Jim Broadbent and Teen Silliness Prevail in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Late one Friday night two years ago, the seventh book in the Harry Potter series hit shelves. Like thousands of other Potter fans, I stood in line for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, and though I did my best to savor my reading experience, I had nonetheless devoured the conclusion of the epic saga by Monday night - at which point I, like so many others, felt a searing sense of loss. No more books to anticipate. How could we stand it? Eventually, we recovered, and we found a salve in the knowledge that while the books were finished, three movies remained. Now we are down to two.

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince is one of the funniest books in the series. It's also one of the most emotionally wrenching. I hoped that the movie would be able to successfully convey both extremes, and though I often tut-tutted over the film's many omissions, I believe that screenwriter Steve Kloves and director David Yates ultimately pulled the task off admirably. Would I have done some things differently? You bet. But I applauded as loudly as anyone when the credits began to roll. (Fair warning: Here be spoilers. I try not to spill too much, but if you haven't seen the movie yet, you may want to skim.)

Half-Blood Prince finds Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) poised on the brink of adulthood. Within the space of a year, he has witnessed the deaths of two friends, and he knows that his nemesis, the evil Voldemort (Ralph Fiennes, who does not appear in this film), is gaining strength. Eventually, they will have to face each other again; meanwhile, he finds himself in unusually close confidence with Albus Dumbledore (Michael Gambon) as the headmaster shares several memories that shed light on the Dark Lord's early years. While arming himself with this knowledge, he devotes most of his school hours to homework, romantic entanglements and Draco Malfoy, who he's sure is up to something sinister. There's also the matter of Dumbledore's assignment to retrieve a crucial memory from Horace Slughorn (Jim Broadbent), the old potions master who has returned to his post after a lengthy absence.

Radcliffe is terrific as Harry, particularly during the movie's lighter moments. One notable thing about the sixth installment is the extraordinary amount of silly behavior displayed by hormonal teenagers. Ron (Rupert Grint) is by far the worst offender in this regard, at least of the trio, but Harry and Hermione (Emma Watson) each have their moments. There are many awkward pauses and nervous giggles, and food is constantly being used as a prop to enhance the comedy of the situation.

Up until this point, Grint has been somewhat underused in the films, often given lame dialogue and few opportunities to make a tangible contribution. Here, he is frequently front and center, and acting like a complete doofus. Yes, he's still used almost entirely for comic relief, but I'm okay with that; his performance, particularly during the scene in which Ron accidentally ingests a powerful love potion, is inspired. The film might have delved a bit more into his jealousy and insecurity than it did; his reactions to certain events don't seem as vehement as they could be. But Kloves concentrates these emotions in Hermione, which is a decision I can live with.

While Ron spends much of the movie swaggering, we see Hermione at her most vulnerable, and she turns to Harry for comfort, knowing that things aren't going so well for him in the romance department either. It's sweet to see the depth of their friendship here, knowing that the relationship is purely platonic. Harry does get on Hermione's nerves, however, as he surpasses her best efforts in Potions by following the instructions scribbled in his second-hand textbook. In this movie, then, we see Hermione at her most emotional, stung by Ron's insensitive behavior and seething that Harry is coasting along on academic dishonesty, cheating from some past student who might not have been a very nice person.

As Dean Thomas, who is dating Ginny Weasley (Bonnie Wright), Alfie Enoch scarcely says a word, but it's still a more interesting role than he's ever had before, so it's a shame that we never get to witness their break-up, or even hear of a definitive end to their relationship. He just drops out of the movie. Anna Shaffer gets a moment or two to make eyes at Harry as Romilda Vane, but it's Jessie Cave as Lavender Brown, who throws herself all over an initially unprotesting Ron, who really shows the female capacity for silliness. She spends the first part of the movie sighing and swooning whenever Ron comes near; once they're together, she smothers him with public displays of affection, draping him with a gaudy love locket, calling him "Won-Won," drawing tokens of her regard in fogged windows and, of course, snogging him relentlessly. Almost as jarring is Freddie Stroma as conceited Cormac McLaggen, whose attentions toward Hermione are as amusing as they are unwelcome. His storyline wraps up before Christmas, but not before an encounter with Severus Snape (Alan Rickman) that is one of the funniest moments completely invented for the film. None of these inadequate love interests is part of the picture by the time the movie's mood turns dark for Harry and Dumbledore's dangerous late-night Horcrux-hunting adventure, but each contributes significantly to the film's lighter portion.

Among secondary students, Tom Felton is the standout as Draco Malfoy, who for the first time becomes a truly three-dimensional character. In early scenes, he struts around arrogantly, looking quite creepy with his pale face and white-blond hair contrasting starkly with dark outfits that almost seem out of The Matrix. There's a military precision to his movements as he proudly prepares for the task that Voldemort has set him. But as the film progresses, we see, mostly in short asides that shift the perspective from Harry to Draco, that he's struggling, and by the end of the movie we witness real agony and pathos from him. I would have liked for his conversation with Dumbledore to have gone on a bit longer than it did - long enough, at least, for the headmaster to utter one of the most important lines in the series. But their encounter is riveting nonetheless; Draco has never been so fascinating. Unfortunately, his henchmen Crabbe and Goyle (Jamie Waylett and Josh Herdman) scarcely appear in the movie at all; theirs is one of several subplots that gets cut, making many of the film's events seem much more coincidental than those in the book.

