Review: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows 7.2

This is a review of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows 7.2. (Duh.) It contains spoilers for the film. If you haven't seen it, go.

I have long been a fan of the Harry Potter films and the books. This, for some people, seems contradictory. I've heard people fight adamantly on both sides. Most commonly, you hear people who say that they liked the movie well enough but they'll never stack up to the way they felt about the books. I suppose all of these are fair responses, but as an avid student of adaptation theory, I've liked some of the films, and loved others of them in similar and different ways to the books, and I'm ok with that.

For example, one thing I really loved about the sixth film (Half-Blood Prince) was the way the film was able to parallell the journey of Draco and the journey of Harry. The books, by necessity couldn't tell Draco's story as he fought to find a way to complete the task given to him by Voldemort. The books are narrated from Harry's perspective, and, barring a few chapters at the beginning of the last few books, if Harry isn't there, the audience can't see it. But films are different, and the sixth film allows us to see the parallel journeys of Harry and Draco. That particular telling of the story gave me a different perspective on a story I already knew.

This means that when I go into a film adapted from a book I've read, part of my brain is turned on to comparison (what is different from the book, and why did they make the change), but most of my brain is dedicated to following the story that the movie is telling. That long-winded introduction in mind, this is what I thought of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, parts one and two. I already wrote my review of the first film (albiet, hastily.) This review will be more conclusive about the impact that they have as a pair.

I realized a long time ago that the Harry Potter films were going to select which stories to tell based almost entirely on the impact that storyline had first on Harry, and then on the friendship of Harry, Ron and Hermione. You can see this in the way that (almost all) of the movies end with the three of them looking off into the distance. This meant that other storylines that were important in the books were scrapped in the films. Dumbledore's background. Many of the Voldemort memories in the sixth film. Hermione's political activism with SPEW and Rita Skeeter. Ron's Quidditch experiences.

This made, I think, for more angry fans in the earlier movies who saw some of their favorite book plots scrapped. It did, however, make it slightly easier for them to adapt Deathly Hallows. I remember thinking that Jo wrote a pretty daring final novel. While so many people would have been tempted to make the last novel an adventure tale a pure detective novel with one explosion after another, Deathly Hallows is, for the most part, a remarkably quiet book. In fact, the destruction of the horcruxes - which everyone thought would be the focus - was almost entirely an afterthought. Harry doesn't witness the destruction of one of them. One horcrux gets destroyed by accident. He is only personally responsible for the destruction of one of them. Deathly Hallows is a book first and foremost about the power of friendship and fighting for those that you love.

I was a little afraid, I think, that the films would forget this. Hollywood, being Hollywood, would be tempted to make a bigger deal out of the action than they might have needed to. We saw this in Goblet of Fire, for example, with the fight Harry has with the dragon. I was a little nervous that the intellectual focus required for the first half of the film would be sacrificed with long intense fights. I was worried that the second film would be one big long explosion.

Instead, I was relieved to find that the writers and director David Yates were daring enough to make the movie that ought to have been made. A sincere and dedicated duo of films on the power and challenges of friendship and relationships of all kinds, healthy or not.

One thing that the movie brought out that I hadn't ever quite connected after reading the books was something a friend of mine noticed that we had a really great conversation about afterward. We talked about the symbolism of each horcrux and the individual most related to each object and the lessons learned from each object. Each horcrux and it's purpose/destruction/relation to an important person in Harry's life became a pretty great symbol that I suppose I could have picked up on through the reading of the book, but the visual element of the film brought it out even more.

The diary and its connection to Ginny brings up the element of where you put your trust and who you put it in. The ring and Dumbledore remind both Dumbledore and Harry not to dwell in the past. The locket and Ron remind us again about trust, but more specifically the trust of those things you hold most dear and being more open about what you feel. The trophy is Hermione's, and Harry's, possible temptation into the world of recognition and accolades and fighting against the threat of pride. The diadem is, I think, one of the more interesting connections because it is not really finalized - it's connected with Draco and the shared position Harry and Draco have as only sons and privileged children with many opportunities. Its accidental destruction showcases the relationship between Harry and Draco that won't ever be settled or more than cordial. Neville's destroying of the snake Nagini is a nice symbol of the way he stepped up to fill Harry's place in his absence - he destroys Voldemort's right hand, so to speak. Most important, of course, is Harry's destruction of himself - his symbolic conquering of his own weaknesses and foibles to protect the ones he loves. Wonderful. It was a fantastic conversation, and I have the films to thank for it. (This friend hasn't finished reading the books. Yet.)

There were a few things changed from the books that I missed, but the substitutions in the film were good. I appreciated the moment where Harry said good bye to Ron and Hermione. I thought the presentation of Snape's memory was a masterpiece (HUGE shout out to Alan Rickman, who was brilliant.) I even thought the final battle between Harry and Voldemort was good - it was a good visual representation of the mental battle they have in the book.

Ultimately, though, the real test for me on this film was that it left me feeling almost exactly as I had when I finished the book - utterly bewildered about what to do with myself. I felt as though I had just been through war. I felt as though I, too, had accomplished something great. And now the world expected me to do something as simple as closing a book or leaving a theater and . . . what. . . sleep? Eat? It didn't seem big enough. I didn't want to say good bye. I wanted to honor a story that had meant something to me - both through written word and through a final film pair that was everything it could have been and more. I can't wait to see it again.

