Venom: The Last Dance: (2024)

Score: 1.5 / 5

What happened? Venom and Let There Be Carnage were so delightfully wacky and weird and fun that we had no reason to expect less from what is presumably the final installment in this series. And for the non-discerning viewer, this could just as easily be another entry in a lengthier franchise, one that is hardly notable, frequently forgettable, and generally uninspired, but still a fun time in the brief moments it allows its cutesy buddy/antihero dynamics to breathe and cause mayhem. Unfortunately, director and writer Kelly Marcel -- and, surely, due to no small interference from the studio -- completely misses the mark on this entry, ending the series on a pitifully pathetic note.

Tom Hardy is never less than his best self, and the film works best when it allows him to create weirdness. Hardy's delivery of Eddie Brock this time is a bit melancholic and world-weary, but his playfulness shines through as both the human and the titular symbiote. But Marcel rarely allows him to just do his thing in this film, pushing him relentlessly through plot points so contrived you have to wonder if the storyboard was generated by AI. Essentially, Brock/Venom, on the run in Mexico after the events in the previous film, decide to go to New York City, which just seems about as smart and safe a choice as any. En route, they are attacked by a monstrous symbiote predator, which Venom reveals to be due to his having resurrected Brock in the first film. Their special bond is thus called a Codex, and the symbiote creator Knull wants it. Why? How does he know about it? It's all a bunch of weird sci-fi jargon and fantasy nonsense, but the MacGuffin of it remains exactly that.

So they find their way through Las Vegas to a soon-to-be-decommissioned Area 51, beneath which a secret government operation is studying other symbiotes, under the leadership of Rex Strickland (Chiwetel Ejiofor) and Dr. Teddy Payne (Juno Temple). Don't get excited by these new cast members; they are utterly wasted in this film. Similarly, Rhys Ifans as a hippie who picks up a hitchhiking Brock and takes him there gets a few nice moments but is generally underused in what could have been a really cool character role. The characters aren't helped by a directorial (or producorial) determination to spend as much time as possible on action, a choice that renders most of the film unwatchable due to aggressively banal blobs of CGI alien goo dripping and flinging around like antigrav watery sludge. 

The film seems to be the end of the road for Eddie Brock and Venom, and the film's climax (SPOILER ALERT) suggests that Venom's sacrifice is indeed final. Several other symbiotes are released, including one that bonds with Temple's character, and more of that could be fun to explore in the future. Because, rest assured, there will be more. The film has not one but two post-credits scenes, one which implies Knull (Andy Serkis) coming to Earth as a Big Bad Guy now that Venom is out of the picture, the other implying that Venom may in fact have survived the inferno at Area 51. It's all much ado about... nothing, really.

At least we got a bit more of Cristo Fernandez and much more of hilarious, heartwarming Peggy Lu in this one. It's just too bad Marcel couldn't keep her eyes on the good things she had at her disposal, choosing instead to dispose of them in this trashy mess of a movie that would have done better to not have been made at all.

Nyad (2023)

Score: 3 / 5

It's rare that I find a film most compelling due to a single element, and perhaps even more when that element is acting, but Nyad fit that bill last year. Diana Nyad, in case you don't remember, is the legendary long-distance swimmer who tried multiple times to swim the Straits of Florida, from the Keys to Cuba, in the early 2010s. Raw material seemingly made for film, her story is one of stubborn perseverance almost to the point of martyrdom, as the over fifty hours of constant swimming in open ocean could have easily killed her, even while supervised. Some will note the various skeptics who doubt certain aspects of her achievements, but technicalities aside, it is clear that Nyad is one of the most determined and accomplished aqua-athletes in America, and this dramatization reminds us of the human story behind the headlines.

Annette Bening plays the title role with especial attention to the name's mythic Greek roots. Her character repeatedly references her fate to live in the water and succeed where mere mortals cannot. Bening embodies Nyad with determined physicality, shocking and riveting as she takes to the water like a professionally seasoned swimmer. Even out of the water, she has a messy-haired, wild-eyed, almost animalistic ferocity in her directness and lack of social grace. Bening's steely gaze sees through the artifice of everyone around her, cutting them down while inflating herself, despite a lack of stylish habiliment. Much like Bening's shockingly muscular prowess in mastering this role, Jodie Foster nails a more emotional role than she's had in a while as Bonnie Stoll, Diana's longtime friend and trainer, she watches her best friend flirt with death time and again. She's more perceptive and warm than her counterpart, offering us a welcome perspective on what's really happening to and around Diana from a person we immediately trust. She's also the only person to call Diana out on her prickly behavior. Their relationship is the dynamic that pulses through Nyad, and it serves up a raw feast for your heart.