Sadly, another student almost entirely absent is Neville Longbottom (Matthew Lewis), the almost-Chosen One who is much more competent and courageous than anyone would initially guess. He doesn't have an especially large role in the sixth book, but there are still opportunities for him to shine: Harry's staunch loyalty to him on the Hogwarts Express; Professor McGonagall's (Maggie Smith) unexpected words of praise during their class scheduling conference; his improved performance in light of having a custom wand for the first time; his participation in the defense against the Death Eaters who infiltrate the school as this installment concludes. None of that shows up in the movie. In fact, as I recall, he only speaks in one scene, when he offers Harry a drink at Slughorn's Christmas party, as he's been deemed unfit for the professor's elite Slug Club but worthy of serving as a waiter to its members. An earlier scene shows him at a dinner party thrown by Slughorn, but aside from sporting a very snazzy vest, he makes no contribution to the evening.

On the other hand, Evanna Lynch is positively radiant as Luna Lovegood, the ethereal, eccentric fifth-year Ravenclaw who can always be counted on to provide a startling observation. She replaces Tonks (Natalia Tena) as Harry's liberator after he finds himself in a nasty jam on the train, and though I hate the way Tonks is shunted aside in this movie, the scene is so funny and sweet that I don't mind the change. While I wish we could've heard Luna commentate a Quidditch match, we do get to see her support her friends by wearing her enormous lion's head, and her all-too-brief scene at Slughorn's Christmas party is wonderful. Quick props to Georgina Leonidas as Katie Bell for giving us what is perhaps the film's creepiest image, and I should also mention Robert Knox as Slug Club hopeful Marcus Belby, who's played mostly for laughs as a ravenous eater with a tenuous family connection to a famous potioneer. Tragically, Knox was stabbed to death days after he finished filming, cutting short a career that had barely begun.

I was thrilled to see Fred and George Weasley (James and Oliver Phelps) steal a couple of scenes; because they are no longer in school, I feared they might get cut altogether, but they share the spotlight in an eye-popping detour to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, the Diagon Alley joke shop they co-own. This early scene is pure eye candy, and it's such fun to see them careen around the shop, speaking in unison and hawking their wares, while missing no opportunity to give their little brother a hard time. Sadly, not only is Percy absent from the film, he's never mentioned at all, which would make me nervous that his storyline might not be resolved at all, except that he's listed in the credits for both installments of Deathly Hallows. I suppose we just have to wait extra long to cram in three books' worth of family tension. It's also taking an inordinately long time to introduce Bill Weasley. Omitting him and Fleur Delacour from the movie strikes me as most unfortunate; I don't see how there will be time to establish meaningful character arcs for them prior to their wedding. Then again, post-Hogwarts romance in general doesn't seem to fare too well; the complex relationship between Remus Lupin (David Thewlis) and Tonks that is so subtly developed throughout the book is distilled to one throwaway line in the middle of the movie that is likely to be as befuddling to the uninitiated as Eowyn and Faramir's hand-holding at Aragorn's coronation in Return of the King.

At least Ginny has plenty to do here. Indeed, proportionally speaking, we probably actually see more of her in the movie than in the book, since the film has her palling around with Harry, Hermione and Ron constantly, almost making their trio a quartet. She comes across as fairly quiet but unafraid of asserting herself, as she demonstrates most humorously during the dizzying tryouts for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. It's fun to see her right there in the thick of things, though it lessens the romantic tension since she and Harry sort of slide into their relationship with each other. Fans of the book may be disappointed to see that the dramatic moment in which they finally put an end to all that painful longing is entirely omitted, though it's replaced with a scene that is more intimate and subtly sensuous. Additionally, Arthur (Mark Williams) and Molly Weasley (Julie Walters) appear briefly, with Molly the centerpiece of the hilarious and beautifully shot scene in which Harry arrives at the Burrow before the start of term. They also are on hand to witness the film's strangest departure from the book. I guess this mid-movie disaster supposed to drive home the fact that, despite the frivolity occurring within school walls, these are dangerous times, but it could mean a major change for the seventh movie. I'll be curious to see how the aftermath is handled.

Among the adults, Maggie Smith has a stronger presence here than she's probably had since the first movie. That's not to say that she's in the movie much; we never see a Transfigurations class, and a couple of McGonagall's best scenes are eliminated. But though Smith is looking even frailer than usual, she never leaves us in any doubt as to this professor's formidability, and with a silent gesture in the film's last moments, she sparks one of the most moving visuals the film series has given us. I continue to be thoroughly pleased with Robbie Coltrane as Hagrid, my favorite character in the Potterverse. Though I would have liked to see some reference to the Trio dropping Hagrid's class, the fallout from that was brief, and the incident had little bearing on the plot, so I can see why it was cut. I was worried that somehow Harry's final attempt to gain the critical memory from Slughorn might be altered to exclude Hagrid, but thankfully, though a few details are different, it remains as much a showcase for the huge-hearted half-giant as before. Though elements of this scene are sad, it offers Coltrane, Radcliffe and Broadbent each the opportunity to give some of the strongest comedic performances in the movie.

I'm still bewildered by the decision to change Professor Flitwick (Warwick Davis) from congenial and elderly to young and cranky, but while he barely appears in the movie at all, he gets a throwaway line that made me laugh harder than almost any other moment in the film. Argus Filch (David Bradley) gets a funny moment or two as he eagerly performs wand searches on students, but sour librarian Madam Pince, who has only appeared in one of the films, doesn't return, so there's no opportunity for hints of romance between them. While Professor Sprout is mentioned, she isn't seen, but the one absence at the teachers' table that really stings is Professor Sybil Trelawney (Emma Thompson). Though she only appears in a few scenes in the book, one provides Harry with some pretty crucial information.