Dear Mr. Potter,

The following is an admittedly sentimental tribute, but one that I felt needed to be written anyway.

I always hated how long it took for books to come when I ordered them from a book order. Now when I order books as a teacher, they come in less than a month. The benefit of online orders, I suppose. But when I was in school, a teacher had to wait for all orders to be turned in, mail the order, and wait for the books.

I don't think any wait was quite so long as the wait for you.

Maybe that's just because now that I know what I was really waiting for, the wait seemed extended. Maybe it was actually longer. (I did, after all, turn my book orders in as soon as I could. I'm a bit anal that way.) Either way, real or projected memory, the wait seemed interminable.

I have to be honest, though. I ordered you because of your cover. There wasn't much in the book order that time that looked interesting, but as an early teen without a job and only a small allowance, buying my own books was something of a luxury. I have another confession: I didn't read the first story first. All three were, I think, available in the book order - but it was less expensive to buy the second and third books in a set than it was to order them individually, and I couldn't afford them both. So I missed out on that story until a bit later. Luckily, it didn't make any difference.

By the time I discovered your story, I was too old to believe that Hogwarts was real. I didn't, like I had as a child that knocked on the back of wardrobes, start writing furious letters to Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall demanding to know why I hadn't been admitted to your school - but for all the time I spent in your world, I may as well have been.

Because that's the thing - whether it was real or happening in my head, that world made a difference to me.

For one thing, it made me see that answering lots of questions and getting homework in on time and loving to study were not bad things. I loved school dearly and always had, but knew that I was often the butt of jokes about being a teacher's pet or being too smart for my own good, or being a nerd. But I wasn't trying to be a teacher's pet - I genuinely loved and admired those who opened my eyes. I didn't think I was too smart for my own good - I thought I had so much to learn that there wasn't time to waste not asking questions. As for being a nerd, well, that was probably true. And while you weren't really like that - Hermione was. From her I learned that a girl can be both smart and kind, passionate and vulnerable, independent and reliant. I'm still learning from her.

For another thing, I learned how to look at life for the meaning it held. When things were hard, I was able to step back and see myself as the hero of my own story to try and figure out what to do next. I remembered the wise words of advice from Professor Dumbledore when he said that our choices matter more than our abilities, and that who we are born doesn't matter as much as who we grow to be. As a person often insecure in her own strengths and even more afraid of her own weaknesses, I gained perspective that allowed me to not be so hard on myself. To allow myself room to improve.

But, to be fair, I learned these lessons from other stories as well. I did learn them, perhaps, more potently from you, but I did find them in other places. There is, though, one lesson that I think can be directly linked to the years I spent waiting for your stories to come, and it was probably the most important lesson of all. Your books linked me to my family and to my friends. They gave me memories. See, I can be a pretty solitary person. I like people, but I don't often get attached to them. When life changes and people move on, I let them. I don't hold on to something that doesn't exist any more, or that I've grown out of. This is, perhaps, a virtue and a vice. But your books are connected to some of my most precious and treasured memories. For example:

-The first time I went to a midnight showing of your movie with a group of friends who, after a rocky few years of being very lonely, liked me for who I was.

-Waiting for your stories to come and spending hours discussing what we thought might happen to you or what things might be important with another group of friends. We eventually branched out into doing this not just about you, but about everything. It taught me how to think.

-Waiting up all night for the release of the fifth story, reading in the living room of my friend, and getting up early the next morning for a matinee performance of a play I was in. She got to read backstage and I didn't - I was horribly jealous.

-Perhaps most treasured of all - going to get the last book with my younger brother. It was one of the first times we really, honestly spent time together as adults, and I wouldn't have wanted to share that night with anyone else but him. Later that day our entire house was silent - everyone was reading. We had four different copies of the book at once, so that everyone could read. In a technology happy house like mine - that silence was one of a kind, and really special.

Your books didn't make a reader out of me - I'd loved to read since before I really knew how. But your books did make a scholar, a friend, an adventurer, and a more determined person out of me. I may not have attended your school or been there in reality - but I felt like I was - which means your story changed me.

Tonight I'll gather with friends and dress up and eat pumpkin pasties and drink butterbeer and, for the last time, trek to the theater to watch a midnight showing of a movie about you. It's hard to believe it's nearly over. I'm going to miss it terribly. Our journey started more than ten years ago. And I think it's left us both better off. Now all that's left, I suppose, is for both of us to take the lessons learned and do something about them. Make the world better.

So thank you, Mr. Potter - and you, Jo - for the honor and pleasure of your company. It's been an incredible ride. Thank you for including me on a journey that included millions, but felt so very personal.

-Me

The Mostly-Imagined Real Wanderings of a Kindred Soul Abroad

For my post-study abroad writing class we're all working on essays. My project has turned into a kind of beast but I'm rather proud of it so far. I'm taking every day of the trip and picking one moment from the day or one image of the day or one scene of the day that is particularly strong in my head and writing just that one image. I've got my journals and photos and letters from the trip for help. So far I'm about 15 days in (more than 40 to go) and I'm at 13 pages. Yes. It's going to be a beast! So what I thought I'd do is send some of these (shorter) entries out into the void. They're rather rough, but I'm hoping that in a more refined state they might actually appeal to an audience outside of myself and those who went on the trip who can appreciate it for sake of the trip. So I now present my ramblings...

