Cinema Hype

What is there to say about Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix? Come to think of it, what is there to say about any of the Harry Potter movies? I’m always torn about them: I like the idea of them, but somehow they never quite live up to my expectations. Essentially, I always forget that they are bound to be incomplete tellings of stories I already know. Things aren’t getting any easier, either–the plot keeps getting more complex and the cast of characters is officially enormous by the time we’ve hit number five. How is any director to cram all of those people and all of those events in without compressing them completely?

The answer is, he isn’t. Or at least, this director isn’t. HPOotP–as the film shall now officially be called around CHHQ–introduces a whole gaggle of new characters, and director David Yates gives all but the most important a moment of screen time and then moves on. Same with the story; HPOotP is the longest Harry Potter novel and the shortest Harry Potter movie, so you do the math on what gets cut. To be honest, though, the ruthless edit isn’t such a bad thing. The first half of the novel is entirely too long, and Harry is at the pinnacle of his fifteen-year-old obnoxious spell, and the movie audience escapes both of those scot-free. In fact, the movie turns out to be pretty efficient: it’s fast-paced but it squeezes in the most important emotional truths, and hits the high points in between. Any Harry Potter fan should be reasonably satisfied with this adaptation.

This installment of the Harry Potter series is nice because Yates doesn’t seem tied to some of the conventions of the previous four. There is no Quidditch in this movie, which probably irritated a lot of people, but how much flying around do we really need to see at this point? The Sorting Hat is gone, and the first-years seem to be nowhere in sight. We barely see Platform 9 3/4, but it’s okay. By this time, we know the routine. It’s time to move on to the meat of the story, and anyway, things around Hogwarts are changing. Best not to get too attached to the idylls of the first few films.

On the other hand, the climax of the film is the least inspiring segment. Much of the action is pretty spectacular, but this is one instance where an extra ten minutes would have been worth it. The story in HPOotP is about teamwork. It’s about faithfulness. Harry’s friends insist on going off to the final adventure of the novel with him, but end up doing a lot of hurrying up and waiting while Harry does most of the fighting. A better model might have been to give each of the Hogwarts kids a moment to shine, which would have reinforced the importance of Harry’s friends as backup. Instead, they just make concerned-looking hostages.

Aside from the nitty-gritty of the plot, half the fun of the Harry Potter movies is the casting–who’s playing who and how. The casting in this film, with one major exception, is spot-on. I have been skeptical about any director pulling off a convincing Dolores Umbridge, because the Umbridge in my head is animated–if you must know, she’s the crazy frog-monster chick from Monsters, Inc. stuffed into a series of pink suits and given a different haircut. I should never have doubted Imelda Staunton. She’s perfect: sticky-sweet and completely terrifying, all at once. And then there’s Luna Lovegood. I have to admit that I’m not sure the “picking random children out of the crowd” model of casting has worked out so well for the Harry Potter casting folks so far, but Evanna Lynch is, well, perfect. She looks perfect and she sounds perfect and she has the aimless but perceptive nature absolutely down. I spent half the movie watching her in the background, just because she was so consistently good. More Loony Lovegood, I say!

The only casting misstep in HPOotP is, unfortunately, kind of a big one. Or, to be specific, it will be later on. I see the logic behind choosing Helena Bonham Carter (crazy brunette? Check) to play Bellatrix Lestrange, but the film’s take on Bellatrix rubs me the wrong way from start to finish. There are so many other crazy British brunettes they could have chosen–why not Eva Green? She could have worn her everyday makeup and not changed a thing. Or maybe Rachel Weisz pretending to be something besides beautiful and charming? Someone glamorous and deliberately evil would have been far creepier than Bonham Carter’s straight-out-of-Azkaban crazy. I mean, the woman could at least wash her hair. Come on.

In all, HPOotP is a good installment in a series that keeps getting a little better each time. Yates has signed on for the sixth film, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and I expect him to do good things.

Harry Potter, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Noir is as noir does;
Owen and Miller try to
out-gritty us all.

What could be cooler than a series of adaptations of Raymond Chandler’s classic detective novels, starring Clive Owen? How about a series of adaptatios of Raymond Chandler’s classic detective novels, starring Clive Owen and directed by Frank Miller, minor deity of all things noir?

This….could be good.

Thank goodness for IMDB: I was linking to British director Gurinder Chadha last night and saw that she’s signed up to direct an adaptation of Louise Rennison’s totally hilarious young-adult novel Angus, Thongs, and Full-Frontal Snogging. ATFFS–as we insiders call it–is the kind of book that could easily lose its soul in the Hollywood grindhouse; it’s a smart, funny look at adolescent girlhood, and we at CH are a little afraid that it might get the Nancy Drew blandification treatment. It’ll take a strong, genuine voice to keep the story and the humor on track. But Chadha, who has won our undying love and respect with the climax sequence of Bend It Like Beckham, is surely the right woman for the job.