But it's not all your typical sporty biopic about a dedicated athlete overcoming the odds. She does, of course, but there are twists to it. First, the two women are also exes, which adds a melancholic but heartwarming flavor to their interactions, especially as Bonnie has to witness Diana's monomania and try to support and protect at the same time. Second, Diana is hardly a likable person; so single-minded is her obsession that she can scarcely interact with other people without limiting the conversation to her methods, her training, her goal. She's also remarkably conceited, constantly boasting and self-promoting to the point of off-putting most who enter her orbit. One wonders how much her motivation and her narcissism stem from misogyny she's endured and needed to overcome on her own terms. Third, this isn't a team sport and therefore the film doesn't engage much with the whole camaraderie/teamwork/acceptance trope that structures most inspirational sporty stories. Diana feels that she is alone, fighting powers that seek to keep her in her place, combatting forces of nature like King Lear in the ocean (she is in her mid-60s, after all), and even challenging her supporters for trying to control and influence her pure dreams.

The narrative itself, apart from these character elements, is routine at best. All five of Diana's attempts are dramatized to various extent, and each introduces new and increasingly dangerous elements of her crossing. Powerful ocean currents, drifting courses, and threats of sharks and jellyfish send them back to the drawing board each time, learning new ways to light her path, protect her face and body, even to feed and water her without touching. In between, we get glimpses of her spats with reporters, friends, and even her colleagues, including her somewhat surly ship captain (Rhys Ifans), whose understanding of the sea surpasses her own, much to Diana's chagrin. The film features a few effectively intense and memorable scenes -- a jellyfish attack in the middle of the night is particularly harrowing -- but it also wallows in a lot of "same ol', same ol'" shots of, well, open ocean and torturous swimming, only really discernible by virtue of the forced and obvious soundtrack (that is supported by the screenplay, as Diana mentions songs that run through her mind as she keeps time, but it's still overbearing in our experience of the film).

In summation, the two lead performances are more than award-worthy and more than make the film worth watching. I'd have liked, perhaps, a bit more consideration of Nyad's real character, rather than the somewhat mythic caricature presented by this film. There is always a time and place for inspirational, (wo)man-against-nature adventure or sports flicks, and this definitely fits the bill with an unusually keen focus on complex characters. But when the real Diana Nyad, who is still alive and proudly making rounds as a motivational speaker, etc., has come under such fire for exaggerating her own accomplishments, fabricating her numbers and methods, and even being denied a Guinness World Record for the task depicted in this same story, it feels disingenuous and purposely misleading not to include more of the shady side of her persona. Bonnie at one point teases Diana for embellishing one of her repeated tales, but no further reference is made to her untrustworthiness. Not that painting Diana as a liar should be the point -- heck, the writer could have included more about her need to be better than how the male-dominated sport and society view her, or her determination to be an older, queer woman role model to inspire younger generations and how that can impact someone's self-image.

The Phantom of the Open (2022)

Score: 4 / 5

Mark Rylance is one of the most underrated and dexterous actors of his generation working today, and he blesses us with another fabulous performance this year (his others were The Outfit and Bones and All) as The Phantom of the Open. Under an assortment of argyle vests and his signature bucket hats, he plays Maurice Flitcroft, the real-life worst golf player in history. Well, more or less; Flitcroft is known for having shot the worst round ever at the British Open in 1976 and for being subsequently banned by the organization. Not that that stopped Flitcroft, who played (or attempted to) many more times under various false identities.

British comedies are really hit-or-miss for me, but this one nailed the dry, sweet humor that hit the mark dead-on. It's a story of pluck and gumption, of chasing your dreams regardless of what the world tells you to do, accomplishing the impossible and inspiring others to do the same. Flitcroft was a shipyard crane operator in a working-class lifestyle with his wife Jean (Sally Hawkins in a terribly underwritten role) and three sons who in turns encourage and discourage him from continuing his antics. But once Maurice is bit by the golf bug, there's no stopping him from sneaking onto ranges to practice or wheedling his way into upscale clubs.

