Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (2004)
Score: 5 / 5
Alfonso Cuarón's sole (and priceless) directorial contribution to the wizarding world of Harry Potter is also one of my favorites in the franchise. His vision is so effective because, while he changes a lot of elements from the previous films, he imbues Prisoner of Azkaban with dynamic artistic identity lacking in Columbus's installments. Cuarón presents a masterclass in the grotesque, featuring campy characters and moments that feel perfect for Rowling's complicated world. But he also allows Harry, Ron, and Hermione -- now firmly in the throes of pubescent angst -- freer reign and has obviously worked with them a lot in perfecting their brave performances.
Besides our young leads, most of the supporting cast perform in a fresh way, changing their approach to one fascinated with the bizarre and uncanny. This, of course, may be most clearly seen in the first twenty minutes (ignoring the silly slip wherein Harry is casting spells at home), from Aunt Marge's freak-show turn and the Dursley household mania to the Knight Bus and its three wacky crew members. At Hogwarts, the melodramatic Fat Lady and even Hagrid (Robbie Coltrane) continue the reminders that Harry's world is not only wondrous and beautiful, but edgy and ambiguous. Alan Rickman fronts the darker side of this film, in his most deliciously sinister Snape performance yet.
Our new Dumbledore, brilliantly brought to life by Michael Gambon, is the best thing to happen to the Harry Potter films. He not only gives a stellar performance, but he perfectly embodies the changes Cuarón seeks to make in the series. Gambon subtly camps his role (which was reportedly offered to Peter O'Toole, Christopher Lee, Ian McKellan, and Richard Attenborough) and emanates much-needed vigor. He is accompanied by a startling and delightful Emma Thompson as the effectively bug-eyed Trelawney. Warwick Davis, as Flitwick, is happily much younger (and sports a disturbingly funny moustache), and directs a choir because he's weird like that. Robert Hardy returns as Cornelius Fudge in a greater capacity and performance than in the previous film. Other new (all excellent) additions include David Thewlis as a sweet and bright Lupin, Gary Oldman as a captivating Sirius Black, and Timothy Spall as a sputtering Peter Pettigrew.
John Williams's score (his last in the franchise) is lovely, as he cleverly alters his own themes into darker, more complex patterns. Jany Temime steps in as a new costumer (and remains for all subsequent films) and thankfully allows the students to wear street clothes on their days off. Their characterizations come through much more clearly, as some even change their uniforms to reflect their attitudes; this holds true for Temime's other costumes, as we see on Stan Shunpike, but Dumbledore's soft purple robes take the prize. Cuarón, known for his eye for visuals and longshots, gives a spectacularly wide lens to highlight the actors' performances and beautiful sets with uninterrupted shots. Fluid camera movements connect dramatically to the story and atmosphere, and travel from old to new sets with infectious energy. Perhaps the greatest new set, the clock tower and its courtyard feature prominently, and the camera emphasizes its thematic power in travelling shots that pass also onto the rickety wooden bridge and stone circle beyond.
The script is especially strong here; though the dialogue occasionally falters, the pacing and dramatic focus are remarkable. Cuarón, known for his expert control of a film's style, loads Prisoner with so much thematic imagery and symbolism that it sometimes feels impossibly complex. The stone circle (a sundial), clock tower, Time-Turner, and musical ticking patterns provoke audiences to ponder the magical mystery of time. References to the Scottish Play also abound, and help connect Rowling's world to the mythology of Britain with grace and style. Before we move on, I want to mention one of the film's most haunting moments of dialogue. The Weasley twins chide Ron for calling Harry "peaky" after falling off his broomstick, and offer to throw him off the Astronomy Tower to see how he'd look; that, of course, is how Dumbledore ultimately meets his end. Even this unintentional moment (as the sixth book had not yet been published) shows how Prisoner's aesthetic of dark humor and gothic camp works.
The creature design elements also work exceptionally well here. Buckbeak is especially well-crafted, as far as movie monsters go. The dementors have received various degrees of criticism, but I really like them. If filmed as per Rowling's description, they would have felt too much like Peter Jackson's Ringwraiths. Instead, Cuarón takes his inspiration from Rowling's descriptions of their effect rather than appearance, and allows us to see them as the witches and wizards do. This sensory presence is infinitely more effective. Similarly, the Shrieking Shack set is incredibly complicated, in its effectively psychedelic movements.
