Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Grade: C

He is such a snob. No taste whatsoever. Pompous ass. When I go to the movies, I want to be entertained. What an elitist.

Blah, blah, blah…

Say what you will – and you will – this is one boring ass movie.

Before you say another word, you will please remember that I was a fanatic of J.K. Rowling’s long before most people had the vaguest notion of a lightning bolt on anyone’s forehead. I withstood the taunts and belittling of family, friends and colleagues alike for reading “children’s books” until, like the wave of a magic wand, the phenomenon began and I became merely one of the multitudes. Don’t accuse me of not having a whimsical heart.

If you feel the need to point a finger at anyone, the screenwriter might be a good place to start. For three straight movies in a row, Steven Kloves has been utterly unable to capture the essence of some very magical books and adapt them into worthy screenplays. Not unlike a Dementor hunting his prey, Kloves ably helps the films’ directors suck the very air out of Rowling’s characters and storylines.

To be fair, this one must be given credit for attempting to be more adult and multidimensional than its predecessors. There is a somber, overcast mood and grainier look that is initially quite promising, a darker aura foreshadowing a grave and uncertain future. Yet the film quickly becomes maudlin and plodding under so much weighty import. Kids will fidget from the tedious and dour pace, adults will yawn and check their watches (I wasn’t the only one) over the drawn out running length. The performances don’t help much, with three young adults who won’t be working much in years to come – I hope they’re getting paid well now – equally matched by a group of better known thespians who seem to be phoning in goofily, scene chewing, oddly bored work (Michael Gambon is a total dud of a Dumbledore, whereas Emma Thompson is “so funny I forgot to laugh” slapstick as the big toothed, coke bottle glasses divination professor). Special effects range from sweetly whimsical to a bad mix of claymation and animation, and never once do we feel transported off of a soundstage (replete with painted styrofoam forests and background lakes with nonmoving water) and into the magical land of Hogwarts.

I fear my life will be in danger for even saying this, but I can’t help but wonder if Rowling’s books musn’t share at least some of the blame here. I adore them and have happily stood in line at Barnes & Nobles at the chimes of midnight to be among the first to buy a copy, but even the most ardent fan must concede they are overly verbose, rambling and somewhat lacking in structure, generally leaving exposition and explanation to a Dumbledore lecture in the final chapter – the fact that she’s not a slave to receiving an A+ grade in a “Creative Writing” class are part of the book’s overall charm. For a film version to soar overhead like a Hippogriff, studio heads must first have the guts to risk the franchise and allow a screenwriter to actually write a screenplay – you know, one of those things people write to make material suitable for the medium of film? As it is, Potter fans will likely thank the gods and heartily applaud what paltry little they have been given, while non fans will merely scratch there heads in confusion, trying to figure out what the hell is going on and what all the fuss is about in the first place.

We went to an 11:30am Saturday showing. Two-thirds of the way through the movie, my partner turned to me and asked, “Is it Sunday, yet?” Enough said.

More Movie Info: http://imdb.com/title/tt0304141/