Few characters in the Harry Potter series have inspired as much study and debate as Severus Snape, and the arrival of Rickman in 2001 to color fans' interpretation of the character seems to have increased interest considerably. After a rare glimpse of him in his home environment in a scene that helped turn the question of Snape's loyalties into one of the central issues of the series, we see much less of the surly professor than many would like, but as usual, Rickman commands the audience's attention every time he appears. Snape's deliberate way of speaking, caressing each word as deep-seated emotions struggle to express themselves in his inscrutable face, makes him riveting to watch. I was especially impressed with his performance during his nearly wordless taking of the Unbreakable Vow with Narcissa Malfoy (Helen McCrory). I do find it a shame, however, that we are unable to watch Snape in action in Defense Against the Dark Arts, the post he craved for so long, and that we don't even see much of a reaction from him or anyone else to the announcement that he has attained the position at last. I also find it laughable that we're expected to believe that after he bursts in on the aftermath of a duel between Harry and Draco in which Harry does significantly more damage than he intended, our bespectacled hero is simply able to make a break for it with no repercussions.

Incidentally, this scene would seem a lot more logical if Moaning Myrtle had been there to alert the whole castle to the attack; as it is, Snape's sudden presence seems a little too convenient. Unfortunately, magical beings really get the short end of the stick here. No ghosts, centaurs or mermaids appear or are even referenced, nor are such creatures as Hagrid's brother Grawp, his bowtruckles or his hippogriff Buckbeak (newly christened Witherwings). Most egregious of all, however, is the complete omission of House Elves. Three of them play a fairly significant role in the sixth book, and two are critical to the seventh installment. We haven't seen Dobby since the second movie, and I fear that by the time he turns up in the seventh or eighth, half of the filmgoers who haven't read the books will have forgotten all about him.

While this film boasts a few fresh faces, the most important newcomer by far is Broadbent, and his performance as vain but accomplished Slughorn is nothing short of masterful. There is much humor to be mined from this professor who at times acts almost as silly as Gilderoy Lockhart, the self-absorbed ninny from Chamber of Secrets, and Broadbent wastes none of these opportunities, but he also gives us genuine emotion, whether it's terror at the thought of a long-ago tete-a-tete connecting him with some of Voldemort's most heinous crimes or grief as he tenderly recalls Harry's mother Lily, one of his favorite students. I found one recollection about Lily added for the film especially touching. Whether the scene calls for jocularity or solemnity, Broadbent rises to the occasion, giving the strongest all-around performance of the movie.

I've had my share of complaints about Michael Gambon as Albus Dumbledore, so I was concerned about how he would pull off this movie, in which the headmaster is so central. While I still wish that Richard Harris could have portrayed him, I found myself mostly happy with Dumbledore here. I still think he's too abrupt, though part of that is down to Kloves; in the book, Dumbeldore makes Harry much more aware of what is going on from the beginning. He sends notice that he'll be arriving to pick him up and when to expect him; he doesn't just show up on the street and whisk him away without even warning him they're about to Apparate. I was sorry to see the Dursleys excised from the movie when Dumbledore's visit with them is one of my favorite chapters in the book, and I was annoyed by the gruff behavior of Gambon's Dumbledore. Similarly, I found it pretty irresponsible of him to drop Harry off in the middle of the night in a swamp half a mile from the Burrow when Death Eaters are roaming the countryside freely. However, I loved his interaction with Slughorn, and in his ensuing conversations with Harry he not only toned down the bark but managed a bit of humor. Moreover, Gambon's haggard performance in the cave and polite conversation with Draco are just about perfect.

It is in connection with Dumbledore that we see the 11-year-old Tom Riddle, the boy who will grow up to become Lord Voldemort. We witness his conversation with this creepy child played by Fiennes' nephew, Hero Fiennes-Tiffin, and it says a lot both about Dumbledore's class and compassion and Voldemort's early sociopathy. The film doesn't delve as deeply as the book does, but it shows us a boy who steals and takes grim pleasure in hurting others. I think the scene could have gone on a bit longer, but it's effective as it is. So is Slughorn's memory, in which he uncomfortably discusses Horcruxes with the smarmy teenaged Tom, played by Frank Dillane.

Dumbledore and Harry's Pensieve-peering sessions are greatly reduced in number, with only two memories examined, though as the memories are shown as being stored in marked vials in a cabinet, we are left with the possibility that Harry could peruse other memories at a later date. It almost seems he would have to, for as the movie concludes, we have no reason to think he has any idea what he is looking for, other than the locket, and he doesn't know what that looks like or what its history is. It irked me a bit that Dumbledore made a remark about how a Horcrux could be the most commonplace of objects, almost the opposite of what he said in the book. Essentially, movie Dumbledore has given Harry almost nothing to go on.

It also irritated me that after having it drilled into our heads time after time that you can't Apparate or Disapparate on Hogwarts grounds, Dumbledore and Harry do both. Granted, Harry questions it, and Dumbledore replies with a quip about how it's good to be him sometimes. But it still didn't cut it for me, especially since it allowed the omission of yet another character, Madam Rosmerta, who owns The Three Broomsticks, a popular Hogsmeade pub. In the book, it is she who tips Draco off that Dumbledore has left the school; in the movie, it seems like just another all-too-convenient coincidence that he happens to decide that this is the night to put his plan into action. There's also no real explanation for why Draco seeks Dumbledore on the Astronomy Tower. Additionally, allowing such an instant getaway from the cave to the school truncated the time in which Harry had to help his ailing mentor, to the point that there was no opportunity for Dumbledore to utter my favorite line of the book: "I am not worried, Harry. I am with you." Maybe I shouldn't have been surprised, since its sister line from the beginning of the book, in which Dumbledore tells Harry not to worry because "you are with me," is also absent, but it's such an iconic quote I felt sure it would be included.