Finally, the last forty minutes are some of my favorite in any film, period; it is by far my favorite werewolf sequence. In a combination of heavily thematic atmosphere, homages to classic horror and fantasy, and terrifyingly excellent filmmaking, the sequence from Hermione punching Draco right through Black's rescue from atop the Dark Tower is perfect. Besides the writers and director, props must be given to the heroic editor here as well. I could go on for days about every moment in this enormous sequence, but I'd like to discuss the werewolf design. Like the dementors, it has received a lot of criticism, but there's no denying its unique, haunting appearance. It seems that its designers were inspired by Rowling's intentions for the character, which for me makes this manifestation superior to her own description in the book. Emaciated and hairless, we see the humanity as well as the monstrosity of Lupin's two sides. Lycanthropy, for Rowling (as she has stated on Pottermore), "was a metaphor for those illnesses that carry a stigma, like HIV and AIDS. All kinds of superstitions seem to surround blood-borne conditions, probably due to taboos surrounding blood itself. The wizarding community is as prone to hysteria and prejudice as the Muggle one, and the character of Lupin gave me a chance to examine those attitudes."
IMDb: The Prisoner of Azkaban
* * * * * * *
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (2005)
Score: 3 / 5
The fourth installment in the film series is not as successful as the previous films largely because of its incoherence as a holistic work. While it has valuable high points, its dangerously unbalanced direction and sprawling script make it feel like a picture made by young fans seeking thrills and style over drama and substance. Stylizing your film only works if you pay proper respect and attention to the story you're telling.
The acting in this film similarly has high and low points. Radcliffe and Watson score well as they gracefully age into Harry and Hermione's maturing bodies and stretch their young adult wings even farther than in Prisoner. Mike Williams remains a solid Arthur Weasley, and Jason Isaacs returns as a slippery Lucious Malfoy. We have the great Brendan Gleeson as a moody Moody (though his metallic costume and blond, scraggly hair leave something to be desired). And best of all, we see the dawn of Ralph Fiennes's reign as a show-stealing Voldemort, easing into his newly reborn body with incredible movement work.
Most of the supporting cast gives in to melodrama in this film; even the main cast does, but to a smaller degree. It could have worked well had director Mike Newell designed the film as operatic or even farcical, but he allows just too much heart and subtlety (and significant sentiment, unfortunately) for that to be the case. Igor Karkaroff, Amos Diggory, and Barty Crouch are perhaps the most extreme examples, and their performances are notably overwrought. To a lesser degree, Rita Skeeter (Miranda Richardson, who is quite successful, if brief), Viktor Krum, and Fleur Delacour also ham it up. It's a partially successful (and quite brave) move on Newell's part, but the imbalance overthrows any cumulative effect. David Tennant is almost insensitively demonizing in his portrayal of an apparently mentally unstable Barty Crouch Junior; rather than chilling or even sad, he creates an inhuman monster that feels outrageously out of place and obnoxiously stereotyped.
Beyond specific characters, attention should also be drawn to the sexualization of teenagers in this film. While I applaud the notion of portraying the teenage witch or wizard body as a turning point in adolescent desire, Newell force-feeds us a heteronormative, hypersexualized range of student bodies (that by my reckoning should mostly be fourteen years old). And rather than making these sexual images funny or somehow relevant to the story, Newell simply sexualizes characters to make them more titillating for young audiences. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons are turned from normal (well, magical) schools into hotbeds of sex-segregated hormones. Apparently only hunky, dark-haired, and thickly-accented men can attend the former, and only skinny white girls with blue skirts, French accents, and a butt-jiggling attitude can attend the latter. Rowling's world is wonderful because its culture is such that individuality is admired; Newell presents us with a world too like our own, with conformity as the social standard.
The camera here reveals great visuals and an aggressively dark color palette, but fast shots with sometimes little connection make the film feel like a video game on more than one occasion. There are also several totally unnecessary sequences in the film. The first and second Triwizard tasks are woefully overwrought, with the dragon chase and grindylow attack acting solely as busied spectacle. Other small moments, like Dumbledore's candy that attacks Harry, just don't make sense; though Newell's team rightly cut away excess subplots from Rowling's book, he wasted precious time dwelling on these fruitless moments rather than enhancing the drama of the most mystery-oriented novel.
