While the Harry Potter series is capable of some tight plotting—Alfonso Cuarón managed two climaxes in as many hours—Deathly Hallows Part One, which is, of course, half a movie (for the price of a whole one!), sees our heroes flying by the seat of their pants because apparently only Dumbledore really had any clue what was going on, but nowadays he’s getting his jollies leaving cryptic clues from the beyond for reasons that have nothing to do with writerly notions of irony. So the entire plot is built on a tenuous mountain of guesswork, yet still we feel let down by the slog. I know we’re in lean times, but the destruction of a single horcrux does not a plot make.
There are fataler flaws: Daniel Radcliffe goes through the motions of every line like an alien trying to mimic human behavior; Rowling’s debt to Tolkien grows ever clearer, and Deathly Hallows 1: Rising Action even features a necklace that feeds on negative thoughts; Harry and friends are so lost that you’re constantly thinking how much more competent you’d be in their shoes, and this on top of the teen soap. (I feel compelled here to note that Rupert Grint admirably sells the histrionics, overcoming the dreadful dialogue in a genuinely electric performance.) Not to mention the film’s dangling Alan Rickman, Michael Gambon, and David Thewlis in our faces. Worst of all, none of its cutesy feints toward political commentary hold water because it’s all so simple: Freedom is good and right and triumphant, and racism is bad and poorly dressed.
For all his moments of inspiration, which peak here in a spellbinding animated sequence, David Yates’ Harry Potter reign has been one of reliable competence attended by overwhelming praise (relief?) and diminishing returns in the screenplay department. Setting aside the essential question—say it with me: what’s it all about?—the dialogue is utterly lifeless. In case you were wondering, seventeen year-old British boarding school boys, no matter how twee, and wizarding is certainly that, are far too creative with their epithets to be content with a “Hey, losers.” Splinch-dick, on the other hand,
End of Part One of this review. Pay again next year for the rest.
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