27 April 2007-En-Route between Edinburgh and Glasgow

I’ve always wanted to ride on a train. Not the dinky ones at amusement parks but a real train. There’s something so much more romantic about traveling by train than by plane or by car, because no one does it any more. Trains are for Victorian “Gibson Girls” with their puffed sleeves and showy good looks and pompadour hair and students going to school for magic or something and I’m in love with this train. A little disappointed, though. I wanted my own little sliding door compartment, not an industrial bit of every day transport full of businessmen just going to work.

But I’m saved. A lady in a uniform comes down the aisle asking passengers if they want ‘anything off the trolley’ and I am put right back into my contented state. Do I want anything off the trolley?! Do I ever want anything off that trolley! This is my chance! To do something quintessentially British! In Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone Harry goes out to the trolley of the Hogwarts Express wanting to buy a Mars bar. Granted, he gets magical candy that tastes like bogies, but I can’t ask for everything all at once. Thus, in honor of that boy-wizard friend, I proudly hand over my 60p and munch on the English equivalent of a Milky Way. Romance has been satisfied.

I try not to stare too much at the people on the train, but it’s hard because of the family with kids next to me. There are two boys playing with some kind of fantasy card game (Pokemon? I don’t know the difference. I should, I have brothers) and another little baby just starting to blabber a few words. All three of those boys are speaking with little hobbity Scottish accents. Two days in a row my anti-tourist campaign is shattered because I can’t pretend that I’m not totally entertained by these kids and completely envious of the life they lead. A life that is more or less exactly like mine but with the coveted Scottish accent attached to it, thus making it about a trillion times cooler. Theoretically, obtaining a Scottish or English accent of some kind would be my key to casting off the burden of tourism. I look British enough thanks to my ancestors. If I don’t say anything no one will no the difference, but I bought the Mars Bar so my birds have flown on this train. I wonder if the couple thought I was foreign before I spoke.

30 April 2007-Coach to Wasdale

I have fallen in love. Madly in love. With a biscuit. Not just any biscuit, though. Oh no. This is the most incredible biscuit in the world. Biscuit, biscuit, biscuit. It’s even fun to say. Anyone in the world who has tasted Scottish shortbread would have to agree with me or be utterly insane. Shortbread is brilliant because the full flavor takes you by surprise after you suck on the little cookie morsels for a little while. There’s a splash of buttery goodness and a twist of sugar and I don’t know what else but I can’t stop eating them. It’s such a half-guilty pleasure. I think somewhere in my psyche I imagine that everyone on the coach can see how many of these little shortbread fingers I’ve eaten and they’re all criticizing me for it. Earlier I was sharing with the girls closest to me, but they’ve all had their fill by now and I’m still peckish. So when I decide I want another one I kind of duck to the side with my forehead resting on the window and my body shielding the box. Then I slowly pull the box open. The hard part is pulling the plastic cookie-tray out because that makes noise when you reach through the plastic wrapper of the plastic holder. Then, one cookie after another, I indulge my way through about a quarter of the box. That’s the amazing and terrifying part of the power of a good shortbread cookie: once you start eating them it’s hard to resist another. And another. Eight or so fingers of shortbread later, I am content.

3 May 2007-Helvelyn

Do you know what happens when a gaggle of hot, sweaty, tired girls get together and hike a mountain all day and then find a pool of deserted, inviting, seductive water in the middle of a valley? I do. Some kind of time and space warp occurs and every girl there is transformed into a desert traveler who has not seen water in years. Clothes fly everywhere, screaming ensues, water flies, and there’s giggling. Lots and lots of giggling.

Not from me. I like my clothes where they are, thanks. And I don’t like hiking wet so I’m not about to jump in clothed either. Or even partially clothed. The water is cold. And dirty. And there are probably fish somewhere in there. Leeches. The Loch Ness monster. No no . . . ground is safer. I turn away from the splashing, riotous crew of mermaids to continue on my quest towards ruining the landscape. My colored pencils are out again and having a marvelous time forgetting about depth perception and shading. I have one hand around my waist to keep my shirt firmly in place, lest some knavish sprite come and take my by surprise and toss me in with the rest of the herd.

One by one our modest group of girls starts to give in at various levels of embarrassment and nakedness. Some keep their knickers on, others opt for something less clothed. I opt for clothes. I have no desire to jump in. It isn’t even so much the naked part of all this that bothers me. I’ve been in theater for years. Dressing and undressing in front of girls (or boys) isn’t exactly new. I’m comfortable enough with myself. I don’t think I’m ugly. It’s everyone else that makes me nervous. What if they aren’t comfortable with me observing them? Everyone’s so different. Rolls here and there, in and out of their underwear, swimming in the water, only sitting on the bank . . . they’re all different kinds of druidy goddesses of the earth and if I go over there I will stare. Not to be pornographic, just to wonder at how people can be so different, I suppose. To look at their bodies and think about mine and what it means to be short with long fingers and brown hair and blue eyes and round and flat and whatever else I am.

