you watch any clip-laden series-spanning documentary, where Half-Blood Prince clips rub shoulders with any previous film and stand out like a sore thumb; but even in the movie itself, without that outside context, it’s sometimes highly noticeable.

The other thing it is is dark — not the story, but the visuals. This reaches its nadir in Deathly Hallows (both parts), which include some shots so dark it looks like some light-black shapes may, perhaps, if you squint and strain, be moving over some dark-black shapes. It’s ridiculous. I have no idea if it functioned OK in the cinema, but on a TV at home it most definitely does not. This seems to be a growing trend in films, though the Potter finale contains some of the worst examples I’ve yet seen. I don’t know the reason, but I presume it’s a tech thing — cameras that can function better in low light; grading the film in perfectly-calibrated conditions so they can really push it to extremes, not considering how most end-users will view it; and, much like fast-cut action scenes, an over-familiarity with the material that means the director/editor/grader can see what’s going on because they’ve watched it dozens (or hundreds) of times, which doesn’t work for a first-time viewer in the middle of the film. As you may be able to guess, I’m not a fan.

By the time of these final two films, it seems Yates has moved from being a TV director skilled in complex plotting, to one very much at home with big effects-driven set pieces. The Battle of Hogwarts, which consumes around 90 minutes of the final film, is an epic and often jaw-dropping affair, though still laced through with the final plot developments and the completion of various character arcs. That said, it’s far from perfect, undermined by a pair of apparently opposing sets of decisions: on the one hand, to flesh out fan-favourite moments to give them too much emphasis (Mrs Weasley’s duel with Bellatrix is over-played; Harry and Voldemort’s final confrontation is amped up to the point it loses the book’s emotion); on the other, slavish faithfulness leaving some moments without enough emphasis.

The biggest crime of the latter is the very end: the battle over, Harry, Ron and Hermione stand outside Hogwarts, survey some of the damage, have a little chat… and then it abruptly cuts to a couple of decades later for the epilogue. For me, it doesn’t feel as if there’s enough space there, enough time to breathe, to consider the impact on the series’ supporting cast — many of them favourite characters, as vitally important to the viewer as they are to the lead trio. How will the Weasleys cope with their losses? What about those others who have lost almost everyone they hold dear? Where have the Malfoys gone? There are nods to this in a montage around the Great Hall / makeshift mortuary, but it feels underplayed; like we need a scene of life-goes-on normality set a few weeks or months later, not a sudden smash-cut to a few decades on where we see how some characters’ lives have developed. I know some people complain about Lord of the Rings’ multitudinous endings but, one, they’re wrong, and two, Potter only has one and an epilogue — sure, the first completes the drive of the storyline and the second is a neat coda, but in between I feel we need more of a character-based resolution.

But hey-ho, it is what it is.

In the end, the TV director hired for a very specific filmmaking skill wound up in charge of exactly half the Harry Potter series. If there was a half to have a single voice in charge of, it’s this one, with one long narrative permeating the films in a way it doesn’t the first four. And yet, for that, each has a distinctive style and voice — well, apart from the two parts of Deathly Hallows, which are really one long film split into halves. Was it the right move, for the series? It clearly produced popular movies, but, thanks to the storyline, it’s already easy to regard the Potter series as four or five stories rather than seven, the last three books merging into one epic tale in three acts — a trilogy, if you will — rather than discrete stories, like the first four. By putting the same man behind the camera for them all, the films just emphasise this point. But maybe that doesn’t matter.

It’s hard to offer a final summary of the Harry Potter series. Some people see them as mediocre and overblown; for others, they are their life. Personally, I think they develop from sometimes-uncertain roots in the early films, to a flourishing series of epic fantasy movies. There are often niggles of one kind or another, be it acting (I forgot to discuss Emma Watson’s eyebrows!), or cartoonish designs, or too-faithful adaptation, or abbreviated adaptation, or what have you — but none of these are ever-present. More importantly, every film offers something to enjoy, and the growing maturity — of not only the cast, but also the filmmaking — means their impact only increases when viewed as an entire eight-film saga.

One for the ages? Movie and genre fans of a certain age might say, “don’t be so daft”; but I wouldn’t be so certain.

