Breakfast at Tiffany’s

Charm can go a long way. Especially so when it is being delivered by that epitome of charm, Audrey Hepburn. So it goes here. Indeed, Hepburn is exactly what you expect in this film. The real revelation is George Peppard, who turns in a terrific performance as Paul, the writer and neighbor who has the unenviable task of trying to rein in Hepburn’s Holly Golightly. Also starring in this flick: early’60s New York, that long-lost world that crops up now and again in movies, to the viewer’s delight and/or puzzlement, depending upon how far removed from that yesteryear the viewer is. The story achieves a delicate balance between dramatic and comedic, staying largely light and humorous while dipping into the serious now and then, without ever descending too deep into darkness; the tone never becomes a drag. Overall, the setting, script and presentation stays straightforward; director Blake Edwards plays it straight and never tries to get overly artistic in this presentation. Also notable element: it’s nice to see a cat play its part in a movie so well, and never miss a mark; good kitty! Lastly, one must acknowledge that Henry Mancini's score is note perfect in setting the mood throughout. They don’t make them like this anymore, or if they do somebody is keeping it well hidden. That’s why it is truly a worthwhile experience to take this step backwards and experience the old days and the old ways once in a while. If you too are digging for (cinematic) gold, this is an invite worth accepting. 

Winter's Bone

The feel good movie of the season it ain’t. This is like watching a Dorothea Lange picture set in motion, and with an equal measure of sociological implications in the viewing. Most prominent in this viewer’s thought: the remarkable persistence of this sort of living, even into our postmodern, allegedly advanced world. Some minor details might be different—meth rather than moonshine, for instance—but otherwise this could just as easily be a story from the Depression years as the 21st century. And that suggests the question: how do people stay in this state, seemingly without any aspiration toward some better kind of life? The implication, if not the actual answer, is that even if aspiration does exist in this sort of setting, then it has little efficacy in most people's lives. That must be due to people giving up—and, based on what we see here in a fairly true-to-life telling, then the give-up must typically happen at a remarkably young age. That's depressing. Apart from such cultural musings, what stands out here is Jennifer Lawrence in her breakout role, which was helped immensely by her bringing personal verisimilitude to her character and that character’s journey through the ins and outs of a tricky, dangerous subculture. She really shines here, both in this context and also in terms of being the very picture of someone who was bound to break out. You can put Lawrence in as many stocking caps and hunting jackets and other countrified accoutrements as you like, but the embryonic movie star underneath still shows through. Again, this is not exactly a crowd-pleaser, but the film tells a strong story with realism, fine acting, and a note-perfect script that keeps the tale moving and comes across as spot-on throughout. If this vision reflects your upbringing, my condolences; if you’re just visiting through the magic of cinema, take it in and leave with plenty to think about. 

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2

Well, that’s that. As Marge Simpson once said, “It’s an ending,” and I suppose there’s little more to say beyond that. One has to assume that every single person who has ever watched this movie—or indeed any outing of the series—knew before sitting down how things would play out, so there were no points to be scored through surprises or reveals. So this project had to stand mostly on feeling, on how well it captured the vibe of the publishing phenomenon. And I think it did a good job at that. But I remain touched by the sense that the overarching story’s turn from fun to dark, not to mention vaguely tragic, ultimately represents a kind of literary—and by extension cinematic—stumble, if not an outright failure. The latter term seems too harsh, so I guess it’s best to declare that the author painted herself early on into a narrative corner, and simply had to carry it through to the end. Fortunately, there remain further dimensions of the film to appreciate, most prominent being the fact that you get to spend one last time with characters (and actors) you’ve come to like and admire, maybe even love—though this sort of finality always brings a touch of the bittersweet with it. We must go on without Harry, Hermione and Ron, plus certain others (I'm partial to Luna). At least we can always pick up a book and give it another reading, if the separation proves unendurable. Thanks, kids, not for making magic, but for being it. Farewell. 

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1

You know why these books were so popular? They were fun. At least, for the most part they were fun. This movie? Not fun. Not saying “bad,” but emphatically not fun. This is more like watching The Revenant, or maybe even A Boy and His Dog, than watching a big-budget, tentpole fantasy production. That makes evaluating this entry in the series a bit of a puzzle. Again, it’s not bad, but it is so far away from where the saga started that you can’t help but feel that the rug has been, if not pulled out from under you, then at least shifted while you were standing on it. The dark turn of the story was inevitable, one supposes, given the tale's very linear plot; there really was no other way to go. The rapidly-aging kids do a good job with the difficult material, and the presentation is well done all around, yet this film ultimately leaves this viewer, at least, feeling like the ride he's getting is not the one he wanted. We know where it’s all going, of course, and perhaps the last act will ultimately be redeeming—will pull off the ultimate trick, as it were. 

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

More of the same, with perhaps a bit more charm—the personal kind, not the occult kind—as the story moves more into the realm of teenage angst and romance. The strength of the series lies in the inspired casting of the principal characters: the leads grow, figuratively and literally, throughout the films, and especially in the viewer’s heart. You really grow to care about these characters as the story progresses, and that is a credit to these then young actors; they may have seemed out of their depth in the first episode, but by this point they really came to inhabit their characters. You want them to win, and, if the story comes to a somewhat straightforward and perhaps unimaginative end—most of the imagination went into forming the world of the tale—that’s all right at the end of the day. Perhaps finding that you can care about fictional characters is the real magic. 

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Interesting to note about the books: as the series progressed, the publisher simply stopped editing Rowling’s text. That’s why the books got bigger and bigger with each entry. (That, and they realized they could charge more for heavier tomes.) That presents a problem if you’re adapting them into movies. Sprawling texts are problematic but viable in print, whereas including everything, kitchen sink and all, won’t work for a movie. Thus, some parts have to be left out, and you start to see that effect at this stage of the series. Some characters and subplots—or at least plot elements—are eliminated noticeably here, for the sake of avoiding a four-hour film. Those excisions don’t necessarily hurt the story—arguably, it improves the tale’s overall flow—but fans of the series will recognize the absences. Still, this outing provides an experience consistent with the rest of the series, and as we established in the earlier reviews, this enterprise achieved its goals, if little more. Meaning: a satisfying experience for almost all viewers. Presto cinemo! 

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

It occurs to me, only at this ridiculously late stage, just how dark and ominous and at times downright sad this story is. Shouldn’t really be a surprise, that; after all, the saga begins with a double murder. But that through line is buried much deeper in the first few episodes. Here, it rises up to become substantially more prominent, with the result that this outing is a lot more effecting (at least for those who remain capable of honest emotions anymore). Most encouraging in all this is that the lead performers show improvement with age here, despite my having besmirched them in the original reviews; the kids are really quite good. Notable, too, is the work of the supporting players; British acting has a remarkably deep bench, as it were. Lastly, I wish to note one aspect of these flicks that should never be overlooked: the visuals are wonderful. The scenery—both the real and the fake—looks fantastic all the way through, and represents a note perfect representation of Rowling’s vision. (Not that she invented Britain’s gothic landscape—she just put it to very good use.) Going forward, it becomes more and more apparent that this series was done about as well as it could have been. A neat trick, when it comes down to it.