Plus, she’ll teach you to make aloo ghobi if you watch her DVD. We can’t argue with that.

I’ve been watching Pride and Prejudice this week. It’s part of my Keira Knightley film festival, but I’ve gotten stuck. You see, I have Domino sitting next to the DVD player, ready to go. But have I moved on? I have not.

And I need to confess something: when the movie came out–a mere two years ago!–I was a Pride and Prejudice snob. I had, along with many others, attached myself to the Mother of All Pride and Prejudice Adaptations, the six-hour BBC miniseries that launched a thousand Colin Firth wet-shirt fantasies. After all, how could they re-adapt the great Pride and Prejudice? After less than a decade? Who would have the gall to follow that stunning, encyclopedic act?

But what I’ve found is that, for better or for worse, I have a hard time saying no to Elizabeth Bennet, her embarrassing family, and her emotional duel/love affair with Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. The 2005 version isn’t the most complete, and it’s not the most serious, but it hits all the high points (with some glorious cinematography, I might add), and somehow that seems to be all I need. And so, for all of the P&P fans and P&P fans-to-be, I present a comprehensive history of Pride and Prejudice on film.

Pride and Prejudice (1938): The original Austen mini-series, adapted even before the big-screen crowd got a hold of it. Starring a woman called Curigwen, who was surely destined for great fame until her parents stepped in and chose a name.

Pride and Prejudice (1940): Before there was Firth, there was Olivier, who can only have been fabulous opposite Greer Garson. Probably the only time Jane Austen and Aldous Huxley share writing credit on anything.

Pride and Prejudice (1952): Of absolutely no note except that Mr. Darcy is played by the utterly fantastic Peter Cushing! I had no idea! Imagine: Grand Moff Tarken, being an ardent admirer! The mind, it boggles! So many exclamation points! But worth every one of them!

Pride and Prejudice (1958) and (1967): Probably fine adaptations, but lacking in weird, famous screenwriters or any kind of famous cast. The age of the mini-series before HBO, apparently.

Pride and Prejudice (1980): The predecessor to the current BBC version. There’s not a single recognizable name (or photographic IMDB entry) in the cast, but I know at least one person who loves this version. Worth a look, ostensibly.

Pride and Prejudice (1995): I think we all know how I feel about this one. Need I go on?

And then there are the P&P knock-offs: the references, the similar-tos, and the updated versions.

Bridget Jones’s Diary: Wherein The Firth reprises his role and gets into the best nerd-brawl ever to grace the big screen, and Mr. Wickham is a tangerine-tinted buffoon. Highly recommended.

Pride and Prejudice (2003): How did I miss this the first time around? (Not to be snotty, or anything, but: Good sense, perhaps?) Pride and Prejudice in present-day America. Hmmm.

Bride and Prejudice: The Bennets go Bollywood! This one hasn’t made its way to CHHQ yet, but it’s apparently pretty good. And Sayid from LOST (Naveen Andrews) plays Mr. Bingley, so how bad can it be? Also, random appearances by Ashanti–the mark of a fine film, I always say–and Alexis Bledel as Georgiana Darcy. Oh! And Gurinder Chadha directed, and she’s all-around excellent. So good things all around.

That’s all. If you need me, I’ll be on the couch, waiting for the big rejection scene. PAIN!

I’m sure that if I ever become bored with making up random movie-related blog posts, I could probably keep up an entire blog about literary adaptations. It’s a never-ending stream: we’re never going to run out of books to adapt, as long as the writers keep writing and the filmers keep filming. Since I’m not bored of making up random movie-related posts, though, I’ll just use a reference provided by someone else: check out this list, from The Book Stacks, of upcoming book adaptations to see what’s coming down the pike.

And I must say: The Second Summer of the Sisterhood? Hmmm. It’s my favorite Pants book, but a) they’d better re-cast, since they’ll all be 35 by then, and b) DON’T SCREW IT UP.

That is all.

Eric Bana to
come and go; also give up
sex-symbol status?

It’s come to our attention here at CH headquarters that Hollywood has seen fit to adapt one of our favorite recent reads to the big screen: Audrey Niffenegger’s The Time Traveler’s Wife, which manages to be massively appealing and impressively well-written, all at once–think beach reading with a brain. There are essentially two characters in The Time Traveler’s Wife–aside from a few tertiary characters, it’s all about Clare Abshire and Henry DeTamble, and pretty much nobody else–so we hope the cosmic They have thought long and hard about the casting for this movie.

We’re not sure they have. Maybe. We don’t know. Clare will be played by Rachel McAdams, who doesn’t have red hair, but we suppose there’s such a thing as hair dye, and it’s not like red hair is a key plot point. Also, we love all things McAdams, and think she’ll make a lovely Clare. But then there’s Henry, who’s been matched up with Eric Bana. We like Bana. We really do. But isn’t he a little….we don’t know, hunky for the role? Isn’t Henry supposed to be a little more like Rob Gordon from High Fidelity? Kind of, well, scrawny and balding? We’re reserving judgment. Bana is, after all, a fine actor and a nice-looking man. He just doesn’t strike us as the Chicago rock-scene type. On the other hand, we’re willing to be convinced.