But Goblet has its virtues as well. The World Cup, a sequence I for one would have had trouble refining to its meat, is handled quite well, boiled to its basic components while serving to orient the audience to a new adventure. We finally see the owlery, as well as the Dumbledore's Pensieve, both well-designed. Dumbledore's scenes in general draw my attention because their dialogue hints at drama and tension lurking beyond what we see, and even into the future of the series. The Yule Ball is perfect, visually entrancing and elegant. Hermione's dress is a showstopping moment, and the glory of a festooned Great Hall is wondrous to behold. From McGonagall teaching Ron how to dance to Hermione's teary perch on the staircase, the sequence is a beautiful centerpiece to the film. The loveliness continues with Hermione and Harry on the wooden bridge before the second task, with emotional connection, closeup shots, and dialogue. Finally, the third task -- the maze -- is impeccable. Its design brings the strongest thematic element to the movie (besides the graveyard scene, of course), so much so that it feels like a product of Cuarón's film. In fact, I like the maze so much that I consider it an improvement on the source material.
The acting in this film similarly has high and low points. Radcliffe and Watson score well as they gracefully age into Harry and Hermione's maturing bodies and stretch their young adult wings even farther than in Prisoner. Mike Williams remains a solid Arthur Weasley, and Jason Isaacs returns as a slippery Lucious Malfoy. We have the great Brendan Gleeson as a moody Moody (though his metallic costume and blond, scraggly hair leave something to be desired). And best of all, we see the dawn of Ralph Fiennes's reign as a show-stealing Voldemort, easing into his newly reborn body with incredible movement work.
Most of the supporting cast gives in to melodrama in this film; even the main cast does, but to a smaller degree. It could have worked well had director Mike Newell designed the film as operatic or even farcical, but he allows just too much heart and subtlety (and significant sentiment, unfortunately) for that to be the case. Igor Karkaroff, Amos Diggory, and Barty Crouch are perhaps the most extreme examples, and their performances are notably overwrought. To a lesser degree, Rita Skeeter (Miranda Richardson, who is quite successful, if brief), Viktor Krum, and Fleur Delacour also ham it up. It's a partially successful (and quite brave) move on Newell's part, but the imbalance overthrows any cumulative effect. David Tennant is almost insensitively demonizing in his portrayal of an apparently mentally unstable Barty Crouch Junior; rather than chilling or even sad, he creates an inhuman monster that feels outrageously out of place and obnoxiously stereotyped.
Beyond specific characters, attention should also be drawn to the sexualization of teenagers in this film. While I applaud the notion of portraying the teenage witch or wizard body as a turning point in adolescent desire, Newell force-feeds us a heteronormative, hypersexualized range of student bodies (that by my reckoning should mostly be fourteen years old). And rather than making these sexual images funny or somehow relevant to the story, Newell simply sexualizes characters to make them more titillating for young audiences. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons are turned from normal (well, magical) schools into hotbeds of sex-segregated hormones. Apparently only hunky, dark-haired, and thickly-accented men can attend the former, and only skinny white girls with blue skirts, French accents, and a butt-jiggling attitude can attend the latter. Rowling's world is wonderful because its culture is such that individuality is admired; Newell presents us with a world too like our own, with conformity as the social standard.
The camera here reveals great visuals and an aggressively dark color palette, but fast shots with sometimes little connection make the film feel like a video game on more than one occasion. There are also several totally unnecessary sequences in the film. The first and second Triwizard tasks are woefully overwrought, with the dragon chase and grindylow attack acting solely as busied spectacle. Other small moments, like Dumbledore's candy that attacks Harry, just don't make sense; though Newell's team rightly cut away excess subplots from Rowling's book, he wasted precious time dwelling on these fruitless moments rather than enhancing the drama of the most mystery-oriented novel.
But Goblet has its virtues as well. The World Cup, a sequence I for one would have had trouble refining to its meat, is handled quite well, boiled to its basic components while serving to orient the audience to a new adventure. We finally see the owlery, as well as the Dumbledore's Pensieve, both well-designed. Dumbledore's scenes in general draw my attention because their dialogue hints at drama and tension lurking beyond what we see, and even into the future of the series. The Yule Ball is perfect, visually entrancing and elegant. Hermione's dress is a showstopping moment, and the glory of a festooned Great Hall is wondrous to behold. From McGonagall teaching Ron how to dance to Hermione's teary perch on the staircase, the sequence is a beautiful centerpiece to the film. The loveliness continues with Hermione and Harry on the wooden bridge before the second task, with emotional connection, closeup shots, and dialogue. Finally, the third task -- the maze -- is impeccable. Its design brings the strongest thematic element to the movie (besides the graveyard scene, of course), so much so that it feels like a product of Cuarón's film. In fact, I like the maze so much that I consider it an improvement on the source material.
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