I confess a little annoyance that the film never really gets to the heart of exactly why Maurice spontaneously fell in love with golf and determined to make it his passion. Perhaps it doesn't really matter, ultimately, because simply knowing it's his passion should be enough. But for such a wacky, largely unbelievable story, it might help us emotionally connect with the otherwise distractingly eccentric protagonist. His thick accent and little quirks and tics reveal the depth of Rylance's acting skills much more than they reveal anything about Maurice's internal life other than his indomitable optimism for himself and determined perseverance. The closest we get to understanding Maurice's view of the world is in a few notable scenes of magical realism, as Maurice daydreams about his own stardom and about himself orbiting a golf ball like he's its moon (and that golf is, by extension, his whole world).

And that's the ultimate point of this film, I think: celebrating the virtues of hope and honesty with oneself, despite how the world mocks you for or restricts you from living your best life. Rhys Ifans plays the villainous head of the Open, a sort of cartoonish business man determined to maintain the higher class of his tournament and organization. He's essentially the bumbling schoolmaster to Maurice's naughty schoolboy, warily watching for a fake moustache or poor French accent to identify Flitcroft and then chasing him off the premises. And, really, it's this sequence of elaborate disguises and chases that could have made for the bulk of the film, rather than being relegated to the final third of this film, in something I'd imagine not unlike the tone of Catch Me If You Can. That caper would make for a much more action and comedy-heavy film, which clearly director Craig Roberts is not interested in making. Instead, his film turns Maurice into a hero for anyone who has ever chased a dream against all odds, even the knowledge that they aren't "good" at their passion. Really, if anything, this film reminded me most of Florence Foster Jenkins in that way. 

The King's Man (2021)

Score: 3.5 / 5

This series is so very strange. Back when The Secret Service launched in 2014, it seemed that Matthew Vaughn just wanted to make a silly, vulgar James Bond movie for a new age. And that's fine, just like the first two films. Wild and wacky, they stop just shy of full camp due to the earnestness with which they lean into their action sequences (not to say that Elton John flirting with Colin Firth after kicking ass in a parrot costume in The Golden Circle isn't camp). Overplotted and overwritten, they toy with larger ideas to validate their often cringey comedy moments, which makes for solid entertainment if not always anything more. And you can hardly fault the series for its considerable body count, which often includes main cast members.

The King's Man, the prequel origin story of the Kingsmen organization, is much more tame than the two that came before. Perhaps this is due to its setting, on the brink of war in 1914, when much of the smash-bang, gadget-driven action of the modern installments by definition can't happen. This one is much more of a spy movie, concerned with actual historical characters and events and the political games that led to open war. 

Ralph Fiennes (who finally proves his mettle at the kind of Bond character he could have played so well) plays the protagonist, Orlando Oxford, a VC-decorated former army officer and now sworn pacifist. Having lost his wife in the Boer War, Oxford has become more reclusive, determined to protect his son Conrad (Harris Dickinson) at all costs. Covertly, he has recruited two of his household servants (the excellently cast Djimon Hounsou and Gemma Arterton) to help him start his own spy network, hoping to head off unnecessary conflicts before they erupt. Oxford mentions more than once that they are able to hide in plain sight as servants ignored by the privileged. He, however, is an important advisor to King George (Tom Hollander, who deliciously also plays Kaiser Wilhelm and Czar Nicholas) in the time leading up to the Great War, and so hiding is not an option for him.

After setting itself up as a measured commentary on colonialism and pacifism, the film does inevitably turn toward violence, and it's not as classy as one might have hoped. A primary delight in the first film was seeing Colin Firth's character go from dapper gentleman to bloodthirsty maniac. Here, Fiennes is more restrained, which is great, but the film itself is about as bonkers as ever. To try and prevent Russia from leaving the war and opening the Western Front, the team journeys to Russia to stop Rasputin (an almost unrecognizable Rhys Ifans). The mad monk is working for the mysterious Shepherd (a sort of Moriarty or Blofeld figure), who is orchestrating the world war. Oxford's confrontation of Rasputin is an amazing sequence that blends actual history with bizarre action fantasy -- and a particularly uncomfortable scene in which Rasputin heals Oxford's leg wound by licking it -- and is a highlight of the film.

