[Begin Spoiler for This post is still about Harry Potter. — Highlight to view]
I liked all the parts that everyone else liked. You know, Neville. McGonagall. The things.
The part that almost got me, though? Like, I mean, the part where a warm tear threatened to squeak from the far corner of my eye? Seeing the Cornish pixie and the Devil's Snare in the Room of Requirement. Aww. All this stuff.
Also, and I mentioned this before when the trailer came out, but I don't think it was in the proper venue. You know how in Goblet of Fire, there's the showdown in the graveyard, and priori incantatem, and the wands connect and all that? And remember how there's more unintentional comedy because Harry looks like he's struggling for control with all he's got and Voldemort -- though looking equally under strain -- is holding on to his wand with, like, two fingers? I have never been able to take that scene seriously.
But I have a strange retroactive affection for it now, because during the final showdown, Harry is holding strong with only one arm. And that is a stupendous, visceral image.
I thought other things, too, obviously, but what else am I really going to say?
[End Spoiler]
In other news, can we please start losing our shit about The Hobbit? I feel like I've been patient for a long time, but now I really must insist.
Sunday
Wednesday
Guess what this post is about.
I don't update my blog!? You don't update your blog.
[Begin Spoiler for What are these spoilers about? — Highlight to view]
It was okay.
That's such a let down! I really feel like I should have more to say, but the most pressing thing that I feel the need to utter about the final Harry Potter film is: "It was okay." Maybe I'm doing it wrong.
I saw it twice. Once in 3D because they really want you to see it in 3D. It was better the second time. I think that's because I knew what to expect. The first time around, I didn't (I mean, I did, obviously, but not how the path to get there would look) and sitting there wondering "what happens next?" was not a pleasant experience at all. It wasn't a thrilling, shovelling-popcorn-into-your-mouth kind of "what happens next?" it was a "well... this is awkward" sort of "what happens next?"
I'm blaming David Yates because I don't know whom else to blame. I mean, I think there's some debate to be had in here about the limits of verisimilitude as it relates to creating art, but I'm not jazzed enough to have that conversation.
I idly wonder if, maybe in ten years or so, the series can be redone. Not reshot, you understand. Not recast. Remastered, maybe. Alt takes. Different editing. Digitally making young Lily's eyes not brown. You know.
My God, you guys. Can you believe that shit with Lily's eye color? The unintentional humor quotient was so high. I'm not exactly sure what color Geraldine Somerville's eyes are, because she's always in sepia memory foam, but you can at least tell that they are light-colored. Close enough. And if you recall that Albus was the only one of Harry's children to inherit Lily's eyes, it is really rather awesome when the epilogue scene rolls around and Daniel Radcliffe and his pretend son have the exact same color eyes. And, I mean, I don't want to even pretend to be one of those people to whom hair and eye desperately matter, but we had reached the actual, literal moment when "You have your mother's eyes" pays out, and BAM! brown-eyed baby Lily. If I may ... lol.
Speaking of which, I love the epilogue. Always have always will. Whatevs.
On the most positive end, every performance was flawless. Alan Rickman was for once not under-utilized, and you could practically hear him shout "Fucking finally" through his performance. This movie also renewed my desire to one day be bffs with Daniel Radcliffe. Is it weird to be proud of someone you've never met? Probably. I want to draw hearts around his face in the most non-romantic yet soul-mate-ish way possible. This adds to my conviction that there must have been a shinier diamond to be cut from this raw material.
I mean, ten goddamn years and all you see is the back of Ron's head. I ask you.
[End Spoiler]
[Begin Spoiler for What are these spoilers about? — Highlight to view]
It was okay.
That's such a let down! I really feel like I should have more to say, but the most pressing thing that I feel the need to utter about the final Harry Potter film is: "It was okay." Maybe I'm doing it wrong.
I saw it twice. Once in 3D because they really want you to see it in 3D. It was better the second time. I think that's because I knew what to expect. The first time around, I didn't (I mean, I did, obviously, but not how the path to get there would look) and sitting there wondering "what happens next?" was not a pleasant experience at all. It wasn't a thrilling, shovelling-popcorn-into-your-mouth kind of "what happens next?" it was a "well... this is awkward" sort of "what happens next?"
I'm blaming David Yates because I don't know whom else to blame. I mean, I think there's some debate to be had in here about the limits of verisimilitude as it relates to creating art, but I'm not jazzed enough to have that conversation.
I idly wonder if, maybe in ten years or so, the series can be redone. Not reshot, you understand. Not recast. Remastered, maybe. Alt takes. Different editing. Digitally making young Lily's eyes not brown. You know.
My God, you guys. Can you believe that shit with Lily's eye color? The unintentional humor quotient was so high. I'm not exactly sure what color Geraldine Somerville's eyes are, because she's always in sepia memory foam, but you can at least tell that they are light-colored. Close enough. And if you recall that Albus was the only one of Harry's children to inherit Lily's eyes, it is really rather awesome when the epilogue scene rolls around and Daniel Radcliffe and his pretend son have the exact same color eyes. And, I mean, I don't want to even pretend to be one of those people to whom hair and eye desperately matter, but we had reached the actual, literal moment when "You have your mother's eyes" pays out, and BAM! brown-eyed baby Lily. If I may ... lol.
Speaking of which, I love the epilogue. Always have always will. Whatevs.
On the most positive end, every performance was flawless. Alan Rickman was for once not under-utilized, and you could practically hear him shout "Fucking finally" through his performance. This movie also renewed my desire to one day be bffs with Daniel Radcliffe. Is it weird to be proud of someone you've never met? Probably. I want to draw hearts around his face in the most non-romantic yet soul-mate-ish way possible. This adds to my conviction that there must have been a shinier diamond to be cut from this raw material.
I mean, ten goddamn years and all you see is the back of Ron's head. I ask you.
[End Spoiler]
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