I worry that my favorite line from Deathly Hallows will suffer a similar fate. It's less iconic, and it hinges on the character of Stan Shunpike, who has not been mentioned in the movies since the third film. Which brings me to another complaint. The Ministry of Magic is scarcely discussed at all in the film. We are never introduced to the new Minister, Rufus Scrimgeour, or even told that Cornelius Fudge has lost his job, unless it was in an article in The Daily Prophet that I missed. There's no direct indication that the Ministry is ineffective or corrupt; Order of the Phoenix pointed us in that direction, but it still seems like Kloves is leaving himself an awful lot of ground to cover in the next installment. On the other hand, I think it was probably a wise move to open the film not with a conference between the Minister of Magic and the Prime Minister but with an in-the-moment shot of Bellatrix LeStrange (Helena Bonham Carter) and her crew (which includes vicious werewolf Fenrir Greyback (Dave Legeno), on whom we never really get any background) wreaking havoc on London, shooting across the sky with black smoke in their wake like a band of escapees from Smallville's Phantom Zone. It's a visually arresting opening to a film whose cinematography never failed to wow me. This is Bruno Delbonnel's first time as cinematographer for a Harry Potter movie, and I was most impressed with his efforts.

Potter fans know to expect that significant plot threads and characters will be dropped from the films, so I'm not sure how much I should sigh over the loss of certain elements, but there are two more I feel compelled to mention. While Harry does Apparate in the movie, it is only by grabbing onto Dumbledore's arm. There's nothing to indicate that he has any idea how to do it himself. The ability to Apparate is a significant milestone for a young witch or wizard, similar to the acquisition of a driver's license, and considering how much Harry, Ron and Hermione have to do it in the seventh book, it seems like this movie ought to have given us a glimpse of their lessons. The biggest omission, though, is the battle that members of Dumbledore's Army and the Order of the Phoenix launch against the Death Eaters. After Harry drinks his luck potion, the camera seems to linger for a moment on the tiny bottle, just to assure us he still has a fair amount left. I assumed that this was a set-up for the moment when Harry passes it on to his friends, asking them to patrol the corridors and share the luck amongst themselves, but that moment never comes, and thus all of Harry's protectors are robbed of their chance to demonstrate their valor.

I knew that re-reading the book shortly before I saw the movie would lead to me nit-picking even more than I might have otherwise. I was acutely aware of all the departures, and the purist in me did quite a bit of grumbling. I definitely disagree with some of the directions that were taken. However, while I would venture a guess that only about half the scenes in the film had a direct counterpart in the book, most of the new material felt very true to the characters and often managed to condense many pages worth of conflict into a minute or two. In terms of comedy and teen romance, I think Kloves and Yates absolutely got things right. I laughed aloud many times, both at the dialogue and the expert way in which it was delivered, not to mention the purely nonverbal moments that tickled my funny bone. It's in the more serious part of the movie that I have issues. Though my concerns are enough to make me wonder if the proper groundwork for the last two movies has been set down, when I step back and look at the movie as a whole, especially after removing my purist goggles and acknowledging that no two fans are likely to be in complete agreement as to what should go into an adaptation, I see what may well be the best Potter film yet. May Deathly Hallows be even better.

Hot Fuzz Gives Me the Warm Fuzzies

Earlier this year, I saw a preview for a British comedy that looked like it would be hilarious if only I could get past the violence, but it was my brother, who'd never heard of it before, who got to it first. As soon as he saw it, Nathan declared Hot Fuzz one of the funniest movies he'd ever seen. So funny that as soon as the DVD hit shelves, he bought it; last night I watched it with him, and my expectations were gloriously met.

As someone who strictly avoids horror movies, I never saw Shaun of the Dead, this film's predecessor, but if it's along the same lines - and Nathan assures me it is - I think I'd better check it out. Hot Fuzz is primarily a spoof of action movies, specifically those involving cops, though I detect a strong homage to Lord of the Rings as well, unless that's just my personal bias showing, though the discovery of the cameo of Peter Jackson as a man dressed as Santa Claus seems to strengthen my case.

Nicholas Angel (Simon Pegg) is a dour, excessively law-abiding copper in London who has gotten so good at his job that his superiors decide to send him away lest he make the rest of them look bad. This means going all the way to Sandford, a tiny town in the country where not much of anything ever seems to happen. It's won the award for best village for years, and Nick's new boss, the eccentrically jovial Frank Butterman (Jim Broadbent), assures him it's quite the safest place in England. That's not such good news for the talented, disciplined officer, who seems as though he'll go stir-crazy if he doesn't find something more interesting to do than chase after rogue swans.

It doesn't help that Frank pairs him up with his son, good-natured, dim-witted Danny (Nick Frost). Danny has more questions for his new partner than a child on the first day of kindergarten, mostly eager inquiries into the more exciting aspects of Nick's job in London. The nonstop chatter would almost be enough to drive the taciturn newbie crazy, except that, much like lovable tow truck Mater in Cars, Danny seems to be the only one of his new colleagues who doesn't despise him, and when mysterious deaths begin to arouse Nick's suspicions, it is Danny who stands by him and tries to crack the case despite the insistence of most of the townspeople that a double decapitation, an explosion, a death by church roof and an impalement with shears over the course of one week are all merely unfortunate accidents.