I found myself wondering more than once if this was initially conceived as a standalone WWI film before Vaughn co-opted or pirated it and then shoehorned it into his burgeoning and unlikely franchise. Some of the spy stuff and most of the war stuff is really solid filmmaking, with another excellent sequence taking place in a no-man's land hellish field of mud and blood; it reminded me of Wonder Woman and 1917 perhaps more than it deserved. But because of its greater emotional intelligence and slightly more accessible tone, The King's Man might be my favorite of this franchise yet. 

Official Secrets (2019)

Score: 4 / 5

I'm a sucker for this kind of genre-inclusive thriller that fills space between politics, legality, courtrooms, history, war (or, really, any hot topic), and an all-star cast. Just this year we've had several, from the CIA Torture Report to the DuPont chemical poisoning, and though we don't really have a unique name for this genre, I'm always happy to dive in. Gavin Hood's addition to this genre, Official Secrets, isn't as dazzling as others this year, and feels more workmanly than cinematic, but manages to remain engaging, thrilling, and as entertaining as you could hope for.

This time, we jump across the pond to learn about -- if we don't already know -- Katharine Gun, the British whistleblower who leaked "official secrets" to the press. Though whistleblowing in the age of Edward Snowden and the much-publicized whistleblower who paved the way to President Trump's impeachment might seem glamorous and explicit, Gun's case is remarkably quiet. In the course of her job -- translating British intelligence memos from Mandarin to English -- she discovered an illegal attempt by US intelligence to spy on several UN officials in an attempt to predict and influence their decision to invade Iraq in 2003. She turned herself in rather shortly after her leak, and after some intense scrutiny leading up to her trial, the prosecution suddenly dropped the case with no explicit reason.

The reason, of course, was that the government was punishing someone for trying to stop an internationally illegal war of aggression and a trial would have uncovered highly embarrassing information from the US, Britain, and presumably other major powers. To save face, keep certain information secret, and ensure reputations were maintained, the prosecution no doubt bowed to pressures internal and external, choosing to hide behind a facade of "national security" as their defense. Infuriating as the story is, it's also a remarkably uncinematic one, because the buildup leads to an anti-climax, where Gun, on display during her defense, is suddenly and unexpectedly told she is free to leave after the prosecution fails to submit any evidence.

Much like The Report and Dark Waters this year, truth is strange but often deeply unjust, and therefore unsatisfying. Nothing big happens as a result of this mess. The main character spends so much time, effort, and anxiety to vindicate herself and bring the system to account for its criminality, and succeeds only to a small extent. The institution still stands, the systems remain in place, and we're left with the sinking feeling that all this will happen again. And while Official Secrets doesn't feature as intense or cohesive a story as others of its ilk this year, it features a stripped-down Keira Knightley doing her usual fabulous thing among a stellar cast and some sharp timely dialogue. At one point early on she screams at Tony Blair on the television, "Just because you're Prime Minister doesn't mean you get to make up your own facts!" I wasn't sure if I should laugh or cry.

Snowden (2016)

Score: 3 / 5

Oliver Stone surprises us again. This time, though, I'm wondering if it wasn't the lesser kind of surprise.

The enigmatic character of Edward Snowden and his apparent crimes against the US government seem to be the perfect basis for a political/legal thriller and an engrossing bio-drama. And so they do, as Oliver Stone shows us in the ensemble-driven spectacle that is Snowden. The odd thing with this film, however, is that Stone himself seems to, for what might be the first time in his many directorial features, shrink away from the possibilities of his own film. Whereas his style almost always gives his films' substance a run for its money, here, the only thrilling thing to be seen is the story itself. The fact-based plot and the obviously painstakingly detailed production design are the only things that hold our attention.