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007)

Posted on June 10, 2013 by badblokebob

September 1881: after admiring their leader for years through cheap magazine stories, 19-year-old Robert Ford manages to hook up with the James Gang. Little does he suspect that, just seven months later, he will be responsible for the murder of his idol, Jesse James. (That’s not a spoiler, it’s in the title.)

Ultimately released in 2007, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford found itself going head-to-head in the awards season with No Country for Old Men and There Will Be Blood. The accepted narrative of that time is about the two-horse-race between the latter two, though Jesse James fits with them in some kind of thematic and stylistic triumvirate: they’re all products of what I’d call “American mainstream art house” cinema; all classifiable as Westerns, though none in a strictly traditional sense; all more concerned with their characters and their lives than the machinations of the plot. In the end, No Country garnered most of the awards, There Will Be Blood seems to have settled in as a critical darling, but, for my money, this purest Western of the three is by far the best.

I’m not going to waste much time making direct comparisons between the three films. I suspect there’s an article in that, if someone hasn’t written it already, but it’s not one I have much interest in penning: I don’t think I’ve made much secret of my distaste for the Coen and Anderson efforts in this little threesome, both being films I never really engaged with and certainly didn’t enjoy (in fairness, I should give Blood a second shot, but even the idea of sitting through No Country again makes me shudder). The Assassination of Jesse James, however, is a film I both engaged with and enjoyed greatly.

Let’s be clear, though: this is not a film for everyone. This is not an action movie set in the Wild West, which might be what’s expected from a Hollywood studio movie starring Brad Pitt. Apparently director Andrew Dominik intended to make a film with a Terence Malick vibe, so I read after viewing, which chimed with me because “Malick-esque” was one of my foremost thoughts during viewing. This is a slowly-paced two-hours-and-forty-minutes, with more shots of crops blowing gently in the breeze or riders approaching gradually over distant hills as there are flashes of violence. Despite what the studio wanted, this is not a fast-paced action Western, it’s a considered, sometimes meditative, exploration of character and theme.

The character explored is not particularly Jesse James, but Robert Ford. As the latter, Casey Affleck was largely put forward for Supporting Actor awards, which does him a disservice — the film is largely told from Ford’s perspective, and though there are asides where it follows James or other members of the gang, it begins with Ford’s arrival and ends with his departure from this world. Affleck is superb in a quiet but nuanced performance, which I would say ranges wildly without ever appearing to change. At times he is cocky and self-sure, at others cowardly and defensive, often creepy and occasionally likeable, sometimes both worldly and naïve, a perpetual wannabe who even when he achieves something is still poorly viewed. You might think the title is stating its position on him, but it really isn’t — it’s a position to be considered, a point of contrast to the man’s motives and actions; a statement that is in fact a question.

Conversely, Pitt’s Jesse James is closer to a supporting role. We see him primarily through the eyes of others; he is distant, unknowable, his moods and actions unpredictable thanks to years of law-dodging that’s led to a paranoia about his own men — not all of it misplaced. Jesse’s mood swings are more obvious than Ford’s, but Pitt makes them no less unlikely. At times charming and a clear leader, at others he is a genuinely tense, frightening presence, without ever needing to resort to the grandstanding horror-movie grotesques offered by (Oscar winners) Daniel Day-Lewis and Javier Bardem in There Will Be Blood and No Country respectively.

Though there are other memorable and striking performances — particularly from Sam Rockwell, Paul Schneider, and a pre-fame Jeremy Renner; plus a precise, perfectly-pitched, occasional voiceover narration from Hugh Ross (who doesn’t have many credits to his name but surely deserves some more now) — the third lead is Roger Deakins and his stunning cinematography. There are many clichés to use for good-looking films, and the vast majority of the time they are trotted out as what they are and not really meant. Jesse James, however, is one most could be applied to with total accuracy. For example, there are very few — if any — films where you could genuinely take any frame and hang it as a perfect photograph; but if there is one where you could, this is it.

Deakins has reportedly said that “the arrival of the train in darkness is one of the high watermarks of his career”, and he’s right to think that. It’s a glorious sequence, made up of several shots where every one is perfectly composed and lit to create a remarkable ambience and beauty, as well as telling the story, which in this instance involves as much creation of suspense as eliciting pure artistic appreciation. Deakins did take home a few awards for his work here, but not the Oscar. I can’t remember which film did win and, frankly, I don’t care, because whichever it was this outclasses it by miles.

