Still wild about Harry...
...and glad of it. Though I've done the equivalent of divorcing myself from the in-laws (the fandom) and distanced myself from the affair, I discovered this week (as I was home by myself) that I still love Harry madly. An all-night movie marathon, backtracking to favorite scenes in the books, curious surfing for any images from the upcoming DH films, a revisit of favorite fanfics, and my love is unapologetically unconditional. I am not a "true" fan, for I've been told in no uncertain terms that a "true" fan approaches every new offering with trepidation, sure they'll somehow "get it wrong." Well, it's a self-fulfilling prophecy every time. If you're looking for rats in the woodpile, you're sure to find them if you chuck enough wood around. But when you turn around, you've got a mess, and you're too damn hot and bothered to fully enjoy the warmth of that particular fire ever again. That's why I slowly retreated after DH.
I stopped reading reviews. I stopped thinking about minutiae. I stopped worrying about the translation of book to screen. I stopped thinking in terms of ships and the "rightness" or "wrongness" of them. I stopped thinking that the entire franchise--films, books, or fics owes lil' ol' me ANYTHING, and most importantly, I stopped worrying about wearing the "fanbot" label. Sticks and stones, baby. If that makes me shallow, stupid, simple, unsophisticated, childish, silly or disloyal to "canon," a word I am heartily sick of, then so be it. I prefer to focus my energies on interpreting what the artist's intention might have been rather than doggedly insisting that this or that should or should not have happened.
I love all of the films for different reasons. Columbus's versions are a rich, golden, visual feast, at turns innocent, poignant and fun. The original casting was superb. I'll admit it. I've loved Daniel Radcliffe from the beginning without reservation. It is his face I see when I read Harry, though ironically, it's not that way with Rupert and Emma.
Cuaron's version is artful and well-acted, creative, darkly symbolic, and dramatic. I loved it, but I did feel as though it kept me at arms length.
Newell knows teens. Really knows them. The love he has for and the chemistry he engendered between his young actors leapt off the screen. He brought back those beautiful jewel tones from the Columbus films, but didn't paint with such a broad brush, and tempered it all with real darkness.
Yates is obviously a true fan, wanting very much to get the characters and their relationships right. I especially see a difference in his handling of Emma Watson and Michael Gambon, whose performances have both improved. OotP was very well done, and Sirius's death scene was everything I could have wished for and more. The only thing I missed keenly was the cathartic scene where Harry comes unhinged in DD's office. It is such an important turning point, and I still feel it was needed to lead them into HBP. Probably my only significant and lasting disappointment.
I have seen HBP three times now, and I've had a chance to ponder what I've seen. Yates is loathe to cut things out of the story, though he knows he must.
The much-ballyhooed and reviled ending of HBP had to be shot that way, IMO, to set up what probably can't be shown quickly in DH. Yes, Harry and Hermione have all of the meaningful exposition, but watch Ron's face and body position throughout that intimate and affectionate exchange. Yates has him sitting apart, looking vulnerable, like he KNOWS he's got the most to lose in the coming storm. The angle of the shot changes to them all looking out toward the unknown, and though Ron joins them, he hangs back just a little. The seeds of discontent have been sown. Kudos to Rupert Grint for playing that scene so subtly and so well.
Now for the infamous shoelace scene. The book states that Harry draws closer to Ginny over the weeks and days, and that Harry admires Ginny's self-assurance--he is seeing her with new eyes. So...the shoelace thing shows us in one 30 second swoop a) that Ginny has lost her "elbow in the butter" jitters; b)that a new-found tenderness is being established between them; and, most importantly, c) that Harry lets her, looking strangely moved by a gesture that would ordinarily offend him. In other words, Ginny kneeling to tie Harry's lace is NOT an OOC act of subserviance, but rather an assertive, in-character act of direct intimacy on her part, and a walls-come-tumbling-down act of vulnerability on his. For one reason or another Kloves/Yates opted to leave out the passionate common room lip-lock (probably because they couldn't take the time to give it its emotional build-up, and Ron/Lavender had already done it...not to mention that they probably don't want to steal the thunder from that big ol' birthday present in DH) so this is the substitute for that "blazing look." The scene's interruption also serves to point out a stark contrast between what Harry longs for (love, security and a normal life) and what he is (a marked man living in chaotic times.) Yates is very good at eliciting a raw, emotional performance from his actors, and a scene that begins with that sweet exchange on the stairs ends with that heart-wrenching focus on Molly's stricken features. It was a nice addition that is meant to be a substitute for that final battle, which, frankly, would have diluted Dumbledore's death scene and Snape's revelation in reels of confusing, action-packed footage.
Dumbledore's death scene also has a sort of logic to it, as adaptations go. In the book, Harry is invisible and unable to move, made to helplessly watch. In the film, he is ordered below, on his sworn oath to do as he's told. For those who think this is OOC for Harry, at one point, Harry IS ready to disobey and strike up through the floorboards, but Snape has him at wand-point by that time. Harry must make a decision to trust Snape as DD does, an ultimate act of loyalty and trust from a kid who usually acts on instinct first and thinks about the consequences later. This does two things. First, Harry is able to demonstrate his unswerving loyalty to and trust in DD without the Scrimgeour scene, and second, Snape's "betrayal" has a great deal more emotional impact in the end. In a film where "how we choose to act" is an overarching theme, doing it this way has artistic merit, IMO. If Harry can endure doing what he did in the cave and have it turn out all right, then logically, he would see the importance of heeding DD's orders one more time. It works just fine that way. In fact, if the art of book-to-film adaptation is mostly a matter of being true to the spirit of the book and its characters, and to keep the overarching themes intact, then it's better than merely fine.