22 May 2007-Portsmouth

There are some days on the year when I simply cannot be responsible. Today is one of those days. I am surrounded by history. Naval museums are everywhere. The HMS Victory is planted in the middle of some concrete for people to tour. I could, theoretically, learn hundreds of new facts about British Naval history . . . or I could turn into a five year old and spend the entire afternoon prancing around ships for sake of goofy pictures and end the day in a ball pit at a children’s play place in a restaurant. Which is precisely what I do.

Evelyn and I are quite giddy when we see the empty play set. “Do you think-“ “Would they kick us out-“ “Is there an age limit-“ we half run through the exhibit on ship building and knot tying to the back of the restaurant where a deserted play place stands in all of it’s welcoming glory. A kind of ghostly music is echoing off of the padded walls and plastic slides, calling me forward. Who am I to resist fate? Every sailor knows what happens when you resist fate. Ask Odysseus. I either give in to the temptation in my rightful mind or get sucked in and turn into some kind of monster. Evelyn and I look at each other. The gauntlet is dropped. We race to drop our bags and grab our cameras and rip off our shoes (not necessarily in that order). “You take pictures of me, and I’ll get pictures of you!” “Ok!” Run, run, run-up, crawl through the tube (were they always this small?), climb up the ladder (mind your head!), stop for a picture (I love being five!)! In and out and up and pause (flash), go and switch places and your turn and bury me in the balls, and take that picture again my eyes are closed and I am definitely too big for that but I’m going to try it anyway and go through those ropes and slide on that zip line and this play place is the most incredible thing I think I’ve ever seen. One day when I’m old and overly responsible I may look back on my tryst through plastic-ball world as an opportunity lost and mourn that I could have toured many grand historical monuments but . . . well never mind. I won’t regret this.

24 May 2007- Fox Inn-Lulworth Cove

It has been a long day. Up at four in the morning. Be angry about being up at such an un-godly hour. Coach to Stonehenge. Admire Stonehenge. Take pictures with Stonehenge. Coach to Stourhead. Search frantically for Pride and Prejudice filming location where Elizabeth rejects Darcy in the new movie. Take 800 pictures of (and with) Pride and Prejudice filming location in various states of emotional discomfort and longing over Darcy. Coach to Marnhull church. Walk to Tess’ Cottage. Hike to Milton Abbey. Get lost alone in Milton Abbey. Sing songs alone in Milton Abbey while everyone else is being responsible and not lost. Drive with John who has found the lost wandering me to the Inn (get lost twice. His fault, not mine). Discover that I’m sharing a room with Liz which is happy. Discover that the room we’re sharing does not involve hauling luggage up stairs which is also happy. Discover that the room we’re sharing contains several very big fluffy pillows and the room provides tea. Brilliant.

Time to tell the staff of the inn what I want for dinner so that they can have what everyone wants. The options are chicken, vegetarian lasagna, a soup and trout. Brilliant again. I am in the southern part of England, now is the perfect chance to try nice fish since I’m too cheap to buy it for dinner elsewhere! I can let the program pay for my fish! I sign up for trout.

Dinner goes well. Good food, good friends, good talk through the starters. Then the main course starts to arrive. I wait with eager anticipation and several appropriate sea-shanties running through my head until placed before me is Captain Ahab. Captain Ahab is my dinner. He (I’m assuming his gender. I’m not up on fish anatomy) is fully scaled and still in tact with eyes and scales and tail and fins.

If I had a cleaver I would be able to quote A Christmas Story. (He’s smiling at me! Chop). But Captain Ahab isn’t smiling at me. He is accusing me. I don’t have the heart to eat him while he watches. It’s a little indecent. I take some of my left over salad and put it over his eyes. May he rest in peace.

Captain Ahab is completely disgusting and without flavor in revenge.

Broken Record

I said I'd be back with more Harry Potter movie reviewing but after reading Orson Scott Card's review of the movie I don't feel the need to, since the man has (and much more eloquently than I could, I might add) said exactly what I wanted to say. So rather than give a more in depth viewing of the movie analysis after my second time around, I'm going to do what we did through all of England on our study abroad: synthesize everything. Or bobbette everything if you want the other vocab word.

I learned in England not to go anywhere without paper, especially to plays and movies and concerts and things because if I didn't have a notebook handy I'd forget what I wanted to say. It's easy enough to make those notes in classes or on campus-or other places when there aren't stories to follow but seeing plays without a notebook is hard-there's too much going on to remember that one line that you liked or the one scene that touched you. As a result, I've written down the lines that got to me in one way or another when I watched the movie today.

Like OSC says, it's interesting how intelligent this movie is. There's so much there to consider. This movie touched me in ways the book didn't. The book is so laced with humor that, at times, I don't know if I really felt the seriousness of the situation. Or the cruelty. Seeing is different than reading though-I'm thinking particularly of two scenes that were in the book. The first is the detention scene with Harry-that first one when you first see Umbridge's satisfied smile and the words being etched on Harry's hand. Goodness...you know, I love Umbridge as a character. she's a brilliant villain. Reading her makes me admire Jo's ability to create two toned characters that are both humorous and villainous-really meaty characters you can sink your teeth into. But seeing her made me feel sick inside. That scene unnerved me in ways that it didn't when I read it. Maybe this is because I'm thinking more about becoming a teacher and have all these massive ideas on what public education should be-but hearing Umbridge tell Harry that "you know deep down inside you deserve to be punished"-ugh. The other scene was seeing Trelawny be sacked. A good portion of this is probably because the director decided to take the scene seriously-I seem to remember it being slightly comical in the book-but Emma Thompson is so brilliant that seeing her half trip over her suitcase made that sick feeling come back. Harry is right when he tells Hermione that whatever "this" is, it isn't simple.