This must also be thanks in part to director Andrew Dominik. Every last shot feels precisely chosen and paced. Of course, every shot in every film has been chosen and placed where it is, but the amount of thought that’s gone into that might vary. Jesse James somehow carries extra weight in this department, with no frame in its not-inconsiderable running time wasted on an unnecessary angle or take that’s allowed to run even a second too long. Somewhat famously, there was a lot of wrangling over the film’s final cut (delaying its release by a year or more), with the aforementioned debate between something faster and something even slower: a four-hour version screened at the Venice Film Festival, to a strong reception. Sadly, the intervening years haven’t seen that cut, or any of its parts, resurface (to my knowledge). That’s an hour and twenty minutes of material and I’d love to know what’s in them.

One thing in there, I’d wager, would be the performances of Mary-Louise Parker and Zooey Deschanel. Both their characters have a tiny presence in the finished product, and while that may be fine for the overall story (some would criticise how much female characters are sidelined, but that’s another debate), casting two moderately major actresses creates a disjunct with the size of their roles. I was going to say this is one of the film’s few flaws, but it’s debatable if it even qualifies as that: if they’d cast less recognisable faces, their lack of presence would pass by unnoticed.

The other thread I mentioned, seven paragraphs ago, was “theme”. The film has a lot of concurrent aspects one might consider — “loyalty” being a major one, for instance — but I think the biggest is “celebrity”. Not in the modern sense, though I’m sure there are analogies for those that wish. To pick up on what I was saying before: Ford is the main character, and the main thing he wants, even if he doesn’t realise it, is fame. He joins the James Gang because he’s enamoured with the adventurous tales he’s read; because he’s obsessed with the notoriety of Jesse. Later, once the titular deed is done, he becomes an actor (not without talent, as the narration informs us) and re-performs the act that made him famous hundreds of times. It’s his legacy, however, to not be as well-remembered as his victim; to not be as well-liked, even; not even close. There’s something there about the pursuit of fame for its own sake, if nothing else.

It’s difficult to call any film “perfect”. Certainly, there would be plenty of viewers who would consider The Assassination of Jesse James to be an overlong bore. Each to their own, and I do have sympathy with such perspectives because there are acclaimed films that I’ve certainly found to be both overlong and boring. Not this one, though. From the constant beauty of Deakins’ cinematography, to the accomplished performances, to the insightful and considered story (not to mention that it’s been cited as the most historically accurate version of events yet filmed), there are endless delights here. As time wears on and awards victors fade, it deserves to elbow its way back into the debate for the best film of the ’00s.

The UK TV premiere of The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford is on ITV4 tonight at 10pm. It’s screening again tomorrow at 11pm.

It placed 3rd on my list of The Ten Best Films I Saw For the First Time in 2013, which can be read in full here.

The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift (2006)

Posted on May 22, 2013 by badblokebob

2013 #45
Justin Lin | 100 mins | TV | 16:9 * | USA & Germany / English | 12 / PG-13

2001’s car racing actioner The Fast and the Furious seemed, to me, to meet with a mixed reception; the kind of thing where some critics disliked it and some enjoyed it for what it was, and audiences were more the latter but only passingly so. It must’ve done well though, because in 2003 we were treated to a sequel.

For 2 Fast 2 Furious the studio backed the wrong horse, signing up the first film’s uninteresting hero, Paul Walker, and leaving its more entertaining villain, Vin Diesel, to his skyrocketing action star career. The main talking point seemed to be the title, out of which the piss was relentlessly taken… and has been ever since.

Come 2006, there seemed to be some kind of last-ditch attempt at saving what someone thought was a good idea. The third film in the series ditches a number for a subtitle; ditches the US settings for Japan; and ditches every character from the earlier films in favour of a fresh start. What remains is the tone and the content. The plot is the usual mix of street racing and gangster posturing, though at least the “woohoo hot chicks!” and rap culture business has been toned down from last time.