Well, okay, maybe not the only things. The ensemble cast (including Melissa Leo, Zachary Quinto, Tom Wilkinson, and even Nicolas Cage) are all at the top of their respective games. Leave it to Stone to handle ensemble casts better than almost anyone. Joseph Gordon-Levitt proves once again his fabulous ability to change characters without a single crack in his performance. He is not quite chameleonic -- we never forget who it is we're really watching -- but his delivery is so pitch-perfect and impassioned that he sweeps us away with it. The movie is stolen, though, by Rhys Ifans as his primary instructor. I won't give anything away, but that man knows how to do his thing.

The movie works best when it's telling its story of governmental espionage and whistle-blowing; it will downright scare you, if you, like me, didn't really understand what the secrets were Snowden leaked. I don't know that the movie convinced me of Snowden's heroism, probably because those tropes were played so heavily-handed. But it's an amazing journey either way, and one that certainly made me pause the next time I wanted to Google search something. The movie tries a few times to become a character drama starring Snowden and his girlfriend (played by Shailene Woodley, unfortunately), and those scenes are woefully underwritten.

I have heard that the 2014 documentary Citizenfour is even more thrilling than Snowden, and I intend to find that out for myself. I wouldn't be surprised; Stone's film often feels dry and uninspired, finding its uncertain way between a not-so-thrilling thriller and cut-and-pasted biography. In short, it's not one of Stone's masterpieces, and if you're watching it for his craft, you will be disappointed as I was. If, on the other hand, you want to see the excellent cast doing what they do best, this is one picture you just can't miss.

IMDb: Snowden

Serena (2014)

Score: 1 / 5

It's as if no one in the film read the book.

Before you call me a hypocrite for comparing a book to a film adaptation, let's get one thing straight. If you're making an adaptation and you have a perfect roadmap (from which you are adapting your work), why wouldn't you follow it? The only reason I can logically get behind is if your adaptation works on its own terms. If your adaptation effectively and artfully explores its own themes and style in a way that maintains some honor as well as integrity.

This doesn't.

Susanne Bier's film of Serena is a mellow melodrama with little historical relevance, almost no worthwhile thematic elements, and only mildly convincing performances. The cinematography is confused and confusing, shaky and unfocused, and what are supposed to be shots of sweeping majesty fall hopelessly flat as there is no drama under the visuals. It's overscored, overedited, and underwritten, and our stars' performances suffer as a result. What were apparently very effective rehearsals in emotional connection (chemistry, so to speak) are washed over onscreen simply because there is so little for our stars to dig their teeth into. Rhys Ifans gives the only compelling show, and he only pops up in a handful of scenes.

The worst sin here, though, is that the story just doesn't work. We are given an initial shot of two strong women, Rachel the dutiful worker and Serena the upright equestrian. From there, each dissolves into wispy figures awash in blood and fatigue, fearful and insecure, waiting helplessly to be delivered by the men around them. Even those men are strictly divided into the bearded strong men of the timber industry and the hairless wimps who deserve their sorrows. It's a sort of romance, I suppose, in that it raises questions of how far one will go for love, and yet all ends in bizarre, unconnected loss and failure. But by the end, we also don't really care, because the film has shown us remarkably little to gain our sympathies with any of them. Even J-Law's self-immolation (oops, spoiler alert, if it matters) was so ridiculous that I started giggling. I'm guessing that's not the point of the scene.

In case you haven't read it, let me give you a super brief concept of Ron Rash's novel. It's Macbeth in Depression-era Appalachia, where our title woman and her hubby establish their timber empire and ruthlessly remove all obstacles and annoyances (meaning traitorous business partners and incompetent lackeys) from their path to power, wealth, and glory. Serena is a perfect character, a goddess incarnate as well as a living, breathing nightmare of the heteropatriarchy. Ron Rash imbues her with superhuman qualities and extends this magical realism to the environment, allowing the wooded mountains of North Carolina to become their own character, sentient and divine at once. Much of the dialogue, narration, and plot/character devices mirror Shakespearean style, including the chorus of lumberjacks and the soothsaying old woman, which is also a reflection of archaic Appalachian culture.