These books are much more complex than people give them credit for. Yes, they're housed in the children's section, but they don't deserve to be any more, I don't think. Or people should stop thinking of them simply as children's literature. Like it's degrading. Think of how many incredible children's books there are out there that teach really powerful, deep lessons-much better than any serialized romance or crummy thriller you'd find in the regular Fiction section. Charlotte's Web and Bridge to Terabithia, for example-they deal very seriously with what it is to have friendship and what it means to face death. The Giver. Tuck Everlasting. The Boxcar Children. All these books about children who are faced with really serious situations and decisions-whether or not to drink a water that will make you live forever or face death-how to survive without parents-and we shun them as books that don't make children think? Make people think? Harry Potter is no different. People shun them aside as children's literature in the worst sense of the phrase because they are fantasy and involve children-but these books make people think in ways that I would wager more than half the books in the fiction section at Barns and Noble could.

This movie brings some of those themes out-I definitely left the theater both times with things to consider. Take two of the lines from the movie for example-Umbridge telling her class that they'll learn about defense in a "secure risk free environment" and Sirius saying "what's life without a bit of risk". We had lots of discussion about risk on our study abroad. I'm not a really risky person. I am, in a way since I do theater-every audition is a risk-but I don't really see it in that way any longer because it's something I just do. So what are they saying about risk? Because neither way is really the right way. Living life without risk or too much risk isn't what Jo is promoting here-or the film for that matter. We see where Sirius and Umbridge end up. Where is the medium?

The movie did some really great things with developing Harry's character that I loved particularly. The scene at the end when he gives his speech to Voldemort (kind of reminded me of Moses 1 in the Pearl of Great Price...was that blasphemous?)-at the end of it he says "I feel sorry for you (Voldemort)". After all he's been through, afraid that he's becoming his enemy-he expresses sorrow for him. It's Frodo admitting he feels bad for Smeagol/Gollum. Brilliant. The other bit I really liked was Harry's speech on how all the greatest wizards were children once-and if they can do it, then so can the DA. I love that because I love thinking about the power of youth. I think lots of this is because I felt so much more grown up than I was when I was younger. My emotions were very real to me. I wanted to be taken seriously. So when I see kids doing what I wanted to do-create a symbolic DA of sorts and be able to fight against adults and win-I get really excited. It's why I loved Matilda so much. It isn't bashing on adults-it's not denying the feelings and emotions and intelligence of children, who really do understand much more than most people give them credit for because we're told to sugar coat everything.

Spiritually the part of the movie that touched me most was the idea that Harry has where he thinks he's becoming Voldemort. I think we're a little too hard on ourselves as members of the church sometimes. We really are a bunch of transcendentalists, in a way-there's a lot of emphasis on perfecting yourself. I think we sometimes get really focussed-or at least I do-on what it is we're doing wrong. Because we focus so much on these things we aren't good at, I think we assume that God does too. But I think we give ourselves too little credit. Dumbledore says it later in the film-it isn't what makes us like (Voldemort/Satan)-it's what makes us different. It's the times when we do live up to our own expectations, and succeed. It's when our intentions are pure. We focus so much on exactness that we forget mercy-we forget that God wants us home more than anything.

Anyway. That's enough Harry Potter for now. Good grief-it's all I blog on now. Mostly this is because I don't have anything else of interest going on. I don't want to write about how stressful selling my contract is because then I'd have to think about it some more.

My sister was baptized today-it's crazy because I remember when she was born and thinking I would be twenty when she got baptized. That's pretty old for a twelve year old. I remember thinking I could be married or dating someone at that point (so much for that)-and here it is. It was a pretty emotional day. I won't go into all the details or the background on it, but it was incredible to see her. There was a baby picture of her in the program right next to one of her now-forgive me while I wax sentimental for a second-I love my family. Having everyone in my family together is something of a luxury now with me at school most of the time and my brothers always out with friends and my dad with work and...it's a rare occasion. We've been through the mill as a whole family in the last few months with problems that don't need to be shared with the world, but let me just say that seeing my family come together today really reminded me of how it can (and should) be-and how grateful I am for the gospel.

Two thumbs up. And a wand.

I don't have time to give the whole review now-partly because I have so much reading to do and only a bit of time to do it before I go to bed. I've got about two days left to finish Order of the Phoenix if I want to keep on schedule and yesterday put me behind. Not that I didn't get my dose of it anyway. I'd like to wait until I see the movie again before I do a full review anyway. This review will, therefore, be somewhat scattered and random.

1. FINALLY a director that knows what he's doing. The transitions worked so well. How do you condense an 870 page book into a two hour and fifteen (ish) minute movie? That's about the same length as the Prisoner of Azkaban film. Well, for starters, you pick one part of the storyline and run with it. Which is what he did. Order of the Phoenix has lots of detail in it-detail that is necessary in a complex book but not as necessary in a less complex/wordy venue such as a film. The details that needed to be there were kept. Those that weren't were scrapped.

2. Screenwriter-I'm in love with this man. It's about time someone realized that the dialogue Jo creates is good the way it is. So many of my favorite one liners made the cut! Horray!