The plot, such as it is, sees a rebellious US high school student (target audience cypher, check!) sent away to his father in Japan instead of going to prison (I’m sure there’s some logic there…) and ordered never to go near a car again. Which he promptly does, of course. Racing is different in Japan, though: rather than drag-style muscle with the odd inconvenient corner, here it’s all about drifting — sliding round corners with style. Goaded into a race, said high school student (I can’t remember his name. Who could?) loses miserably. And then he sets out to learn how to drift and there’s some stuff with a girl who’s with the bad guy and there’s some gangster-types and you know the drill, I’m sure.

If I sound dismissive, it’s slightly affected: Tokyo Drift is surprisingly decent. Surprisingly decent for a Fast and Furious film, that is. In my review of 2F2F I described it as “junk food” — you know it’s bad for you, but sometimes it hits the spot. Tokyo Drift is the same kind of film, all fat and sugar and no substance, but kinda tasty at the right time. And at least it provides something different to the previous films. Not so much the new characters, who are predictably bland; or the plot, which is samey; but the move to Tokyo, which lends proceedings a different flavour and style, not least the emphasis on drifting — most/all of which was performed for real by stunt drivers, rather than the often computer-enhanced car action of the previous films.

Despite this looking like a desperate grab that would leave The Fast and the Furious series as a trilogy in technicalities only, somehow the franchise has since revitalised itself. More on that next time, but it does have a bearing here: as later films brought returning characters and on-going plots, so Tokyo Drift slipped away as an anomaly; an aside, perhaps even a mistake, that has no place in the series’ primary narrative. While that last point may or may not be true, as a film in itself, Tokyo Drift is as passingly entertaining as anything else the F&F series has yet offered me.

* The original aspect ratio is 2.35:1, but this was on ITV and they’re less respectful than Channel 4 or (sometimes) the Beeb. The cropping was rarely noticeable, however. ^

Vote: your favourite Harry Potter

Posted on May 10, 2013 by badblokebob

For the first time ever I’m going to try to poll my readers. This could be terribly embarrassing when I only get three votes… if that…

Those of you who read April’s update will know that I’m halfway through a re-watch of the Harry Potter series. My fresh reviews of the first four films are already online, not to mention my original-viewing thoughts on the final four; and I’ll also contribute new thoughts on the entire David Yates-directed run in the next three or four weeks.

So until that time, I have a question for you: which is your favourite Harry Potter film? Or, if you’d rather, which is the empirical best? Or, if you hate them but have for some reason seen them all anyway, the least-worst?

Do you prefer the uncovering of magic in Philosopher’s Stone? The mystery of the Chamber of Secrets? The fresh direction brought by Prisoner of Azkaban? The action-packed excitement of Goblet of Fire? The resistance thriller that’s emphasised in Order of the Phoenix? The encroaching darkness of Half-Blood Prince? The tension-mounting ‘urban’ thriller hiding in Deathly Hallows Part 1? Or the cathartic, explosive final act of Deathly Hallows Part 2?

Vote now — there can be only one! (Wait, no, wrong long-running fantasy franchise…)

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (2005)

Posted on May 7, 2013 by badblokebob

This review contains major spoilers.

The fourth Harry Potter film is the pivot around which the series revolves, in oh so many ways. Most obviously, it’s book 4 of 7 — the halfway point. It’s also where the books switch from short ‘children’s novel’ lengths to the huge tomes they eventually became. More importantly, it’s the instalment on which the overarching plot of the entire series hangs. Although each previous entry in the Potter canon contributed something to the mythology (even if sometimes its significance wouldn’t become apparent until much later), they’re still viewable as discrete adventures. So too is Goblet of Fire, for the most part — the exception being its final act, which kicks off the story that will consume the rest of the series.

The film is no less of a turning point, for its own reasons. Note that this is when the films’ marketing began to emphasise the ageing of the actors: the teaser trailer begins with shots of Harry, Ron and Hermione from each of the four films; the promotional TV specials go behind the scenes not only on the new film but also its predecessors; clearly substantial retrospective interviews were conducted too: watch the Creating the World of Harry Potter: The Magic Begins documentary on the Philosopher’s Stone Ultimate Edition and it tells the story of the films’ birth by mixing interviews not only from the sets of the first film and the ‘now’ of the final film’s production, but also in costumes and on sets from the fourth movie.