The tiny town is littered with colorful characters, including the obnoxious Andys (Paddy Considine and Rafe Spall), fellow cops who antagonize Nick as much as possible; the sinister Simon Skinner (Timothy Dalton), who owns an independent grocery store; Tom Weaver (Edward Woodward), who's a bit overzealous when it comes to his disdain for the living statue (Graham Low) who regularly offers his bizarre performances to passersby; unintelligible Arthur Webley (David Bradley), who is strangely fond of clipping others' hedges and collecting volatile weapons; pesky journalist Tim Messenger (Adam Buxton), who's always eager to put the worst possible spin on every situation; Martin Blower (David Threlfall), a careless driver, unfaithful husband and slaughterer of Shakespeare; Lurch-like lug Michael Armstrong (Rory McCann) and many others.

While the secondary characters are delightful - and Broadbent, always a treat to watch, is especially entertaining here thanks to his bizarre delivery and jolly demeanor - what really drives this movie is the dynamic between straight-laced, severe yet pitiable Nick, whose closest relationship upon arriving at Sandford is with his cherished Japanese peace lily, and wide-eyed, dopey-grinned, fun-loving Danny, who is brimming over with childlike innocence and enthusiasm. Pegg is entertaining as a generally composed man who learns from Danny how to loosen up a bit. Their tender scenes together, accompanied by soft lighting and Samwise-makes-an-inspirational-speech-style music, are touching, but Pegg gives his best performance when reacting with aghast incredulity as he learns the true motivation behind the string of murders.

Frost, meanwhile, perfectly plays one of the most huggable characters I've ever come across, despite the f-words that occasionally escape his lips. (The profanity in this movie actually wasn't as bad as I expected, and a special feature entitled Hot Funk amusingly dubs it for television.) As the movie progressed, I became increasingly concerned about Danny's safety, as his death would make a profound impact and might make sense as the culmination of the first true friendship of Nick's life. It would both be in keeping with Nick's lousy luck and might provide the impetus for some climactic heroics. Is Danny indeed headed for that big doughnut shop in the sky? I won't give that away, but the fact that a farcical film had me biting my nails in worry over one of its characters is testament to its genius. Hot Fuzz doesn't just make you laugh; it makes you care.

And scream, if you watch movies the way many people ride roller coasters: letting out a blood-curdling yowl whenever things seem a bit dicey. I don't, but my mom does, so while aside from the action-packed finale, each murder is immediately preceded by the blatantly ominous appearance of a robed, hooded figure, leaving plenty of time to avert my eyes, I did jump a few times thanks to my mom's vocal commentary, which came even though she too had her eyes closed. Suffice it to say that the deaths are gruesome, and the squeamish are most certainly advised to ignore the screen for a few key moments, but the vast majority of the film is perfectly benign, and the laughs and warm - make that hot - fuzzies render those brief scenes well worth enduring.

Bridget Jones' Diary is Amusing, But She's Hardly a Heroine

My first exposure to Bridget Jones' Diary occurred courtesy of the same professor who introduced me to Jane Austen. Curiously, when we watched the clip of that oh-so-British romantic comedy that found a bloated, bumbling Renee Zellweger sandwiched between suave charmer Hugh Grant and taciturn, bad-sweater-clad Colin Firth, it wasn't because of all the Austen echoes. It was because of exiled novelist Salman Rushdie, whose Midnight's Children we were reading at the time. Rushdie's auspicious appearance in the film involved him being asked not once but twice for directions to the bathroom and then being given a very clumsy nod by notoriously abhorrent public speaker Bridget (Zellweger) in the speech she makes introducing a hot new book.

By the time I saw more of the movie than that charming little scene, I'd watched a high school theatrical version of Pride and Prejudice, which caused me to notice the name of Colin Firth's character - Mr. Darcy - and wonder if this was a coincidence. Re-watching both this movie and the 2005 film version of Pride and Prejudice and doing a bit of poking around on imdb.com satisfied my curiosity on that score. It soon became apparent that not only is this Darcy's last name the same, he occupies the same role in the story, as an initially unlikable man whom Bridget, like laudable literary heroine Elizabeth Bennett, loathes and later loves. He also has a long, sordid history with Daniel Cleaver (Grant), a dreamy cad along the lines of Pride and Prejudice's George Wickham; the dispute in this case is over not paternal affection and inheritance but the fact that one of them stole the other's sweetheart, and the tide of the story changes when Bridget realizes the truth of who was wronged.

Other similarities include Bridget's relationship with her parents. While she and her father (Jim Broadbent) are close, her mother (Gemma Jones) is silly and nagging, forever trying to dictate how Bridget should live her life while remaining one of the forces standing in the way of her happiness. Moreover, not only did Firth play Mr. Darcy in the 1995 A&E miniseries of Pride and Prejudice, but screenwriter Andrew Davies worked on that screenplay while Jones and Grant both appeared in Ang Lee's Sense and Sensibility.