3. The movie stands on its own, but still gives plenty of nods to those of us who comb through the books-the scene in the underground with Mr. Weasley. Kingsley and Tonks-you know who they are if you haven't read the books, but those of us who have appreciate that they are there. I disagree with Liz on this-on Kreacher as well. It would have broken suspense and taken too much time to develop his storyline at this time. Besides-I get the feeling that Kreacher's importance isn't so much in this fooling of Harry as it is in book seven, but I guess we'll see later on. Jo reads over these scripts and as far as I'm concerned, she wouldn't let them do anything really drastic.

4. Luna! I disagree with Liz here too-Luna was funny and profound at the same time. It was perfect, because she is that way in the books too. Really-a lot of what she says in the books is quite profound, but it's masked with humor. Still though-she's a Ravenclaw. She's smart. And you get the feeling that she really lives in her own world. She doesn't care what people think of her, but she's not bitter about it in the way some people are.

5. Ginny-she rocks. Period.

The movie just felt like a movie. It didn't feel like it was joking around, it felt like it was taking itself seriously. Like the people who made it really wanted it to be good film-wise, not just good in the Harry Potter verse.

I thought the cuts they made were decent cuts. The business with expanding on the prophecy for example-all of that is necessary in the book because Harry's character is developed more. So much of five is internal that Harry needs to have all the extra stuff about the prophecy being important because Voldemort makes it important, and Dumbledore having heard it but-really-do we need it? Not really. Not in the film-verse. Because for the film-going crowd this is the Empire Strikes Back. This is Luke being like-ok. I know I've got to fight the bad guy now and destroy him. No, it isn't as meaty or as developed as the book is, but it's all you need. Anyway-I'm going to see the movie again and come back with more.

For now just don't try and argue with me. I'm sick of all my friends whining about what wasn't in the film. Come on, people. Get over it. I was surprised at how faithful they were to the book in the end. As opposed to the other films, more of this film came strait from the book.

In brighter less annoyed news-only ten days until seven comes out!

And now for something completely different...

I'm really enjoying this Harry Potter blog stuff. It gives me an excuse to write what I like to talk about only with fewer annoying interruptions ;). To Dan I have only one word: delusional. If you would like to know the reference, read the Leaky/Mug interview with Jo that occurred the day after the book came out. You might be better off learning to like Ron and giving up your Harry/Hermione dreams. In fact, I think I'll do a blog on ships and why they have to work out in certain ways...hmm...how kind of Scholastic to give me that prompt for two blogs down the road!

In the mean time, I thought I would post up a bit of my better writing from England (in my opinion anyway) as a kind of explanation for what we did there and what I actually learned. My first essay is much more structured. After this first essay I was told to do nothing but stream of thought writing-something I enjoyed immensely. Read what you will-I'll post up my next Harry Potter question later tonight. Keep in mind of course, that all these essays are highly unfinished and, in some cases, not really meant for much else but my own computer. Comments are, of course, welcome.

Essay 1:

Living in the Impossible

I am sitting on a park bench outside Wordsworth’s grave. By now I have been in England for a week and many things I gawked over and thought quaint right after I arrived are now a little more normal. Driving on the left side of the road isn’t a novelty. Rhododendron bushes full of bold magenta and scarlet flowers are still beautiful, but not as exciting. I still take pictures of sheep, but not with quite so much enthusiasm as I did a few days ago. I’ve grown used to the sounds of new birds and the smell of dung that occasionally permeates through the romance of the Lake District, and I’ve started to think that I will never be going home. Six more weeks seems like an eternity, and imagining myself in Utah studying for finals seems like some kind of dream instead of the reality it was ten days ago. Haven’t I lived here forever like a flower child wandering the parks and mountains in search of a muse for my writing?

Grasmere is, on all accounts, the stereotypical Britain I imagined after years of watching BBC’s Keeping Up Appearances with my parents. The houses have flower boxes. The pubs are called things like “The Kings Head”. The roads are narrow, winding, and lined with stone walls. Nearly every house has a garden with a rhododendron bush growing in the yard. Men with plaid caps and women with shopping bags-it feels like the town that didn’t grow up because it’s frozen in time like a postcard. Just when I thought that Grasmere couldn’t become any more stereotypical, a little robin lands on my bench, just inches from my arm. He’s a small, curious little thing. I can see his heart beating underneath his crest of red and dirty brown feathers. He stays on the bench for a minute or so, preening for me a little, then hops down on the ground. I smile at his cheek, and open my bag to pull out my journal to write about him. By the time I have my pen uncapped, the robin is back, this time clutching breakfast in his beak – a bug with legs still twitching in pain. I congratulate my little bird friend on his success and he leaves again after a small nod. I date the page on my journal – “4 April 2007, Grasmere, Wordsworth’s Grave” and the robin is back again, bugless and watching me with as much curiosity as I have given him.

