This past weekend I (like a good chunk of the world's population)went to see HARRY POTTER AND THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX. As anyone who has read the book knows, Harry's world darkens considerably in this story. It comes off the climax of the previous book (and movie), which featured murder, graverobbing, dismemberment, mayhem, and torture of a child -- pretty much in that order. This story takes that atmosphere of joy and pretty much spreads it through the whole installment.
Voldemort and his power-hungry sycophants loom large in the story, of course, but the central villains are exponentially scarier --because they are so realistic. Those blackguards would be, of course, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge (who proves full of "fudge" indeed) and his toady, Delores Umbridge. Umbridge -- played to perfection by Imelda Staunton -- is the treacle-voice Ministry bigwig who arrives at Hogwarts ostensibly as the latest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher (a job akin to drummer for Spinal Tap), but in fact as the political officer meant to keep Hogwarts, Dumbledore, and especially Harry in step with the Ministry's party line.
Yes, it's the first post-9/11 Harry Potter novel, and the one that brings political satire to the fore. The plot hints of Britain under Blair and America under Cheney -- er, Bush; but Rowling did not tie it to any particular time or government -- it also contains elements of pre-World War II England under Chamberlain.
Meanwhile, Harry himself is dealing not only with the normal adolescent moodiness, but also his Dickensian history: his abusive upbringing; the horrors he's encountered; and in particular, big doses of survivor's guilt and post-traumatic stress disorder stemming from the end of the previous installment. All that makes for one tense magic-boy. Daniel Radcliffe,who's grown tremendously as an actor, gives life to a Harry who's increasingly deep -- who goes to school and takes exams, but is plainly not just a kid anymore.
The movie adaptation of this story is perhaps the most economic of all of the HP movies. One of the benefits of constantly changing directors after the first two movies is that no one installment (again, after the first two) looks or feels like any other. Chapters one and two were brightly-colored jewelry boxes; chapter three was a painting; chapter four was a transition from light to dark. This one shows Potter's magical universe cracking around him, as nearly all of his adult support systems either distance themselves from him or are taken away. Director David Yates (who, incredibly, reportedly makes his feature debut with this $250 million movie) establishes the mood with the first, brilliant scene: Harry sitting in a nearly-deserted playground, clearly smack-dab in our world, drenched in late-summer sun, watching with quiet envy as a mother plays with her young child. Along the way, Yates and screenwriter Michael Goldenberg manage to shove in major adult characters from all of the previous movies -- plus a passel of new characters -- build suspense, show some spectacular action and set pieces, and yet devote lots of quality time to Harry, Ron, Hermione, and even their pubescent supporting cast. None of the character scenes with the kids seem rushed, even as the plot moves inexorably forward.
I don't want to give the impression that it's all doom and gloom. There's lots of visual fun too. I may be jaded by watching decades of special effects, but I still watched amazed as Harry and a passel of wizards (each on a broom reflecting that character's personality) zoom low over the Thames, dodging ships; or when a yuppie apartment building in downtown London telescopes out to reveal Sirius Black's family manse. Then there's the slam-bang finale -- perhaps the best of all the novels published so far -- in which everybody throws down heavy and goes to wand city.
Although the movie, like the previous two, slices out huge gobbets of the book's plot in a Procrustean effort to fit a fat book into a thin playing time, it adds to the story as well. In the hands of gifted actor Alan Rickman, Snape -- who often comes across in the novels as a one-note mustache twirler -- is lent depth; even as he verbally tears into Harry, and commits the unforgivable crime of visiting Harry's fathers sins upon the son, there is a weird sense of paternal caring when Snape tutors Harry in blocking mind-probes. When he tells Harry, "Life -- is -- unfair," he's not taunting the boy; he's giving him sound advice. Similarly, first-time actress Evanna Lynch gives Rowling's "wise fool," the moon-eyed Luna Lovegood, a caring and affection (and attraction) for Harry that is at most implied in the books.
This is a terrific installment in the series. It deserves the success it's receiving.
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