Just so you know, almost none of this makes it into the film. Moments are stolen, but they are hodge-podge and so unclear that even someone familiar with the source material might miss them. There's a shot in the middle of the picture of Serena on horseback with the sun streaming through the morning mist about her; I think it's a reference to one such icon in the novel that suggests her divinity, but the images lasts less than five seconds and the background of the shot quickly trivializes the visual, and nothing significant happens before or after, so it doesn't really matter as a moment. Another example: Late in the film, our pseudo-hero comes calling to old widow Jenkins (the soothsaying archetype, who has until that moment not been seen or mentioned explicitly), only to find her dead on the floor, presumably a victim of our anti-heroes. The whole scene takes less than two minutes (probably less than one), and there is no exposition at all. No context at all. No drama at all.

The film, on the other hand, is anything but a reflection of the culture, the aesthetic, or the themes it pretends to invoke. In fact, I might argue that it is an artistically lazy film, a sappy and pathetic romance, a borderline misogynist (and not-so-borderline classist) story, and ultimately a waste of time.

IMDb: Serena

Harry Potter 7 & 8

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1 (2010)
Score: 5 / 5

My favorite thing about David Yates is that, while his "big picture" goal for his Harry Potter films remains constant, each of his four installments has a distinctive aesthetic that broadens our view into the wizarding world. Yates views Deathly Hallows: Part 1, the thematically darkest film in the franchise, with an eye toward gritty violence. Between the sweeping panoramas and emotional conversations, we see a few shockingly visceral fights, including the Death Easter attack in the night sky and the Snatcher chase near the end. Filtered through stylized camerawork and higher contrast, these sequences (among others) feel grainy and tactile, almost like footage from an action or war film.

Our three leads successfully venture into new acting territory. Rupert Grint's sulking presence is his best in the series. Emma Watson and Daniel Radcliffe shine in their connected, emotionally rooted performances. We see few other faces for any length of time, but plenty in passing. King of these is Rhys Ifans as tragic and chilling Xenophilius Lovegood. Bill Nighy gives a face to Rufus Scrimgeour, and Andy Linden (whom I do not recall from other major works) gives us an 'orribly charming Mundungus Fletcher. Imelda Staunton, Jason Isaacs, Helena Bonham Carter, Tom Felton, John Hurt, Ralph Fiennes, and Toby Jones reprise their roles from earlier in the series to great, if brief, success. Finally, I want to point out the amazing Kate Fleetwood, who plays the almost inconsequential Mary Cattermole, because she's a great Lady Macbeth (2010) and even showed up in Les Miserables (2012).

The emotional opening sequence takes us from intrigued to sad to terrified, as we see new Minister of Magic Rufus Scrimgeour taking power, our heroes leaving their homes, and Voldemort plotting with his Death Eaters. This expertly crafted opening leads into one of the more exciting action sequences we've seen in the franchise. Before Harry and his friends attempt to fly to safety, they take a potion to appear like Harry, creating a chaotic diversion for the enemy. The Death Eaters attack in a particularly disturbing aerial battle and split up to target the seven Harrys. Hedwig's death in this scene is more satisfying than in the book, because her sacrifice serves as the signal of which Harry is real, rather than a specific spell he uses.

Unfortunately, a few moments are skated over or hurriedly introduced because we have not spent nearly enough time on them in previous films (which has been fine, up till now). Scrimgeour and Mundungus are tossed into the mix rather unceremoniously, but not gracelessly. Auntie Muriel (Matytelok Gibbs) and Elphias Doge (David Ryall) have an abbreviated but memorable conversation during the Weasley wedding (oh, and we can't forget Fleur's lovely dress). While Voldemort's search for the wand is handled well, we could have hoped for more of Dumbledore's backstory; unfortunately, Yates had to cut something, and this was about all he could spare. The lack of information on this front, however, certainly adds to the atmosphere of doubt and speculation. Finally, the shard of glass Harry looks at is oddly left unexplained; though we see its significance in the final film, it still feels awkward and unsatisfying.

Talky and taut, moody and broody, this film oozes paranoia and desolation. Yates's approach even feels like in an indy film several times, and he highlights the complicated, mostly wordless emotions of our leads as they migrate through isolated wilderness. But even more typical Potter moments eke out surprising edge-of-your-seat sensations, as in our heroes' nervously funny infiltration of the Ministry and the masterful venture into Godric's Hollow (a scene that I would have dragged out longer). My favorite scene, though, belongs to Hermione's Tale of the Three Brothers, with its beautiful animation; its colors, pacing, and design are perfect, and serve as the film's crux in fabulous style. The palpably dark climax in Malfoy Manor, Dobby's death, and Voldemort's seizing of the Elder Wand make for a solid, brutal sequence and spike up the energy leading into the final film.

