Just when I thought my cold, bleak spring break couldn’t get any more desperate, I found myself sitting for 2++ hours watching three pubescent wizards wander aimlessly through the wilderness looking for unidentified items in places they were unaware of.
I could have sat home and watched my children sit on the couch and play video games and been more entertained, and saved 25 bucks to boot!
This is the first installment of the seventh and final HP volume and they are obviously going to bilk it for all it’s worth. And bilk they did!
The reason I chose this photo from the movie is because I’m pretty sure this is how I looked while I was watching this movie – dazed, confused, numb in disbelief that I actually contributed financially to such a sly marketing scheme.
While I was thoroughly disgusted by the nudie patootie scene, I completely understand why they chose to put it in. The director probably realized that by then the audience would be nearly comatose and would need a visual defibrillator to shock us back to a state of consciousness, and everyone knows nothing does that better than unnecessary nudity.
The explanation for the need of two films to cover the final epic Harry Potter tale was that one movie couldn’t to do it justice. I audaciously argue that the amount of actual plot-moving content in this movie could have easily been covered in a tidy prologue paragraph like the opener for Star Wars.
“Not so long ago in a European country, a trio of student wizards set out on a lengthy and unorganized journey to find a collection of odd items that contain pieces of their enemy’s soul. Ron has a fit of jealousy, an awkward boogie scene between Harry and Hermine reveals that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft desperately needs to add a social dance class to their curriculum, and Helena Bonham Carter needs to get a new agent.”
That’s a wrap.
I’m not totally hatin’ on Harry, even though I confess I stopped reading after the third book. It’s just that this movie represents the very reason I dropped out of Harry Potter mania in the first place: Lack of EDITING.
When an author’s work goes wildly popular they become untouchable and everyone assumes every word that proceedeth forth from the pen is golden. Their ideas and words become more and more convoluted because no editor dares to take a red pen and hack into the prose of the almighty J.K. Rowling (or Ms. Meyer, might I add).
No writer, no matter how popular, is above constructive critique.
I realize some of the problem stems from the marketing department. When a series becomes popular they rush the production process to meet deadlines and ravenous public demands, but then the literary quality of the book is compromised.
Some publishers will even release an author’s full-fledged stink bomb during the waiting period between series volumes knowing the public will overpay for it and then have the thing half ingested before they realize they’ve been duped (did you get suckered into The Host too?)
But while I’m on my literary soap box, let me just say in defense of HP and other book-busters that I do love what they have done for reading.
In an era where a woman will walk straight into a public fountain because her attention is consumed by the glowing screen of a technology device, I love that people line up at bookstores, yes bookstores!, at midnight to buy a book.
I love when I see third-graders reach for an 800+ page volume way above their reading level and not even think twice about devouring it.
I don’t know if such phenomena ever occurred before the Harry Potter craze.
For these reasons, and the fact that I am a lowly blogger with nary a novel to my own writing credit, I give a nod to the magic of Harry Potter. Here’s hoping the final Harry Potter movie won’t deserve another nod – Zzzzzzzz.