Review: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
There is really only one thing that keeps Order of the Phoenix from being a downright exceptional film, and that is just how FAST everything goes by. David Yates was keen from the beginning on not making the film overlong, and he certainly succeeds there. Unfortunately, he sacrifices in many cases the emotional weight of the scenes. I refer to Alfonso Cuaron as an example here, who, like Yates, trimmed as much fat as he possibly could while retaining the story's heart. But still, Prisoner of Azkaban could have been a good twenty minutes shorter and retained the story, despite all the trims. Why? Because Cuaron never intended to run a marathon. Instead he ran a series of short races, each interrupted by a rest period in which the audience digests what they've just seen. Yates never does that. Furthermore, this liberality with time allows for more emotionally important scenes to be played out in their entirety as thought-out poignant drama instead of just another plot point that must be rushed through to accomodate the rest of the film. A shorter film is not always a better film, and in the case of Phoenix, every other element of the film is carried out so fantasically that time and boredom would never be an issue in the first place. The instances when Yates does slow things down, however, are the most emotionally true scenes of the film, and most center around Harry's relationship with his godfather, which was excellently communicated and played-out despite their short time together. Way better than Anakin and Obi-Wan at the very least.
If the same type of careful craftsmanship that went into these thoughtful, moving snippets of the brief relationship the two share as went into the rest of the film, perhaps Phoenix would supercede Prisoner as the best film of the bunch. Instead, everyone is talking, all the time. "Blah blah blah blah blah END SCENE blah blah blah END SCENE blah blah blah blah END POIGNANT SCENE". Fortunately for Yates, he is an extremely adept director and can easily handle this type of dialogue-thick film, and fortunately for me I'm thoroughly familiar with the subject matter, or I might have had a stroke. So much dialogue could be trimmed, so many scenes could be expanded, and so much more could be added without the least threat of tediousness (particularly the scenes with Dumbledore's Army, which play out like a Rocky training montage); perhaps Yates will realize this and spend a little more time developing the action for Half-Blood Prince instead of simply allowing it to unfold on its own.
But aside from how expeditive the film is, the rest of the movie is quite frankly fantastic. For only the second time in the franchise, Radcliffe is thoroughly convincing in his role. Perhaps it was the distraction his hair caused, but in Goblet of Fire he just seemed a little thin and never inhabited the role until the very end. And in Philosopher's Stone and Chamber of Secrets he was just too pink as an actor to have ever fulfilled the role he played fully. But here, like in Prisoner of Azkaban, the brilliance of the directing makes Radcliffe extremely believable, as well as Radcliffe's own astounding maturation within his craft, and by extension Harry as well. (The amount of parallels that can be drawn between the two films is quite remarkable - this could be due to Yates purposely borrowing from Cuaron, but it's most likely that treated correctly as it is, the content, characters, and presentation naturally mirror themselves between the two films.)
Part of what makes Dan-As-Harry believable in Prisoner is how emotionally unpredictable he is - after all, he is a kid, and everyone can relate to being an adolescent, and thus Harry is a recognizable human being instead of a noble prince of fairy tale lore. The same is true here. Harry punches his cabinet after getting expelled, and almost starts a fight with Malfoy - a physical rather than magical threat in this instance seems all the more raw and unexpected (and all the more familiar, as none of us have actually used magic in fights. Well, maybe Jesus). Indeed throughout the film, teens are allowed to be teens. For the first time, music is played during study time (and then subsequently banned - fucking fascists). Hogwarts becomes a familiar human realm instead of a foreign magical realm, and thus when magic does present itself, its inherent, well, magic is fully attained. We can gaze at a Patronus in wonder because it almost seems out-of-place in this thoroughly recognizable world, instead of being just another movie special effect.