As for the books, I've always been content to let the story unfold. I approached each new volume with no personal expectations, and was delighted with all of it--even--hell, especially the parts that broke my heart.
It's okay to hate it. It's okay to hate parts of it. What doesn't seem to be okay is to just love it. And I do. Just love it, that is. We're having a second honeymoon right now, Harry and I.
I stopped reading reviews. I stopped thinking about minutiae. I stopped worrying about the translation of book to screen. I stopped thinking in terms of ships and the "rightness" or "wrongness" of them. I stopped thinking that the entire franchise--films, books, or fics owes lil' ol' me ANYTHING, and most importantly, I stopped worrying about wearing the "fanbot" label. Sticks and stones, baby. If that makes me shallow, stupid, simple, unsophisticated, childish, silly or disloyal to "canon," a word I am heartily sick of, then so be it. I prefer to focus my energies on interpreting what the artist's intention might have been rather than doggedly insisting that this or that should or should not have happened.
I love all of the films for different reasons. Columbus's versions are a rich, golden, visual feast, at turns innocent, poignant and fun. The original casting was superb. I'll admit it. I've loved Daniel Radcliffe from the beginning without reservation. It is his face I see when I read Harry, though ironically, it's not that way with Rupert and Emma.
Cuaron's version is artful and well-acted, creative, darkly symbolic, and dramatic. I loved it, but I did feel as though it kept me at arms length.
Newell knows teens. Really knows them. The love he has for and the chemistry he engendered between his young actors leapt off the screen. He brought back those beautiful jewel tones from the Columbus films, but didn't paint with such a broad brush, and tempered it all with real darkness.
Yates is obviously a true fan, wanting very much to get the characters and their relationships right. I especially see a difference in his handling of Emma Watson and Michael Gambon, whose performances have both improved. OotP was very well done, and Sirius's death scene was everything I could have wished for and more. The only thing I missed keenly was the cathartic scene where Harry comes unhinged in DD's office. It is such an important turning point, and I still feel it was needed to lead them into HBP. Probably my only significant and lasting disappointment.
I have seen HBP three times now, and I've had a chance to ponder what I've seen. Yates is loathe to cut things out of the story, though he knows he must.
The much-ballyhooed and reviled ending of HBP had to be shot that way, IMO, to set up what probably can't be shown quickly in DH. Yes, Harry and Hermione have all of the meaningful exposition, but watch Ron's face and body position throughout that intimate and affectionate exchange. Yates has him sitting apart, looking vulnerable, like he KNOWS he's got the most to lose in the coming storm. The angle of the shot changes to them all looking out toward the unknown, and though Ron joins them, he hangs back just a little. The seeds of discontent have been sown. Kudos to Rupert Grint for playing that scene so subtly and so well.
Now for the infamous shoelace scene. The book states that Harry draws closer to Ginny over the weeks and days, and that Harry admires Ginny's self-assurance--he is seeing her with new eyes. So...the shoelace thing shows us in one 30 second swoop a) that Ginny has lost her "elbow in the butter" jitters; b)that a new-found tenderness is being established between them; and, most importantly, c) that Harry lets her, looking strangely moved by a gesture that would ordinarily offend him. In other words, Ginny kneeling to tie Harry's lace is NOT an OOC act of subserviance, but rather an assertive, in-character act of direct intimacy on her part, and a walls-come-tumbling-down act of vulnerability on his. For one reason or another Kloves/Yates opted to leave out the passionate common room lip-lock (probably because they couldn't take the time to give it its emotional build-up, and Ron/Lavender had already done it...not to mention that they probably don't want to steal the thunder from that big ol' birthday present in DH) so this is the substitute for that "blazing look." The scene's interruption also serves to point out a stark contrast between what Harry longs for (love, security and a normal life) and what he is (a marked man living in chaotic times.) Yates is very good at eliciting a raw, emotional performance from his actors, and a scene that begins with that sweet exchange on the stairs ends with that heart-wrenching focus on Molly's stricken features. It was a nice addition that is meant to be a substitute for that final battle, which, frankly, would have diluted Dumbledore's death scene and Snape's revelation in reels of confusing, action-packed footage.
Dumbledore's death scene also has a sort of logic to it, as adaptations go. In the book, Harry is invisible and unable to move, made to helplessly watch. In the film, he is ordered below, on his sworn oath to do as he's told. For those who think this is OOC for Harry, at one point, Harry IS ready to disobey and strike up through the floorboards, but Snape has him at wand-point by that time. Harry must make a decision to trust Snape as DD does, an ultimate act of loyalty and trust from a kid who usually acts on instinct first and thinks about the consequences later. This does two things. First, Harry is able to demonstrate his unswerving loyalty to and trust in DD without the Scrimgeour scene, and second, Snape's "betrayal" has a great deal more emotional impact in the end. In a film where "how we choose to act" is an overarching theme, doing it this way has artistic merit, IMO. If Harry can endure doing what he did in the cave and have it turn out all right, then logically, he would see the importance of heeding DD's orders one more time. It works just fine that way. In fact, if the art of book-to-film adaptation is mostly a matter of being true to the spirit of the book and its characters, and to keep the overarching themes intact, then it's better than merely fine.
As for the books, I've always been content to let the story unfold. I approached each new volume with no personal expectations, and was delighted with all of it--even--hell, especially the parts that broke my heart.
It's okay to hate it. It's okay to hate parts of it. What doesn't seem to be okay is to just love it. And I do. Just love it, that is. We're having a second honeymoon right now, Harry and I.