I am convinced that there is an entire generation in the world today that doesn’t understand the theoretical hotness of Robert Redford. Same with Jane Fonda. It’s not our fault–we were born in the 80s, or later. To us, Redford is a Prius-driving, suntanned ex-cowboy who makes the occasional movie. Fonda is the aerobics queen. What do you want from us?

What this generation needs, I say, is a good viewing of Barefoot in the Park, Neil Simon’s 1968 New York romantic comedy. Before Redford started wearing those silly glasses and Fonda broke out the leotard, they were young. Attractive. Modern. Adorable, really. They were people we would certainly have wanted to hang out with.

That’s part of the basis of Barefoot in the Park: Paul and Corie Bratter (Redford and Fonda) get married, spend six days on their honeymoon, and then settle into a weird Greenwich Village apartment and start on the business of combining their lives. Fonda is all free-spirited, dragging her conservative (but very good-looking) new husband along with her in an endearing but slightly insensitive way. There are wacky neighbors and a hole in the skylight, and it’s all kind of charming, because we know those crazy kids will work it out. It’s like Dharma and Greg in 1968, and it’s thoroughly, thoroughly watchable.

The thing about Barefoot in the Park is that Simon’s screenplay makes everything look so easy. It’s a simple story told without flourish by a small cast of characters–it’s not a movie about fanfare, elaborate setting, or riding off into the sunset. There are just characters, and the characters rub up against each other (literally and emotionally) in a small space, and there you have it. There is nothing epic here, just small problems, the same things everybody goes through. How can a movie be so easy?

And yet that same simplicity is also what makes the movie satisfying. Without any other embellishments to distract, the audience is left with the Bratters and their situation. There’s nothing to do but stare at them as they love and fight and learn and regress and ultimately grow, and Simon’s script doesn’t try to cheat. He does the work, drags his characters with him, and lets us hope that it all works out in the end. It’s a kind of writerly honesty that only makes us admire him all the more.

That, and the casting of the cutest couple the 60s had ever seen.

classic movies, robert redford, jane fonda, barefoot in the park, neil simon, stage plays, romantic comedies

Why doesn’t anybody make movies from stage plays anymore? I mean, there are the high-profile faux-Broadway spectaculars (Evita, Phantom of the Opera), and there’s….well, there’s Closer, which among other things was a testament to the potential shock value of words alone. But what happened to appreciating snappy dialogue and well-developed characters, and bringing them both to the big screen? Novels are constantly adapted to film; stage plays should have the one-up on novels, having already been formatted without all of that–what’s it called? Oh, right, “narration.” People love stage plays, and just where do we think we got The Odd Couple? Instead, film-specific writers continue to look inside of their own industry, forget all of the people writing brilliant scripts for the stage, and we end up with Soul Plane instead of Jersey Boys, and are probably all a little worse for the experience.

Tomorrow: thoughts on Neil Simon’s Barefoot in the Park, proof enough that stage plays make perfectly charming movies, and that a fine script goes a long way.

Cormac McCarthy has made it. Finally! Success! A reputation for harsh, beautiful writing about the American West! Cash money! Now, I hear what you’re saying. Sure, he’s already won a Guggenheim and a MacArthur grant. Oprah loves him. And yes, I suppose he did win the 2007 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction yesterday, and I’m sure that was a very touching moment for him. But I think we all know the real high point of McCarthy’s career: the day he received an IMDB entry of his very own.

According to the Database on High, only one of McCarthy’s eleven novels and two plays has been adapted to film so far: 2000’s All the Pretty Horses, starring Matt Damon and improbably directed by Billy Bob Thornton. But that’s about to change–Blood Meridian and No Country for Old Men (directed by the Coen brothers!) are slated for the big screen in the next two years.

Yes, McCarthy’s time has come: his time for fame, fortune, and worldwide readership. Now if only he could get a picture on his profile.

The Namesake’s trailer:
attracts readers better than
a Pulitzer prize.

Three situations in which one is bound to come up empty-handed: 1) Hallmark at eight p.m. on Valentine’s Day; 2) the pie section of Costco on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving; and 3) the public library anytime someone adapts a novel for the screen. Ever tried to check out a Harry Potter book to refresh the old memory for the movie? What about The Devil Wears Prada any time last year? It’s like trying to get chocolate during the Blitz.

This is the power of a really good trailer: the movie becomes not enough. Suddenly the film looks shiny and colorful and new, but shouldn’t the book be even better? A good trailer reminds the audience that perhaps if the light were a little better, they could crack open a brand new copy of whatever’s showing next.