So when I watch Bridget Jones' Diary, I ought to be on Austen overload. Except that, hilarious as Austen's writing often is, there's a propriety to it that is sorely lacking in this film, which is loaded with crude jokes, foul language and lewd situations. While Wickham's infamous exploits mostly occurred off-screen, Daniel flaunts his roguish tendencies, and while we're sympathetic to Bridget, she doesn't come across so well either. She bears precious little resemblance to Elizabeth, who is strong-willed and well-composed, except when reduced to perplexity by her dealings with Darcy. Bridget is anxious, chain-smoking, self-absorbed and foul-mouthed. She suffers from the crippling lack a sense of self-worth, yet there always seems to be a sense of haughtiness about her. Her diary entries are so terse that they rarely reveal anything profound, and I find her insistence on omitting both articles and the personal pronoun that should usually serve as the subject of her sentences extremely annoying (though the distinct style led to a rather amusing - if equally ribald - series of "Very Secret Diaries" of various Lord of the Rings characters by LiveJournal blogger cassieclare).

Part of my general dislike of Bridget may also be due to a general dislike of Zellweger. I loved her in Cold Mountain, but elsewhere I've always found her characters, and the fact that she always seems to be squinting when she talks, irritating. No complaints about Firth, but seeing Grant as such a scallywag was rather jarring, since I'm used to seeing him in roles in which he displays varying degrees of nice guyness. Sure, he's still a handsome chap, and his charm is turned up as high as ever, so I couldn't help liking him a bit, but I felt rather guilty about it. Jones was entertaining as Bridget's libidinous, meddling mother, while Broadbent made for a tender father figure and forgiving husband. Effective while on-screen but rather forgettable overall were Shirley Henderson, Sally Phillips and James Callis as Bridget's buddies Jude, Shazza and Tom.

Bridget Jones' Diary has many genuinely funny moments, though you probably have to be English or an Anglophile to appreciate a lot of the humor. The romance is fairly engaging and could even be heartwarming if only Bridget were a little more likable. I did enjoy the film, the first, second and, yes, third time I watched it. (It's on TBS a lot. Which spared me the full force of its very R-rated language.) But given the choice between Elizabeth Bennett and Bridget Jones, Elizabeth wins hands-down.

You'll Never Look at a Wardrobe the Same Way Again...

The world could use a little bit more Magic. That’s what I think, and that’s what C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien thought when they wrote their respective masterpieces. For three years in a row, I got to see a sweeping cinematic interpretation of Tolkien’s epic, which I treasure more than any other. Last year, a dry spell. No lifelong friends, breathed into life anew from the deepest reaches of my childhood, to sustain me. A cold year indeed. But after a long winter, Middle-earth’s companion has come to join its majestic sibling, and Christmas has come at last. If the rest of the audiences were as enchanted as I was, The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe is only the first in a long and lustrous series, seven to match the number in the exploits of the boy wizard whose name need not be mentioned - a sacred number, and perhaps I should clarify that I do not mean Lewis is the good to Rowling’s evil, but rather a fellow spinner of tales so absorbing and spiritually stimulating they both invite and defy adaptation. But I have known Lewis much longer, and the glory of his natural world calls to me with more resonance than the Gothic surroundings in which young Mr. Potter finds himself. This is a film that is an event, a milestone and a beckoning. Embrace the child within that longs to crack open that wardrobe door and explore the world beyond - a world free of all the distractions and impurities of our own. Embrace the land of Narnia.

It is always difficult to adapt a book into a movie; the more beloved the source, the more likely you are to offend with your departures, though there is likely to be a large group of people who will see the film even if they are determined to hate it. The Chronicles of Narnia have a passionate following, as director Andrew Adamson and screenplay writer Ann Peacock clearly knew. How to translate the books without killing the magic? I believe they succeeded. There is a magnificence in this film I’ve not yet encountered in the Harry Potter adaptations. Instead, it begins to approach Lord of the Rings – especially in terms of the cinematography. Goodness gracious, but New Zealand has become quite the idyllic locale. Housing Middle-earth and Narnia is an impressive feat. I only hope these films don’t draw so many people to the islands that the pristine beauty for which they are lauded is diminished. Narnia is just gorgeous, and the film is awfully realistic-looking considering the fact that it’s populated mostly with characters who are at least partially computer generated. There’s nothing cartoonish about these beasts, and I think even Lewis would approve and agree that technology has finally caught up to his vision – an irony with both Tolkien and Lewis, who both treasured nature so deeply and were wary of industrialization.

Speaking of Tolkien, as I must when I mention Lewis, I thought I caught at least a couple nods to the good professor. The shot of the children and beavers huddling under a rocky overpass as they flee the White Witch is remarkably similar to the moment early in Fellowship in which the four young hobbits hide from their Nazgul pursuer. Later, the girls send an important message through the trees, and I can't help but think of the Beacons of Gondor. Finally, when the climactic battle is in full swing, a troop of eagles swoops down to provide unexpected aid. Could that be a small tribute to Lewis’ dear friend and fellow storyteller? But I’m getting ahead of myself. And so: the story. Remarkably, there seems to be very little missing, though sadly one of those things is the kindly giant Rumblebuffin, who is only alluded to with a brief glimpse of his statue in the Witch’s courtyard. However, a great deal has been added, and though I counted each departure with a bit of an inner grumble, in the end I found that most of the changes did not bother me. I have read that the director wanted to recapture the excitement he felt when he first encountered the books as a child, masking the slight disillusionment he experienced when he read it as an adult. The magic, it seemed, had gone. I still see the enchantment in Narnia’s pages, but then I never really have grown up. Adamson coaxes those who have become burdened with the trappings of adulthood to relinquish them for two and a half hours and believe again.

