I want to preface this article with one thing: I’m an adult. Only a few days ago I celebrated my 24th birthday amongst dear friends and an obscene amount of cheap beer in the West Village. We were all, my adult friends and I, fresh from our day jobs in an array of rumpled tailored blazers and hastily applied eyeliner (and that was just the guys) bitching about bills and laughing at our own pretentious jokes. Ah, the young, downtown suit crowd. How old we all felt. So professional. Such tools.
I thought about my birthday party after work last night as my little Rav Four barreled down 2nd Ave. at 11:45, practically breaking the sound barrier, a mangled heap of pedestrians and baby strollers in its wake. I had never missed a midnight showing of Harry Potter, and goddamn it, I wasn’t going to let a little thing like “adult responsibility” break my streak. Of course, on the cinema escalator, my wallet slipped out of my purse and my credit card, ID and Starbucks Card (NO!!) went flying. I was just about to whip out Panicked!Liz when, miraculously, a human Snitch handed me the wayward contents of my purse. His girlfriend, Sybil Trelawney, smiled sympathetically as she looked over my disheveled work shirt and straight legged beige pants that even my grandmother would call “frumpy”. Understanding, I lifted my shirt sleeve to reveal a hastily drawn Dark Mark on my forearm. Fist bumps were exchanged. I was home.
So. From the girl who brought you the Annual Potterhead Awards Volumes 1-7, comes the first part of my three part commentary on the cultural event of the decade (or at least the films inspired by the books that were the cultural even of the decade). Heeeerrreee weeee gooooo!
The film opens with an EXTREMECLOSEUP of Rufus Scrimgeour, played by Bill Nighy. No, not the science guy, the sinfully underrated British actor who sang about feeling Christmas in his fingers and toes. He’s kind of my type, Bill Nighy: you know, an older, distinguished British gentleman who looks like he’s been smoking since he was 14. (Which reminds me… how was I the only one in the theatre who cheered for my sweet sweet baby, Gary Oldman, during the Red Riding Hood trailer? Have you children already forgotten Sirius Black? Who are you… JK Rowlingafter book five? Blamo!) Anyhoo, these are dark times, but the Minstry is still strong says Davey Jones from Pirates of the Caribbean. The skies are overcast, the trio is angst-y, a storm is coming, blah blah blah. I enjoyed this (especially the scene in which Hermoine “Obliviated” the crap out of her parents) but I was disappointed by the lack of closure we got with the Durselys. Oh well, Fiona Shaw, you glorious lesbian, I’ll see you at BAM later this season, I guess.
We follow the (tragically underused…more on that later) Alan Rickman to Malfoy Manor (Where were the white peacocks? For the thirteen dollars I spent on this ticket, there should have been at least one white peacock) where Voldemort is sitting all menacing and noseless. Everyone is there because, for some reason, the Malfoys have a dinette set that sits about 75 people and that ol’ Slytherin Crest China is just collecting dust, right, so why not have a big, evil dinner party? Yaxley, played in this film by the Crocodile Hunter’s Scottish brother, is there and so is Helena Bonham Carter who, for some inexplicable reason, decided to wear a black version of the wig she wore in that abortion of an Alice in Wonderland fanvid. She proceeds to cross her eyes and wiggle her finger up and down over her lips because she’s crazy. (Does anyone else find this “Norma Desmond on crack” version of Bellatrix to be kind of self indulgent and distracting? Because I do.) Did I miss anything? Oh yeah. There’s a half-dead Hogwarts teacher floating over the table. She teaches Muggle Studies (which is totally not the subject I teach in my fantasies where I am secretly bringing supplies to Sirius Black while he's in hiding circa book three). Also, Voldemort breaks Lucias’ snake-cane-wand because, you know, you can’t let the accessory wear you.
Meanwhile, back at Privet Drive, Harry says goodbye to his cupboard (Omg…get it guys? His world was so small and now it’s so big?!? Do you get it?! Guys, do you get it?!) and The Order of the Phoenix shows up to escort Harry to the Burrow. They get through all of the exposition asquicklyastheypossiblycan so we can get to the action, like wand fights and explosions and naked Harry and Hermoine making out (Oh, I’ll get to it. Patience, my darlings). The dialogue goes something like “Hey this is Bill, he’s a Weasley and he just became a Werewolf who’s married to Fleur and guess what Remus and Tonks are also married and Tonks is having a baby and also she’s blonde.” Got all that? Good, five chapters in thirty seconds. They all shotgun some Polyjuice Potion so that they will all look exactly like Ewoks and Voldemort won’t be able to tell which Harry is the real Harry during their flight. (Guys, Daniel Radcliff looks so much like an Ewok that I want to weep).