Add to this familiarity a fantastic directorial vision. Yates becomes an actual filmmaker in this sense, instead of just the man behind the camera, as Chris Columbus and Mike Newell were. Here is the vision and creativity of an actual man with actual imagination going into the shots he chooses, instead of a sometimes seemingly robot camera in the first two films and an amalgamation of what you've learned at film school in the fourth. The beginning of the film, which strictly inhabits the Muggle world, plays out almost as a documentary in its style (The shot of Harry and Dudley running from the rain was the first clue that I was really watching a good film, not just a good story). Color becomes very important, especially green, which is the color of the fatal Avada Kedavra curse (notably as well as the floo network fireplaces and, in the book, Harry's eyes) thus giving the entire film a sense of almost unconscious (yet knowing) foreboding of the penultimate death, which I shall not reveal - ah fuck it, it's been four years, everyone knows Sirius fucking dies.
Thematically, this is one of the Potter stories that has a real, concrete theme to it. Chamber of Secrets had a sort of vague, childish representation of racism (a rather mature theme, might I add, for "children's books"), and Prisoner of Azkaban had a well thought-out actualization of time as a theme, which is extremely abstract and confusing (yet done so well). Phoenix, however, prevents us with a theme of real-world concreteness with very real historical and present day implications, an even more mature theme than racism, almost, in fact, beyond the comprehension of the young-child target audience - fascism. Dolores Umbridge could have been played by Dick "The Hammer" Cheney and it would have seemed perfectly reasonable. She institutes unfair rules, tortures her own students (which leads to an especially poignant scene wherein Fred and George comfort an 11-year-old torture victim by sharing their own reassuring experiences), and bans literature; and in doing so becomes a sort of fictional latter-day Stalin. During one classroom scene, Umbridge instructs her students that there will be "no need to talk," to which Hermione responds in an aside, "No need to think, more like." I about got up and cheered. In this way, "Order of the Phoenix" becomes a sort of "Animal Farm" of the modern age; a believable children's story about tyranny that is easily relatable. But with less pigs. Well, animal pigs.
But alas, my opinion of the film will probably always be dictated by not how good Order of the Phoenix IS - and believe me, it is quite good - but how good it COULD HAVE BEEN. It's almost enough to have spoiled my enjoyment of the film. Almost. Now let me buy another ticket on Moviephone.
Grade: B+
There is really only one thing that keeps Order of the Phoenix from being a downright exceptional film, and that is just how FAST everything goes by. David Yates was keen from the beginning on not making the film overlong, and he certainly succeeds there. Unfortunately, he sacrifices in many cases the emotional weight of the scenes. I refer to Alfonso Cuaron as an example here, who, like Yates, trimmed as much fat as he possibly could while retaining the story's heart. But still, Prisoner of Azkaban could have been a good twenty minutes shorter and retained the story, despite all the trims. Why? Because Cuaron never intended to run a marathon. Instead he ran a series of short races, each interrupted by a rest period in which the audience digests what they've just seen. Yates never does that. Furthermore, this liberality with time allows for more emotionally important scenes to be played out in their entirety as thought-out poignant drama instead of just another plot point that must be rushed through to accomodate the rest of the film. A shorter film is not always a better film, and in the case of Phoenix, every other element of the film is carried out so fantasically that time and boredom would never be an issue in the first place. The instances when Yates does slow things down, however, are the most emotionally true scenes of the film, and most center around Harry's relationship with his godfather, which was excellently communicated and played-out despite their short time together. Way better than Anakin and Obi-Wan at the very least.
If the same type of careful craftsmanship that went into these thoughtful, moving snippets of the brief relationship the two share as went into the rest of the film, perhaps Phoenix would supercede Prisoner as the best film of the bunch. Instead, everyone is talking, all the time. "Blah blah blah blah blah END SCENE blah blah blah END SCENE blah blah blah blah END POIGNANT SCENE". Fortunately for Yates, he is an extremely adept director and can easily handle this type of dialogue-thick film, and fortunately for me I'm thoroughly familiar with the subject matter, or I might have had a stroke. So much dialogue could be trimmed, so many scenes could be expanded, and so much more could be added without the least threat of tediousness (particularly the scenes with Dumbledore's Army, which play out like a Rocky training montage); perhaps Yates will realize this and spend a little more time developing the action for Half-Blood Prince instead of simply allowing it to unfold on its own.
