Engorgio!
What do you know: size really does matter. Just saw Goblet of Fire in IMAX, and:
Oooooooooooooooh.
Wow.
Hmmm. You know, this size business is one way that Movies Are Different From Books. Is there some equivalent in written narrative to the transformed experience you get when Harry is two or three stories tall and the dragon is approximately the size of Rhode Island? Hmmmm. I dunno.
It's tempting to think of this difference in visual scale as somehow analogous to the difference between a novel-length story and a short story: the novel is richer in detail, bigger in scope -- just bigger. So perhaps there's a greater chance that the novel will overwhelm you in a good way, to the extent that you lose track of the outside world and soak in the story's world. Do BIG movies work the same way as long stories? Well, yeah, kind of. As in a novel, in a BIG movie there are (or seem to be) more details: you can see the embroidery in Dumbledore's hat, and it's easier to let your eyes wander and take in elements of the background that you otherwise might not notice. You can see, too, particularly clever touches from the special effects department that make you think the magic is real: for example when an exhausted Harry flies back to collect the egg, and when the camera switches to his point of view you can see his reflection in the egg. Wow! *gulp* It really happened, didn't it?
Well, maybe. The analogy between BIG MOVIE and LONG STORY seems a bit fishy to me, in a way I can't quite pin down at the moment. Possibly my brain is not working well because in the case of this particular movie you can make the case that the size of the image does matter. So much of GoF, book and movie, is about the uniquely teenaged horror of being looked at. Harry doesn't want to be a spectacle, but time and time again, he is. He's constantly being stared at: by the other students when they think he cheated, by the readers of the Daily Prophet, by EVERYONE when he has to dance at the ball, by Myrtle in the bath scene, by the spectators at the various tasks -- and finally and most invasively, by Voldemort, who can see Harry in Harry's dreams, and who finally can not only see him, but touch him, take his blood, invade him.
GoF is haunted by a terror of exposure -- and maybe this is why the apparently incongruous ball scene makes perfect emotional sense: being put on display at a party is just as much of a trial, if not more of one, than anything else Harry faces. He's a spectacle, and for Harry Potter that horrible realization is an inevitable part of his growth into his role as a hero (heroes, by their nature, are always on display).
"I'm not READY for this," Harry says to Sirius at one point. Who would be? And maybe the BIG movie helps make that point. When Harry is two stories tall, and when his every pore, every drop of sweat, every tear is exposed to a curious audience, somehow his terror seems even more heart-wrenching, and even more justified, than ever.
Oooooooooooooooh.
Wow.
Hmmm. You know, this size business is one way that Movies Are Different From Books. Is there some equivalent in written narrative to the transformed experience you get when Harry is two or three stories tall and the dragon is approximately the size of Rhode Island? Hmmmm. I dunno.
It's tempting to think of this difference in visual scale as somehow analogous to the difference between a novel-length story and a short story: the novel is richer in detail, bigger in scope -- just bigger. So perhaps there's a greater chance that the novel will overwhelm you in a good way, to the extent that you lose track of the outside world and soak in the story's world. Do BIG movies work the same way as long stories? Well, yeah, kind of. As in a novel, in a BIG movie there are (or seem to be) more details: you can see the embroidery in Dumbledore's hat, and it's easier to let your eyes wander and take in elements of the background that you otherwise might not notice. You can see, too, particularly clever touches from the special effects department that make you think the magic is real: for example when an exhausted Harry flies back to collect the egg, and when the camera switches to his point of view you can see his reflection in the egg. Wow! *gulp* It really happened, didn't it?
Well, maybe. The analogy between BIG MOVIE and LONG STORY seems a bit fishy to me, in a way I can't quite pin down at the moment. Possibly my brain is not working well because in the case of this particular movie you can make the case that the size of the image does matter. So much of GoF, book and movie, is about the uniquely teenaged horror of being looked at. Harry doesn't want to be a spectacle, but time and time again, he is. He's constantly being stared at: by the other students when they think he cheated, by the readers of the Daily Prophet, by EVERYONE when he has to dance at the ball, by Myrtle in the bath scene, by the spectators at the various tasks -- and finally and most invasively, by Voldemort, who can see Harry in Harry's dreams, and who finally can not only see him, but touch him, take his blood, invade him.
GoF is haunted by a terror of exposure -- and maybe this is why the apparently incongruous ball scene makes perfect emotional sense: being put on display at a party is just as much of a trial, if not more of one, than anything else Harry faces. He's a spectacle, and for Harry Potter that horrible realization is an inevitable part of his growth into his role as a hero (heroes, by their nature, are always on display).
"I'm not READY for this," Harry says to Sirius at one point. Who would be? And maybe the BIG movie helps make that point. When Harry is two stories tall, and when his every pore, every drop of sweat, every tear is exposed to a curious audience, somehow his terror seems even more heart-wrenching, and even more justified, than ever.