It makes sense: at this point the series was moving beyond your stock franchise length of “trilogy” and into less frequently charted waters, amid speculation that the leads would be recast. With Goblet of Fire being the last point you could reasonably pull that off, I imagine it paid to emphasise that these were the same kids — that we see a cast age in more-or-less real time throughout their childhood, including many small supporting roles as well as the leads, is one of the Potter films’ more unique highlights.

The other big behind-the-scenes decision was one of length. As noted, this is the first Potter story to explode from a short children’s tale, which could be adapted in full in two-and-a-half to three hours, to a lengthy novel that would require masses of time to cover in full. Considerations of spreading it across two films were reportedly dismissed when director Mike Newell promised he could do it in one, essentially by cutting subplots and extraneous material — much as Alfonso Cuarón had on Prisoner of Azkaban, but on a grander scale. (Imagine if they hadn’t made that choice: instead of eight films, the Potter series would have sprawled to 11 instalments!) The result of such editing here is a very direct film, rattling through its plot — even with stuff cut, there’s still a lot of story to cover.

Said story concerns two foreign schools visiting Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament, a series of dangerous challenges, into which someone enters Harry against his will. It’s a nice clear through-line: a series of tasks, interspersed with investigations into who forced Harry to participate and why. It all comes to a head in one of the series’ most famous moments, the murder of Cedric Diggory. I can’t remember if Diggory’s meant to be a nice guy or an irritating jock, but here he’s played by Robert Pattinson, proving it’s not only his involvement with the Twilight franchise that makes him smug and annoying. Still, the impact of Diggory’s demise is still shocking and effective for those who don’t know it’s coming — this isn’t just a light series of children’s adventures any more. Of course, the death of a single-book supporting character is less impactful with an awareness of the franchise as a whole — there’s much worse to come, leaving this a mere opening move.

The other element that begins to creep in from this point is all the teenage romance stuff. Provoked mainly by the Yule Ball, with the guys having to pluck up courage to ask girls and dance lessons with teachers, the characters’ love lives start to become a notable factor. For all the plausibility and humour with which it’s depicted, there are times later when it will become a bit tiresome, especially in the novels. Fortunately, much of that’s internal monologue and subplot, and so goes astray here. Extra thanks to Mr Newell for that.

One of the more overlooked facets of Rowling’s work is her penchant for allegory and gentle satire. That’s understandable — they’re just Kids’ Books about magic, after all, and occasionally thuddingly written ones at that. Allegory you can take or leave (who’s really going to gain a perspective on HIV from Lupin’s struggle with lycanthropy?), but the satire is nice. Here it’s the press under fire. Rita Skeeter may have a greatly reduced role compared to the novel, but her Quick-Quotes Quill — which, essentially, just makes stuff up — is present and correct. The next tale, Order of the Phoenix, carries on this motif (the press demonise Harry), as well as setting its sights on blinkered and ineffectual government, and the evils of exam-focused impractical teachers. It’s all rather pleasing, actually, and you have to hope Potter’s millions of readers took it in and learnt something.

It’s easy to let certain events overshadow the entirety of Goblet of Fire; to subsume it into the single long narrative that arguably takes over the later stories. But though it puts broader events in motion, this is still a self-contained tale all its own — and one of the series’ most exciting at that, between storming action sequences and some effective twists. There’s a fair argument to be made that it’s the film series’ best entry.

In about a month, as I’ve already joined the Order of the Phoenix, uncovered the Half-Blood-Prince, and found both parts of the Deathly Hallows, I’ll offer an overview of the David Yates films…

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (2004)

Posted on May 6, 2013 by badblokebob

Prisoner of Azkaban marks a significant turning point for the Harry Potter film series. Viewed now, it’s easy to see it as just Episode 3 of 8; a saga still getting underway. At the time, coming off the back of two incredibly successful films, it felt like a grand shake-up of an established formula.

It’s the first Potter to move away from a Christmassy end-of-year release slot, for one thing, debuting at the height of summer in May. That also made it the first to break the one-per-year release cycle they seemed to be aiming for, which would’ve emulated each film covering a single year of Harry’s time at school. The release date was only 18 months after Chamber of Secrets, but it had an impact — particularly to little Draco Malfoy, who seems to have undergone the majority of puberty in the short time between the end of Chamber and the start of Azkaban. I still remember my shock when he first appeared in the trailer — I thought they’d recast.