So, the Order, identically disguised as the cursed spawn of an owl and that chipmunk from Ice Age (read: Harry), fly to the Burrow without incident! JK! There’s a lot of fighting on brooms in the clouds and flashes of red and green light. The valiant Hedwig (the bird, not the one with the Angry Inch) gives the real Harry away while she’s trying to protect him and pays for it with her life. Boo-hoo. Birds are gross. Voldemort is temporarily bested but it doesn’t really bother him that much: he’s all like “whatevs”. JK again! He stands in the middle of a field as power lines collapse all around him and he screams in rage. You know, a typical day on the set for Ralph Fiennes.
At the Burrow, Fred shows up with a hole in his head. David Thelwis shows up, pushes Harry up on the wall and is all like “THIS IS ONE OUT OF MY TWO LINES IN THIS MOVIE AND I WILL MAKE THE MOST OF IT! ARE YOU THE REAL HARRY? HOW DO I KNOW? I’LL MAKE OUT WITH YOU IF I HAVE TO!” Also, Moody is dead. Also, Fleur is French. Harry is sad because his life his so hard and he doesn’t want anyone else to die on his behalf. So, like every whinny little five year old bitch before him, he tries to run away with nothing but a knapsack. (God, I hate teenage Harry). Ron’s finds him and is all pissed and screams, “We’re not dying for you, you pussy! Well, your parents did, I guess. So did Cedric. Oh, and Sirius died because you were stupid and fell right into Voldemort’s trap. Oh yeah, and Moody died for you like, ten minutes ago. But other than that… no one is dying for you, Harry Potter! Also Bill and Fleur are getting married tomorrow! They forgot to tell you that in the last scene whentheygottheexpositionoverwithasquicklyaspossible.” Luckily, Harry forgot to pack his training bra so they went back inside. (God, I hate teenage Harry.)
Before the nuptials Harry, decked out in a velvet vest that he stole from the set of Blossom, zips up Ginny’s dress. And SHE’S NOT WEARING A BRA. Maybe Harry can lend her one of his. (Harry sucks). They make-out…it’s gross and weird. Then it’s wedding time! Bill and Fleur kiss under the chuppah and the DJs lead the guests in the Horrah as the bride and groom are hoisted up on chairs! No? Oh right, there are only Christian Wizards. Except for maybe Anthony Goldstein. I bet he's halfsies. All in all, it’s pretty boring for a wizard wedding.
Except! EXCEPT! Xenophilius Lovegood is there doing a weird, Woodstock inspired dance with Luna, and guys, he’s being played by the always delicious Rhys Ifans! I love this character and I love this man! He gets all up in Harry’s business whispering things like “Groovy, dude” and “far out, man”. He literally nuzzles the kid’s hair, eyes all bloodshot, wearing a robe made out of Marsha Brady’s curtains and Harry is thrown back by the stink of weed. Gillyweed, guys. Zounds, did you think I meant marijuana? Merlin’s beard, this is a children’s movie! (Xenophilius Lovegood is so high in this scene and it was so amazing and I wanted the cameras to follow him back to his house so I could watch him stroke the velvet posters in his black light room).
More boring exposition stuff happens. Luckily, it's a wedding scene, so there are plenty of drunken old people that could serve that purpose. My favorite is played by my high school french teacher, Mme. Schiffer, who ominously says to Harry, "Are you sure you knew Dumbledore at all?" And then she says, "Eponine! Why didn't you do your homework? Pour quoi?!" Okay, so that last part I made up. And I doubt that the random drunken wedding witch was actually played by my high school french teacher. But the resemblance is uncanny. Then Kingsly (who, in case you didn't notice he was black, wears wizarding robes that resemble a dishiki) sends a Patronous warning the wedding party that the Ministry has fallen and the Death Eaters are coming!!! OOOHH NOOOZZZ!!
And that is where we'll leave it for tonight.
In the next installment:
-We are introduced to Jack Sparrow's yummy gay wizard brother who, by tomorrow night will spark 100 stupid Hermoine fan fics.
-Harry and Hermoine share a bizarre The Big Chill dance scene in their tent. Also... THEY GET NEKKID!
-I give some begrudging but genuine props to Emma Watson
-And I give out my award for best performance of the film. (It's not Daniel Radcliff).
See you next time, post-potter depressives. It's been a long few years. You can wait a bit longer.
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