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Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
Reviewed by Theo Michelfeld
Posted: July 18, 2007

Sorry, folks, but I’m not crazy about this Harry Potter series. Granted, you could do worse this summer. Next to Pirates of the Caribbean, for instance, this similarly-beloved enterprise conducts itself with a good deal more taste and subtlety. And no one can argue that these films are not intelligent, with their well-rendered teen heroes struggling to harness their powers and find their way in a world corrupted by jaded sorcerers. Add to that the film’s long list of classy actors, including Michael Gambon, Imelda Staunton, Gary Oldman, Alan Rickman, Emma Thompson, Maggie Smith, Ralph Fiennes, Brendan Gleeson, Helena Bonham Carter, and David Thewlis, and wow... What could go wrong? Right?

The production design, that’s what.

Now before you point your wand at me, please be assured, I am not just being a grouch here, or looking for any reason at all to bash your new favorite movie. A film’s production design bears directly on its most fundamental attribute—its watchability. Look at the films that have stood the test of time, films like Taxi Driver, or Jaws, or more recently The Lord of the Rings trilogy, if we want to draw a genre-appropriate comparison. These movies all have in common a beautiful authenticity that holds the attention even with the sound turned off. They are inhabitable films, and that’s why it’s so hard to flip past them.

But the same cannot be said of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Indeed the whole Harry Potter series is almost relentlessly, subtly unpleasant on the eyes. For instance, check out the sets. They all feel phony, most particularly the Hog Warts school (or whatever it’s called.) For all I know the place was converted from an actual mountain stronghold somewhere, but in any case it does not feel occupied or even constructed by human beings. Then check out the costumes. Most of them seem right off the rack at the movie studio. Is there anything more bogus than characters who don’t appear to have dressed themselves?

Folks, these faults cannot be forgiven as budget concessions, because they are no such thing. Most low budget films don’t have these problems, because authenticity is all they can afford. It’s these mega-budget films, with substandard artists in charge of the hammer and nails, and the needle and thread, that end up looking this cheezy. And the result—ironically, for a film about wizardry—is a failure by the film to cast any kind of spell.

Worse still is the sheer hideousness of these sets and costumes. It seems at some point—perhaps it was during some board meeting after Jim Carrey’s live-action Grinch film and before Jim Carrey’s “Lemony Snicket” project—Hollywood convinced itself that the fantastical should be associated with clutter. Nowadays it seems any film about magic must include small rooms crowded with too many objects. Just how many talismans do these sorcerer-types need? In any case, it’s no way to live.

And then there’s the overabundance of fabric. What, pray tell, is so magical about wearing one garment too many? One watches this film, and can almost hear the director shouting: “Get another layer of clothes on that kid, he’s not magical enough!” OK, England gets chilly, but one can outfit their characters without swaddling them. I’ve seen it done.

Can we agree that it is fair to criticize the visual esthetics of a thing designed to be viewed? Thank you, and I will concede that the mental showdown between Harry Potter and Professor Snape is intense, and that Dolores Umbridge’s comeuppance is extremely satisfying. This film has an upside, granted. But, meanwhile, what about those names? “Snape” and “Umbridge,” not to mention “Hogwarts” and “Dumbledore” and “Muggles” and “Voldemort.” Hey, I’m all for tempering your dark themes with whimsy, folks. But isn’t it all a bit distracting? Not one of these characters ever begins to wonder why everyone and every thing around them has a goofy name, nor do they outwardly state any gratefulness or disorientation when they encounter the character who is simply named “Ron.”

So, yikes! I am criticizing the books now, as much as the movies, which means I should probably change my name, get plastic surgery, and move to Wyoming if I want to live through the night. Maybe I’ll change my name to Voldemort, but meanwhile, to continue this dangerous line of thinking, the story’s various councils and ministries and departments and so on, of magic and mystery and wonder and so forth, seem distinctly un-magical to me. I realize there is a theme, throughout this new film, of the corruptibility of institutions. But magic seems to me transcendent of institutions, corrupt or otherwise. Sorcerers ought to be lonesome souls, with maybe an apprentice to kick around, but that’s it. For me, these films, with their cutesy “everyday magic” moments, tend to reduce the mystical to the humdrum, and thereby drain it of its own essence.

Hey, don’t get me wrong. Harry Potter is not so bad. He’s probably the fourth most enjoyable pop culture Potter, after Beatrix Potter, Col. Sherman T. Potter, and Mr. Potter from It’s a Wonderful Life. Heck, I like the kid, and I hope the author lets him survive through the final book. But these movies just don’t feel like movies to me. They feel like a bunch of uncomfortably-dressed actors on second-rate movie sets saying “Dumbledore” a little too often. I’m just not enchanted, not even for a minute. For an obvious and repeatedly satisfying antidote, see Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings trilogy. Despite the occasional mis-step, these films do successfully create a palpable fantasy world, because from director, to costumer designer, to actor, to gaffer, the filmmakers know: A movie about wizards ought to make some magic, and not merely depict it.

Copyright © 2007 Theo Michelfeld