Most striking, however, is the new director. Alfonso Cuarón doesn’t ditch the faithfulness to J.K. Rowling’s novels that defined Chris Columbus’ opening pair, but he does ditch the slavishness, and brings a hefty dose of his own stylish directorial skill in the process. Azkaban is a fan favourite among Rowling’s novels, but Cuarón’s preparedness to change things when necessary made the film more of a hate object for some. The wider world had it right, however, because Azkaban was received as the best Potter yet and, I think, was the start of its rehabilitation from a fans-only series of Children’s Films to something that merited across-the-board full marks when Deathly Hallows Part 2 arrived seven years later.

Cuarón and screenwriter Steve Kloves (who would pen every Potter film bar the fifth) focus in on the novel’s plot, ditching its copious world-building and backstory asides. This has both pros and cons. In the former camp, it leaves room for Cuarón to make something more exciting and filmic than Columbus — you can’t imagine the craziness of the Knight Bus in either of the previous films. It also keeps things moving forward, at quite a pace too, rather than meandering off here and there. Even the Quidditch match serves a purpose.

On the downside, it strips away some explanations that not only deepen the series’ world but, in some cases, help it make sense. We never learn the identity of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs (makers of the ever-so-useful Marauder’s Map), or quite why Harry thought he saw his dad by the lake with the Dementors. The former is only nice detail, I suppose, but the latter event makes much more sense when you know the full explanation from the novel. The story gets by without it, but those unfamiliar with the book who stop to think about things may consider it a plot hole, or at least a leap of logic.

The film introduces two of my favourite characters from the series: Gary Oldman’s Sirius Black and David Thewlis’ Remus Lupin. In slightly different ways they’re both outsiders — underdogs, as it were, if you’ll excuse the pun — but both honourable and powerful… but not as pompous as that poor description makes it sound. The film series doesn’t treat either of them particularly well compared to the books, but then supporting characters and subplots are the first things to go (quite rightly).

The other big cast addition is Michael Gambon, replacing Richard Harris as Hogwarts headmaster Albus Dumbledore. Gambon seemed all wrong when he first turned up, replacing the previous near-perfect casting choice. He’s more familiar now, making it harder to judge which actor is superior; but it’s difficult to imagine Harris getting to grips with some of the cheekier and more active things Dumbledore is called on to do later in the series. Was the requirement to recast a blessing in disguise? Perhaps.

Azkaban was a breath of fresh air when it was released in 2004, really kicking the Potter franchise into life creatively. I know I gave the first two four stars each, but having since watched this and Goblet of Fire, the opening episodes pale in comparison.

Tomorrow, I put my name in the Goblet of Fire…

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets: Extended Version (2002/2005)

Posted on April 23, 2013 by badblokebob

This extended cut takes the already-lengthy second instalment in the Harry Potter franchise and pushes it to nearly three hours (though if you lop off the extensive end credits it’s more like two-and-three-quarters). As with the extended version of the first film, it was originally created for the US TV premiere, then later released on the Ultimate Edition sets, and simply integrates the DVD’s deleted scenes back into the film.

The difference in running time is 13½ minutes, spread across 19 different extensions. (Per usual, a list can be found here.) As you might guess, many are short snippets, running as little as 18 seconds when viewed among the deleted scenes (and those tend to include scene-setting bits from the theatrical version and a copyright notice). Unsurprisingly, then, many are of little significance, often just fleshing out minor characters (Colin Creevey gets to tell his backstory; Justin Finch-Fletchley gets to introduce himself) or adding comedy beats (a floating cake at the Dursleys’; Crabbe and Goyle bumping into ‘themselves’).

So are any especially beneficial? Well, one fleshes out what happened to the flying car (setting up its return to save the day a few minutes later), and there are extra moments to clarify Harry’s awareness of the other students’ worries about him. There’s a bit more Lockhart, once again showing how self-centred he is (it’s surprising how little Kenneth Branagh is in the film actually, so this is welcome), and a tiny bit more Quidditch. There’s also a nod to a subplot with Filch that then doesn’t go anywhere, and one or two minor continuity errors are accidentally introduced (the most obvious is that Hermione tells Harry and Ron they’ll need to take Crabbe and Goyle’s uniforms when using the Polyjuice potion, but then in a new scene she’s stolen some).