The story involves four children: Lucy (Georgie Henley), Edmund (Skandar Keynes), Susan (Anna Popplewell) and Peter Pevensie (William Mosely). In the film, we see their unnerving exodus from a war-torn English city into the relative safety of the countryside, where they take up residence with a reticent, eccentric professor (Jim Broadbent) and a cranky housekeeper (Elizabeth Hawthorne) in an enormous mansion in which most of the doors are kept locked. One, however, is enticingly open, and Lucy wanders into it during a game of hide and seek and there finds an object of awesome beauty: a wardrobe, ornately carved, drawing her in like a magnet (though she does, of course, remember to leave its door ajar for easy exit). When she stops brushing past fur coats and starts to get pricked by pine needles, it’s clear she’s stepped into a very strange wardrobe indeed, but she has no fear as she embarks upon this strange journey without her siblings into a world she did not know existed. Through this first trip, we see her sense of awe and wonder, her gentleness and emotional openness. For she quickly forges a delightful bond with a jittery but earnest faun named Mr. Tumnus (James McAvoy), a connection that will pave the way for all the adventures that follow.

In Narnia, we soon become accustomed to the sight of talking animals and creatures with features both human and bestial. The pristine snowfall comes to seem less enchanting than sinister, though as its grip weakens, it poses little threat – aside from in a rip-roaring river scene entirely absent in the book that nonetheless is quite exciting to watch. There are allies and enemies, and everyone seems to fall into one camp or another – for Aslan (Liam Neeson), the magnificent Lion who is the rightful king of Narnia, or Jadis (Tilda Swinton), an impostor who fancies herself the Queen and is responsible for the century of winter that has reigned in this magical land. Though this icy monarch refuses to admit it, she fears Aslan and the prophecy involving his return – a prophecy involving four humans. She will do anything to stop them from fulfilling their long foretold destinies, and it seems her job is made much simpler when she manages to woo a petulant Edmund, who encounters her alone before the four children finally make it through to Narnia together, to her side. While the fate of the land is ultimately in Aslan’s paws, the children have a great hand in it; they must battle fierce foes and their own interpersonal disputes before they can hope to save Edmund and, indeed, all of Narnia.

The cast is excellent, with Swinton most striking as the seductive witch. She is pale, beady-eyed and elegant – and as terrifying as Cruella De Vil, who seems cut from the same mold. Neeson gives kingly voice to the beautifully animated Lion, conveying both his warmth and his wrath. McAvoy is incredibly winning as Tumnus, and his relationship with Lucy is one of the most heartwarming aspects of the film. While all the supporting characters are excellent, particular attention must be paid to Ginarrbrik (Kiran Shah), Jadis’ the much-abused right-hand dwarf, and the Beavers (Ray Winstone and Dawn French), who are just as powerful a tribute to decent working-class folks as the Weasleys are in the Harry Potter books. The two bicker frequently, but always in love, and they clearly are two of Aslan’s most faithful followers. But it really is the children at the center of this story, and these four unknowns are marvelous, especially Henley, which makes me particularly happy. Lucy is just as curious and compassionate and connected to this strange new world as I would wish her to be, and Henley has just the right expressive qualities to accentuate the beauty of this character. Lucy is my favorite, and I applaud them for getting her right. Keynes, too, puts in a powerful performance as the outcast of the group. Though Lucy is always perfectly decent to him, Susan and Peter seem to have little affection but plenty of criticism for him, and it's easy to see why he would seek appreciation elsewhere. Peter is pretty much right but, like Aragorn in LotR, is far too reluctant to embrace his kingly destiny. He lacks some of the nobility he possessed in the book, and he’s too argumentative – as is Susan, though she always did strike me as a bit too bossy. In all honesty her overly grown-upness (well-intentioned as it often is) always rather got on my nerves, though Narnia eventually draws out her inherent sweetness. The three eldest children spend a great deal of time cross with one another, and I think they perhaps over-emphasized this, but it perhaps increases its resemblance to reality. In the end, no matter what their differences, the four children are family and they care deeply about each other, and that love can overcome many obstacles.

As I said, a great deal was added to this film in terms of exciting sequences, and there is much more emphasis on the battle with the White Witch than there was in the book, where it occupied a mere few paragraphs. As cinematic battles go, it’s pretty impressive-looking, and I understand the director’s choice in focusing on that, but I still wish we could have spent a bit more time in the courtyard with Aslan summoning the rest of the army. As in LotR, the best scenes are the personal ones, little moments in which the children come to appreciate one another more fully or are able to connect with their true monarch on a very intimate level. As long as these don’t get lost in the shuffle of special effects that are sure to be used liberally in the six sequels, I see no reason why all seven films can’t be equally enchanting. I for one can hardly wait for Prince Caspian. Until then, all I can say is well done and Godspeed. Narnia is just as magical as ever.

Kidman and McGregor Make Magic in Moulin Rouge

I am a great fan of musicals, so when I heard about the movie Moulin Rouge, I was intrigued, particularly since the musical has gone out of fashion even where it is most expected; Disney’s recent lack of musical numbers, particularly sung by a film’s characters, has been most disheartening. But Moulin Rouge went on my long list of films-to-see-in-the-theater whose contents generally are shifted to films-to-see-on-video, the latter of which has grown to an unwieldy length, and defiant loyalty compelled me to be annoyed with the movie when it swiped two Oscars from Fellowship of the Ring. But a hearty recommendation from a couple friends of mine and an assurance that I would finally get to hear Ewan McGregor’s fabled brogue renewed my interest, so when my brother fell in love with the soundtrack last week, I was happy – until I discovered a hearty dislike for the songs he chose to play in mass repetition, particularly Because We Can. So when his infatuation with the soundtrack naturally led to a movie rental, I was a bit leery.

