Review: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Starring: Daniel Radcliffe, Alan Rickman

Director: David Yates

Rating: Three stars

Audiences have keenly watched young wizard Harry Potter (Radcliffe) growing up since his first on-screen outing in The Philosopher’s Stone (2001). Now, an older and wiser Harry – alongside best friends Hermione Grainger (Emma Watson) and Ron Weasley (Rupert Grint) – must battle not only with evil, but also their own feelings: Ron and Hermione are beginning to acknowledge their growing attraction to one another, while Harry is equally, and awkwardly, drawn to Ron’s younger sister, Ginny (Bonnie Wright). Meanwhile, a dark pact between Harry’s student nemesis, Draco Malfoy (Tom Felton) and sinister teacher Severus Snape (Rickman) threatens the safety of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Based on the penultimate book in J. K. Rowling’s mega-successful series, director David Yates struggles to match the tone of the previous instalment, The Order of the Phoenix, which he also helmed. Despite some stunning setpieces – including a dynamic wand duel in a school toilet that Freud would have had a field day with; and an attack on the Weasley home that ratchets up the tension – the film’s biggest problem is that little of real note happens until the final scenes. The climax, when it comes, is truly touching, but an overlong running time and an overdose of adolescent romance (as well as some uneven acting) detract from what could have been a far stronger movie.

Sp that's that

Finished the final Harry Potter last night, after crying three times while reading it, and laughing out loud so much that it drove Mike out of the lounge to his bedroom. Strangely anticlimactic yet simultaneously satisfying; crying out for a good editor; expository dialogue; scenes that dragged on way too long. And yet... Rowling captures something - that time in adolescence when hope hasn't turned into idealism, when you're still innocent but no longer naive - she catches it and runs with it, so that the books sometimes startle and delight, whether it be with the death of a much-loved character, driven home with cruelly economical use of words; or an unexpected moment of trancendent joy that feels utterly, perfectly right. *sigh*

Pottering About

What a strange but fun weekend it's been.

Friday night I had drinks with an individual formerly known under a nationality-related non-de-blog, to which he's since objected for reasons oconcerned with anonymity; thus, henceforth, he'll be known as he Who Must Not Be Named (or HWMNBN for short - thought it's not that much shorter, really, is it?).

Anyway, we got drunk - me on cider first, then hot toddies - why didn't someone tell me that adding lemon, sugar and hot water to whiskey made it so much more drinkable? Then it was on to Cherry (and thanks Max, for getting us in) and Control, before retiring - chastely, I'll have you know - to my bed circa 3am. But why are we sleeping together, and hugging so often late at night in straight bars? Hmm. Mixed signals, or me reading too much into our friendship? I'll let you know once I know...

Saturday - hangover, sleeping in, finishing reading an old childhood treasure (more of which in a new post shortly) and then off to judge the Horse Bazaar/MOMA digital art prize - and I shall never, ever tire of helping judge artworks when it means awarding $5000 to artists. Hurrah!

On the way to Horse Bazaar, the following conversation with HWMNBN:

Richard: "I just want to go to a bookshop first."

HWMNBN: "Why?"

Richard: "To buy a book."

HWMNBN: "Why?"

Richard: "To read."

Much chortling from both sides followed. No, I wasn't planning to sit in a bar and read, but when I got home, after finishing another book (the afore-mentioned childhood treasure), I started the new, final, Harry Potter book at about 11pm - and went to bed, a couple of hundred pages in, about 3am.

Most of today, save for interviewing a screenplay writer and an actor at Kent Street this afternoon; followed by oing my laundry, and having a cuppa with an old and very, very dear friend and one-time housemate, Andrea (one of the most calming and centring people I know) was spent reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows - only to have my mum unwittingly spoil the ending for me during a phone conversation at about 8pm, when I was just over halfway though the book.

Aaaaarrrrgh!!!!

I'd successfully avoided reviews and online references and discussions of the book for two days, only to have my own mum drop the spoiler! Faaaaark!

To say I was pissed off is an understatement - and mum knew she'd done wrong too; having heard me say I'd sat up til 3am reading it, but not heard me say I was only halfway though the book.

"I've ruined your night, I'm so sorry" she said, and she meant it, too.

An hour later I was - literally - in tears at an unexpected plot twist, so called her back to reassure her that she hadn't ruined my evening.

Mothers - it's hard to stay pissed off with them for long, hey?

Anyway, now that I've blogged, I'm about to return to Harry's final adventure - although whether I finish it tonight, or dodge more spoilers - and hopefully more sucessfully - tomorrow, is anyone's guess...

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

My least favourite of the books in Rowling's equally adored and despised series about the boy wizard fated to face down the evil Lord Voldemort has, surprisingly, been made into the second-best film in its franchise. Whereas previous films have been so faithful to the source material as to be dull (take a bow, director Chris Columbus), or too episodic for their own good (Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire), Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix gets the balance almost perfect.

While not quite the thrill-ride provided by Alfonso Cuaron, the third director in the franchise, the hands of British television director David Yates' on the helm of Order of the Phoenix results in a sombre, sometimes startling film in which Harry takes centre stage, the majority of other cast members reduced to truly supporting roles, save for Imelda Staunton as the truly vile Dolores Umbridge, a sadistic control freak dressed in pink.

More focussed on Harry's sometimes petulant adolescent emotions than flashy effects and quidditch matches, Yates also crafts a film with real heart, in which the stakes at play are made painfully clear. It's darker, yes, but there's also more love visible as well, as shown to us in brief but effective scenes by characters such as the increasingly likeable Neville Longbottom, and Harry's on-again-off-again girlfriend Cho Chang, with whom he shares his first kiss ("How was it?" Harry is asked by best friend Rupert Grint. "Wet," Harry (Daniel Radcliffe replies, underplaying the moment well.) Another character, introduced for the first time, and instantly making an impression, is the wonderfully weird Luna Lovegood, who may or may not be mad as hatter, but either way is an utter delight to experience.

Unlike the book, which cried out for a good editor in its opening third, then raced too quickly to its conclusion, the pacing displayed here is spot on. By turns bleak and stirring, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix has re-awoken the delight with which I first encountered the book of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone so many years ago...

Three and a half Nimbus 2001's out of five.