The longest extension comes near the start, when Harry misspeaks while using Floo powder and ends up in the nasty part of Diagon Alley. In the theatrical version he just walks out of the creepy shop, but here he has to hide as Malfoys Senior and Junior enter to sell some items. Though it has the advantage of showing us how Lucius treats his son when out of sight of more respectable wizards, and possibly seeds something for later films (what is the one item Malfoy isn’t prepared to sell?), it dilutes the introduction of Jason Isaacs’ villain, which in the theatrical version came slightly later in the bookshop, where he bumps into Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys as they’re leaving Lockhart’s signing. It’s a more effective, more dramatic introduction to someone who will become a major character as the series progresses.

The film itself has held up well over the last 11 years, I think. Columbus was oft derided as a mediocre director at the time; a workmanlike filmmaker installed to simply guide the book faithfully to the screen. He’s not exactly an astounding presence behind the camera, but he’s more than adequate, and some sequences even exhibit flair. The biggest downside of the adaptation, once again screenwritten by Steve Kloves, is that it lacks tension. J.K. Rowling’s mystery-laden plot is very well constructed, but the adaptation doesn’t pay enough attention to hyping up that it is mysterious. The most glaring omission is that Ginny Weasley, so central to the denouement, barely appears until the finale. On the bright side, the lengthy running time does allow more space for all of the familiar characters to grow — particularly the three leads, who already feel considerably older than in the first film (and this in the only Potter film that was story-accurately shot exactly one year later).

There are, arguably, three notable additions to the cast this time out. The first is Lucius Malfoy who, as discussed, will come into his own later. Then there’s Gilderoy Lockhart, a preening wizard celebrity played with relish by Kenneth Branagh. He’s often very amusing and there’s not enough of him. And then there’s Dobby. Apparently Dobby is a beloved character; apparently kids really like him. I’ve always found him intensely irritating, and was surprised how much Rowling made me warm to him in Deathly Hallows. I thought that might make him more palatable at the start… but it doesn’t. He’s wonderfully realised, though — despite the age of the film, much of the CGI holds up really well.

Chamber of Secrets isn’t the best film the Harry Potter series has to offer — it lacks the introductory wonder of the first and the portentousness of later films. Viewed in isolation, it can also look like a total aside from the series’ main story arc… but, as those familiar with later events will know, there’s actually a lot of important stuff introduced (and, in some cases, dealt with) here. Whatever you think of Rowling as a writer, she did a helluva job plotting out her grand story over seven tales.

In a fortnight’s time, I aid and abet the Prisoner of Azkaban…

Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone: Extended Version (2001/2004)

Posted on April 22, 2013 by badblokebob

aka Harry Potter and the Bastardised American Title

Originally created for the film’s US TV premiere in May 2004, then later released on the film’s Ultimate Edition in 2009 (and not making it to the UK in HD until the Wizard’s Collection last September), this Extended Version of the first Harry Potter film adds six-and-a-half minutes of new bits and bobs to the already lengthy adaptation.

Having not seen Philosopher’s Stone for something approaching a decade, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to spot what had been added, especially when the new inclusions were so small. And, indeed, I couldn’t — but the film all seemed so very familiar. As it turns out, there’s a very easy way to find out what’s new, as well as explain why it didn’t jump out at me: look in the disc’s deleted scenes section.

Included on the film’s original DVD release back in 2002, albeit under a series of frustrating mini-games, were six short deleted sequences and one extended one. I owned that DVD, and I found and watched those scenes… and it’s those and those alone that were added back into the film in 2004. I suppose that’s unsurprising really — they were fully mastered, and presumably if there’d been any more (or any more Chris Columbus was prepared for viewers to see) they would’ve been included on the DVD too. (If you own the US Ultimate Edition or any version of the Wizard’s Collection, the scenes can now be found in HD on the special features Blu-ray.)