Lucy Maud Montgomery, the author of the Anne of Green Gables series, was once asked if Anne was a real character. In her journals she says that she hated to answer no to such a question, because she felt that if she did, she would turn around and see Anne staring at her because she felt so real. I feel the same way about the child that still lives in me somewhere. It is because of this that I slowly hold out my pointer and middle fingers for the robin to jump on if he chooses. I know he won’t, but I have to do it anyway. I grew up watching Mary Poppins sing duets with the red breasted robin at Jane and Michael’s window, and now I offer my company or risk feeling that I have let my child-like self down. When I was younger I would chase birds up and down the street, whistling and holding out my fingers, begging for them to land on my hand and give me a little more faith in magic. I do so now not for confirmation in magic, but because I half expect a scowl from a miniature version of me if I don’t. He doesn’t jump onto my fingers, but he doesn’t fly away this time either. I’ve intrigued him.

My little robin friend reminds me of another robin too. In the book The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgeson Burnett the snobbish Mary Lenox is charmed into civility in part through the friendship of a robin, who leads her to a key. The key unlocks a forbidden, half forgotten garden. I never had a secret garden or a robin for a friend, and I hope I was never as rude as Mary was, but I imagined myself into her shoes hundreds of times. I collected old keys and used to try and find the gate that they would open, even though most of the keys came from buildings that were long since torn down, or even across the ocean, since some of them had come from the grandfather of a friend of mine in South Africa. It wouldn’t stop me from trying. The older and more ornate the key was the better. I tried growing gardens too. Underneath the porch in the back yard of our home, I dug little holes and put seeds for carrots and peas in the ground to make them grow. I watched for weeks as the little shoots popped up out of the ground, but the poor plants were never destined for greatness. They didn’t reach anything past an inch out of the ground. I tried again with flower seeds. I tried again with little pellets of dirt I bought at the store where all you had to do was water them and you would have an instant garden, but I never met with success. Plants would see me and wither from fear.

It never mattered though. The withered plants made me sad for a while, and watching birds fly from me with fear did nothing for my ego, but the world I built in my head was better than any carrot root or a visit from a bird. In my imagination I could go anywhere and be anything I wanted. I could live in a world where anything was possible. I would fly to Neverland in my room and talk with hares over tea. I could be an Olympic gymnast or a renowned writer who made a difference in the world. I could be important. I could be something truly great.

It was seeing the robin hop around that reminded me of this feeling of infinite possibility. I remember my dream to fly both physically and metaphorically and mourn the loss of innocence that I experienced. It gave me logic and reason in place of imagination and dreams, and took away the belief I once had in myself and whether or not I will ever mean anything to anyone. Just as soon as I start to mourn the loss of my innocence I laugh at myself. Who am I kidding? I am still caught up in the world of innocence. I didn’t know what beer smelled like until I was eighteen. I am still naïve about many things most college students have known about for years. I am not simply caught up in that world, I sometimes embellish it for my own amusement. Hadn’t I spent the last week climbing mountains and pretending that it was Mount Doom instead of Ben Lomond? My world of imagination never really left because I never really wanted to give it up. If I did consent to giving it up, it would feel like giving up a part of myself that still believes I can be great.

I’m not as innocent as I was as a child any longer. I don’t believe that I can clean my room by snapping my fingers any more. I shut my window to Peter Pan a long time ago. I’ve stopped knocking on the back of every wardrobe and searching for rabbit holes. When I do find myself slipping into dreamland, however, I don’t think I’m wrong or unique any more. I think that most people need a bit of fantasy in their lives. The Lord of the Rings took the world by storm again when they were released as movies. The Harry Potter franchise has impacted more people than anyone ever would have thought possible. What is it about fantasy and dreaming that is so popular? Is there something in us that needs to dream? In one of his discussions on fantasy, J.R.R. Tolkien stated that “Fantasy remains a human right: we make in our measure and in our derivative mode: because we are made: and not only made, but made in the image and likeness of a Maker”. Does not this desire to create magic also relate to our desire to create for ourselves? We dream of being great. We dream of being wonderful.

In the parable of the talents, it is the man who hides his talent in the ground that is punished. I used to find this depressing. Why is it that the man who is given least is punished? It wasn’t fair for the men given more to be given even more still. The poor man who received only one talent was being left out. But what if this parable also related to our dreams and goals and visions for ourselves? We learn in Sunday school that we are literal children of God, destined to be Gods if we are righteous. When we try to achieve easy ends, or when we decide not to pursue great things, are we not essentially burying our talents in the dirt? It feels like we are denying our own Godliness if we do not try to reach important goals. It feels like we are denying God’s ability to help us reach our dreams. Perhaps this has little to do with imagining magical lands through wardrobes and birds that sing in harmony with me, but it does relate to an old dream of being an author. Of doing something that is important in the world, and of being a person that is unique and significant to someone somewhere in the void.

I take a picture of the robin who poses obligingly on the end of my bench before flying off to find another bug for breakfast, or perhaps to meet an unrequited lover, or to visit another bench and another writer. Our group is getting ready to leave. I put my camera and journal away, still thinking about the bird and the pleasant wave of childhood memories I’ve just had. I think about what Wordsworth would have written if he had experienced what I did, or what he would have said if he could have read my thoughts. I think about robins and hiking and the hero’s journey and fantasy and how I’ve always felt so foolish allowing my dreams to take such hold of my way of thinking and dealing with life, and then I see the robin again. He’s watching me go. I change my mind. Why should I feel foolish? If I live in a world of impossible dreams, then I am opening up several hundred more possibilities by reaching for something that feels impossible. Living in the possible isn’t enough. It isn’t courageous to accept the mundane. It’s living in impossibility that shows us what we’re made of. I leave the garden with a backwards glance towards where the robin was as I left. He isn’t there.