I have come to the conclusion that generally speaking, I am a Bear of Very Little Brain who prefers her movies straightforward and able to be taken at face value. An overarching sense of serenity doesn’t hurt either. So I perceived the first twenty or so minutes of Moulin Rouge as an assault on my senses, complete with wildly flashing images and a series of frantically energetic songs equally conducive to epileptic shock. The headache these opening scenes gave me was not encouraging, but I noted with some satisfaction that Christian’s (Ewan McGregor) face during this portion of the movie registered a series of contortions alternating among bewilderment, awe and nausea. Ultimately, it was this idealistic young writer who allowed me to fall in love with the movie despite my reservations. Moulin Rouge is his story, one which we understand by the broken state in which we find him at the beginning has taken a great toll on him. My brother commented that it’s never good when a movie starts out depressing and then goes into a flashback. But this movie careens so madly between quiet, gut-wrenching tragedy and joyfully choreographed chaos that the audience often forgets the haunting, inversely prophetic image of Christian, a year after the main events of the film, sitting at his typewriter in obvious anguish. Though he remains throughout the movie as a device to move along the narration, he is easy to overlook once another flashy dance number begins.

McGregor’s earnest performance as the lovestruck naif charmed me immediately. His face is marvelously expressive, but I most enjoyed the glorious smiles he so generously bestowed upon the audience. With the all too serious Obi-Wan Kenobi as my primary McGregor reference point, I was startled by his dashing exuberance. While his gleaming teeth and boyish dimples brilliantly conveyed his joy, it was the task of his eyes to carry the weight of his most grueling scenes. Add to that the worth-the-wait Scottish accent and a smoothly satisfying singing voice, and you have a most laudable lead in Ewan McGregor.

But before I get accused of dissolving into fangirlishness – an embarrassment I only intend to allow myself when referring to Clay Aiken and Billy Boyd – let me hastily add that Nicole Kidman is equally impressive. I tend to get far less excited about actresses than actors, but I am perfectly willing to concede that Kidman is one of the loveliest and most talented actresses in films today. My first impression of her in the much-maligned Far and Away has been confirmed with each new role I see her in. As Satine, a performer at the Moulin Rouge who dreams of true stardom, she exudes cool confidence on the stage but lapses into vulnerability when Christian allows her to experience love for the first time. Her overly sensual antics towards the beginning of the film were a bit of a turn-off for me - though I had to admit her double-entendre-laced Tevye-and-Lazar Wolf-style scene with Christian was pretty entertaining - but when she displayed her true feelings she was a very appealing and sympathetic character. I was also impressed by her singing voice, especially during her wispy inner monologues and spirited duets with Christian. Its tone was very pleasing and seemed a bit of a throwback to a WWII-era singing style. It also reminded me a lot of Helen Reddy's voice in Pete's Dragon.

The acting all around was solid, with particularly noteworthy performances by Jim Broadbent, Richard Roxburgh and John Leguizamo. Broadbent portrays Harold Zidler, the nightclub owner who is by turns jolly and sinister but consistently over-the-top. His is a broadly comic role, and we get the impression he is constantly trying to keep things under control but never quite succeeding. His absurd performance of Like a Virgin with the Duke (Roxburgh) is a comedic highlight. Zidler comes across as a decent if slightly unscrupulous fellow. The Duke, meanwhile, is the most villainous character in the film, yet his ridiculous false teeth, pointy mustache, bad comb-over and irritating accent make him as laughable as he is creepy. And though we never want Satine to wind up with him, it’s hard not to feel a little sorry for this scorned wooer. The petrified facial expressions he offers in response to a number of musical assaults are hilarious. Leguizamo takes on the role of the Bohemian Henri Toulouse Lautrec with great gusto. He’s a wacky character whose cheeriness and romanticism make him especially likable. The role proved an unusual challenge for Leguizamo, as he had to present the appearance of being less than five feet tall.

Moulin Rouge is a musical, but it is unusual in that most of its music is derived from other sources. The film pays tribute to dozens of films with both the music used and the way certain scenes are staged. I must admit to not being crazy about most of the louder, flashier numbers, though they are very well done. Generally, the more elaborate the choreography and the more people are involved, the sillier the song is. The number in which Christian, Zidler, Satine and the Bohemians pitch their play to the Duke is incredibly complex and quite amusing. I enjoyed hearing the film’s take on Your Song and several other classics, but I found the most powerful performance to be the final reprise of Come What May, the song Christian and Satine create to pledge their love to one another. The scene that accompanies it heightens all of the emotions that have been building throughout the rest of the film, ending in a sublime moment of triumph.

I’m all for happy endings, so there’s a part of me that says I would have preferred that Moulin Rouge drop the “tragi” in tragi-comic. As bright and boisterous as the film gets, it cannot escape the other half of its description. However, it’s the quieter, more honest scenes, many of which are associated with the darker side of the film, that I usually enjoyed the most, so I won’t complain that the film went on just a bit longer than was needed to give me the finale I was hoping for. Moulin Rouge is a unique film, and it takes some getting used to. I wouldn’t even necessarily trust your first viewing to give you your final opinion of it. Stick with it, and if you’re spending an inordinate amount of time scratching your head, watch it once again, with the commentary if you’ve got it. It’s worth the extra effort.