So what’s new? A couple of snippets of the Dursleys, a bit with Harry and Hagrid on the way to Diagon Alley, an extended scene in Snape’s first class, an extra beat with the three leads after they defeat the troll in the bathroom, an introspective moment at Christmas, and a fuller version of the kids finally discovering who Nicholas Flamel is. (See all of that with pictures here.) Are any of these of great consequence? Not really. I presume the first three were cut to get to Hogwarts that bit quicker, while the classroom scene displays a petulance from Harry that isn’t entirely in keeping with how he’s been presented to that point. The others were, I suppose, sacrifices for time and pace, though as they’re so short in such a long film, they hardly make a mark.

As for the film itself, it holds up surprisingly well after 12 years and seven increasingly-dark follow-ups. The child actors aren’t that bad, all things considered; the adult cast are a constant delight; the CGI looks surprisingly good (some digital stunt doubles notwithstanding); John Seale’s cinematography looks gorgeously film-like on Blu-ray (especially when you take a look in some of the documentaries that merrily mix clips from all the films — Half-Blood Prince in particular looks like a horrendous mess of OTT digital post-production).

At the time Philosopher’s Stone received criticism for journeyman directing from Columbus and a too-faithful adaptation of Rowling’s novel. Ironically, one of the top threads on IMDb’s forum for the film now complains that it’s not faithful enough. The truth is closer to the former than the latter, but that doesn’t make it a bad film. True, it may struggle to convert those new to the world of Potter, and perhaps a Lord of the Rings-style brisk theatrical version followed by a more extensive and faithful Extended Edition would’ve been the way to go… but whereas every film of any quality can get such treatment these days, that wasn’t common practice back at the turn of the millennium (unless your name was Ridley Scott), so the filmmakers can’t be blamed for not doing it. As it stands, I think they mostly struck a fair balance between fidelity and the fact it’s an adaptation. Similarly, Columbus’ direction is rarely exemplary, but it’s competent with some memorable moments.

Even if the Extended Version makes little difference (even for fans it couldn’t be described as essential), I still enjoyed revisiting Philosopher’s Stone. It marks the beginning of an attempt to re-watch the entire saga over eight consecutive weeks, which will hopefully be both fun and interesting — already, I’m spotting links and connections to later events that wouldn’t have been apparent when first viewing the film. Harry Potter isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but I think they’re an entertaining, well-put-together series of fantasy adventures. Plus, as child-driven worldwide media phenomena of the 21st Century go, it’s the only one I can think of that isn’t offensively awful.

Tomorrow, I open the Chamber of Secrets…

Meet the Parents (2000)

Posted on March 21, 2013 by badblokebob

2013 #29
Jay Roach | 103 mins | TV | 16:9 | USA / English | 12 / PG-13

Time flies: this is 13 years old! Originally a Jim Carrey vehicle (feels obvious once you know), Ben Stiller is the prospective son-in-law meeting Teri Polo’s parents (Robert De Niro, Blythe Danner) for the first time. Disaster ensues in a riot of unfortunate events targeting our hapless hero.

Some may find it too cruel, but there’s a requisite soppy ending… though I can’t be alone wishing Stiller abandoned Polo and her awkward family. De Niro almost steals the film as the over-protective father; the (in)famous lie detector scene is fine, but a Ronin-spoofing traffic-light-halted car race is the real highlight.

In the interests of completing my ever-growing backlog of reviews, I decided to post ‘drabble reviews’ of a few films. In the future I may update with something longer, but if I don’t, at least there’s something here for posterity.

For those unfamiliar with the concept, a drabble is a complete piece of writing exactly 100 words long.

Garfield (2004)

Posted on March 11, 2013 by badblokebob

2013 #25
Pete Hewitt | 77 mins | TV | 1.85:1 | USA / English | U / PG

Bill Murray presumably needed some money, otherwise why else voice the titular food-loving sort-of-fourth-wall-breaking moggy in this juvenile adaptation of the long-running newspaper strip? Offering little in the way of laughs, the film’s main success is the cute (real) dog who co-stars as Garfield’s competriot, Odie. The real wonder is how they got him to interact with the CGI cat. Elsewhere, animals are live-action with CG mouths, giving an unsettled presentation of the film’s four-legged characters. Meanwhile, humans Breckin Meyer and Jennifer Love Hewitt engage in a charmless romantic subplot. Oddly, one for dog lovers (with fast-forward to hand) only.