But aside from how expeditive the film is, the rest of the movie is quite frankly fantastic. For only the second time in the franchise, Radcliffe is thoroughly convincing in his role. Perhaps it was the distraction his hair caused, but in Goblet of Fire he just seemed a little thin and never inhabited the role until the very end. And in Philosopher's Stone and Chamber of Secrets he was just too pink as an actor to have ever fulfilled the role he played fully. But here, like in Prisoner of Azkaban, the brilliance of the directing makes Radcliffe extremely believable, as well as Radcliffe's own astounding maturation within his craft, and by extension Harry as well. (The amount of parallels that can be drawn between the two films is quite remarkable - this could be due to Yates purposely borrowing from Cuaron, but it's most likely that treated correctly as it is, the content, characters, and presentation naturally mirror themselves between the two films.)
Part of what makes Dan-As-Harry believable in Prisoner is how emotionally unpredictable he is - after all, he is a kid, and everyone can relate to being an adolescent, and thus Harry is a recognizable human being instead of a noble prince of fairy tale lore. The same is true here. Harry punches his cabinet after getting expelled, and almost starts a fight with Malfoy - a physical rather than magical threat in this instance seems all the more raw and unexpected (and all the more familiar, as none of us have actually used magic in fights. Well, maybe Jesus). Indeed throughout the film, teens are allowed to be teens. For the first time, music is played during study time (and then subsequently banned - fucking fascists). Hogwarts becomes a familiar human realm instead of a foreign magical realm, and thus when magic does present itself, its inherent, well, magic is fully attained. We can gaze at a Patronus in wonder because it almost seems out-of-place in this thoroughly recognizable world, instead of being just another movie special effect.
Add to this familiarity a fantastic directorial vision. Yates becomes an actual filmmaker in this sense, instead of just the man behind the camera, as Chris Columbus and Mike Newell were. Here is the vision and creativity of an actual man with actual imagination going into the shots he chooses, instead of a sometimes seemingly robot camera in the first two films and an amalgamation of what you've learned at film school in the fourth. The beginning of the film, which strictly inhabits the Muggle world, plays out almost as a documentary in its style (The shot of Harry and Dudley running from the rain was the first clue that I was really watching a good film, not just a good story). Color becomes very important, especially green, which is the color of the fatal Avada Kedavra curse (notably as well as the floo network fireplaces and, in the book, Harry's eyes) thus giving the entire film a sense of almost unconscious (yet knowing) foreboding of the penultimate death, which I shall not reveal - ah fuck it, it's been four years, everyone knows Sirius fucking dies.
Thematically, this is one of the Potter stories that has a real, concrete theme to it. Chamber of Secrets had a sort of vague, childish representation of racism (a rather mature theme, might I add, for "children's books"), and Prisoner of Azkaban had a well thought-out actualization of time as a theme, which is extremely abstract and confusing (yet done so well). Phoenix, however, prevents us with a theme of real-world concreteness with very real historical and present day implications, an even more mature theme than racism, almost, in fact, beyond the comprehension of the young-child target audience - fascism. Dolores Umbridge could have been played by Dick "The Hammer" Cheney and it would have seemed perfectly reasonable. She institutes unfair rules, tortures her own students (which leads to an especially poignant scene wherein Fred and George comfort an 11-year-old torture victim by sharing their own reassuring experiences), and bans literature; and in doing so becomes a sort of fictional latter-day Stalin. During one classroom scene, Umbridge instructs her students that there will be "no need to talk," to which Hermione responds in an aside, "No need to think, more like." I about got up and cheered. In this way, "Order of the Phoenix" becomes a sort of "Animal Farm" of the modern age; a believable children's story about tyranny that is easily relatable. But with less pigs. Well, animal pigs.
But alas, my opinion of the film will probably always be dictated by not how good Order of the Phoenix IS - and believe me, it is quite good - but how good it COULD HAVE BEEN. It's almost enough to have spoiled my enjoyment of the film. Almost. Now let me buy another ticket on Moviephone.
Grade: B+