IMDb: The Deathly Hallows: Part 1

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2 (2011)

Score: 5 / 5

The perfect ending to the series, and a damn good film to boot, Deathly Hallows Part 2 is also one of the best fantasy action films I've ever seen. I say that for a lot of reasons, but foremost is this: Director David Yates understands that the key to any action/fantasy film is to use special effects in support of the drama. Of course, this film has more drama than most films, period, but Yates could easily have gone overboard with his special effects. As it is, the film is heavy with computer-generated visuals; Yates reins them in and darkens them so much, though, that they feel natural and essential to his telling of the story.

Though we see a lot of faces in this, few perform any noteworthy scenes, which is fine for this smash-bang finale.  Oh, and the makeup in this film is particularly great. Emma Watson and Helena Bonham Carter team up for a very funny opening sequence of breaking into Gringotts. Warwick Davis plays a delightfully nasty Griphook, and John Hurt sets a dire tone for the film as Ollivander. Daniel Radcliffe, Alan Rickman, and Ralph Fiennes own the film, as they should, in utterly incredible performances. Rickman's stony features finally crack and his dramatic power is laid bare. Maggie Smith and Julie Walters head the fight for Hogwarts in energetic triumph, and Matthew Lewis leads Neville Longbottom to a rousing victory.

The slow, talky opening at Shell Cottage perfectly bridges from the previous film, and the Gringotts madness quickly picks up the pace. Alexandre Desplat continues his great score, and Steve Kloves (screenwriter for all previous films but Order of the Phoenix) gives us his best script and dialogue yet, considering a film so spread apart in terms of crucial and simultaneous plot points. We see familiar faces and walls -- like the Chamber of Secrets -- but we also see new ones in this final picture, such as the Gray Lady (Brave (2012) star Kelly Macdonald) and the Hogwarts boathouse. All are wonderfully realized and beautifully cinematic, with the possible exception of one: Ciarán Hinds, whom I love, plays a fine but brief Aberforth Dumbledore, whose part is woefully underwritten.

Snape's stylized denouement is brave and emotional; though it doesn't get as detailed as Rowling's description, Yates views it as how it feels, not necessarily what it says. Yates's eye for visuals commands ours in this epic ending, and every moment feels monumental and eternal because he understands the drama of the series so thoroughly. The entire battle of Hogwarts is great, but my favorite moment happens as Harry, Ron, and Hermione fight through the courtyard to get to the boathouse. It's one of the busiest sequences of the film, but it is also one of the most dramatic, as our heroes battle through hell to reach the devil.

Voldemort has more screen time in this film than the others, and Ralph Fiennes owns it. His icy facade degenerates into fiery cruelty as he is forced to face his own mortality. From his bloody massacre of the Gringotts employees to his death-disintegration, we see him painted as a corporeal body, paradoxically both increasingly human and decreasingly human. Keeping with this, Fiennes's movement work here rivals his own in Goblet of Fire. His dilemma makes this film, when we focus on his character, a horror film: Besides its tragic elements of blindness, oversight, and loss, we see his body breaking down, bleeding, and suffering much like ours. His desperate grasps at divinity also reveal themselves in his dialogue. My favorite line of his happens before he kills Snape, telling him, "You've been a good and faithful servant, Severus, but only I can live forever." In this cruel corruption of what all good Christians hope to someday hear (Matthew 25), Voldemort takes his servant's service, life, and hope while attempting to deify himself.

Harry, on the other hand, fulfills his obviously Christ-like role in the series by coming to terms with himself and understanding the sacrifice he must make. In one of (if not the) most emotional twist climaxes in film memory -- which doesn't even feel entirely novel -- Harry learns the secrets of his past and the secrets deep within him. Radcliffe controls the emotions of Harry incredibly well from this scene right through his death, his beautiful conversation with Dumbledore, and his victorious return to life. What else can we say about this film? Only that it may have deserved more awards, but probably couldn't have garnered much more praise.

IMDb: The Deathly Hallows: Part 2