Essay #2 (Selections)
DAY ONE: The night is dark and damp. We’ve just heard the poet Terry Gifford give us a wonderful lecture on how he constructs his poetry. Or rather, the rest of the group has heard Terry Gifford give a wonderful lecture on how he constructs poetry. I was in the kitchen making curry for dinner. The only part of it I heard was at the very end when he pulled out a folded book that contained a series of images he made while visiting Australia. Each page contained only one image. He challenged us to try doing the same thing, so I was on the watch for images. We turned down an alleyway. The street was completely empty. Lamp posts made pools of light on damp pavement. No-not completely empty. There is a couple on the walk ahead of us. The boys lead the group across the street so that we’re not interrupting their goodbyes. I hesitate because I’m curious. The man has his forehead buried against the neck of the woman. Was she taller than him? Was she wearing heals? I don’t know. It was strange. Then she kissed his forehead and I turned away, feeling like an intruder. Something about watching romance on a movie or reading about it in a book seems displaced compared to this scene. Kisses on foreheads are supposed to mean something related to comfort or the order of things because the forehead is higher than the cheek and the man kisses the forehead because he is the man and the woman kisses the cheek because she is the woman but not on this street. On this street the woman kisses the forehead and that’s how the relationship works. I wonder about their relationship and how the dynamic works. Arms and heads and whatever else intertwined the way things are it doesn’t seem like they could be unequal exactly. I see stars. I look for stars at night because I want to fly there some day and see that they really do exist even though science says they don’t but I know better. I know that stars exist because they are God’s. I know that on one of those stars is a place where new flowers grow and new buildings are built and sciences are different and people walk backwards and the animals are in charge. I look at the stars because they should give light but don’t. Starless nights aren’t much different to me than a night full of stars except one has the stars and the other doesn’t. There are so many songs about stars that make me sick and I hate thinking about them in sappy ways because it reminds me that I’m a girl and I like to be giddy but I don’t like to feel foolish so I embrace romance and push it away, like when I watch the couple on the street and then look away because I’m intruding on something that belongs to them and not to a bunch of American tourists. I’ve developed a fascination with tea and how it tastes after I take a sip. Peppermint leaves a taste like Christmas and Lemon Ginger leaves a taste like being sick at home even though I never drank Lemon Ginger when I was sick at home because my parents don’t buy herbal tea. I like the look of the liquid in the cup and wonder about how the tea bags are put together so that every single time I drink a cup it tastes the same even though the ratio of different spices probably changes and who came up with tea anyway? Or the idea for the wheel? Maybe God didn’t talk to Adam just about naming the animals or Joseph just about interpreting dreams but told them where to find tea and wheels and dogs that make good pets and cats that can be house trained. No-it was probably earlier than that. Wheels came before Joseph and after Adam and I don’t know about the tea except the Chinese are famous for it and the English drink it all the time and I drink it because I wanted to be more English and now I really like it instead of pretending to like I did when I was twelve.

Essay #3 (Selections)

I wrote a story once late at night the night before it was due on a blind woman who liked to garden. This story was completely anti-everything-I-do-in-fiction-writing because I tend to research things to death before I write about them for fear of screwing things up but I didn’t have time to research what it was like to be blind in more detail than I already had so I just made up most of it so that it sounded good. I needed a gimmick to bring out the sensory details in my writing and I needed a way to write a story without ever saying that she was blind and just letting it be figured out as it went along. It worked pretty well as a page and a half story about a woman who could smell the difference in colors of flowers. I don’t know if such a thing is possible or not. I don’t know if it matters though. Artist’s liberty. Harry Potter can make things fly with a wand, I can make a blind woman smell color. There it is. I love looking at the different colors. When we hiked to Tintern Abbey from St. Briavel’s Castle almost every green looked exactly the same at first until I really started to think about the colors and look at them and then I realized that, of course, as I thought I would be, I was wrong. It makes a really good cheesy metaphor about being unique or something but I won’t use it because the end is too obvious from the beginning. There’s no point in that. There’s no struggle for understanding or…whatever else it takes to get a good jaunt out of a metaphor. I wish we didn’t train ourselves to find so much meaning in everything. We spend so much time as English people hashing and re hashing stories to the point where we start looking for meanings and double meanings in everything because taking something at face value isn’t good enough for an essay but what if something is just fine at face value? One of these days I’ll hand in an essay that goes like this: “Pride and Prejudice is a wonderful romance,” and then hand it in without any explanation because it’s true and that’s just fine, isn’t it? Do we really want any more essays on how complex Darcy is? Is he complex? Or did years of over-analysis thrust complexity on him? What about Elizabeth? Does she really change? And what about how superficial it is that she sees Darcy’s metaphorical house and falls in love with him instantly? Does anyone look at the story from that angle? About how instead of being a romance, it’s actually about a money-hungry girl who takes Charlotte Lucas’ advice and turns into Lady Catherine version 2.0? Of course not. But then, someone probably has which means even that analysis is old and what’s the point of that? There’s nothing for it. So I will stick with my one sentence essay and go on enjoying things at face value every once in a while without the analysis if I can. I’m like a trained monkey.

Synthesis Essay:

“From the point of yonder rolling cloud I plunge into my past being and revel there . . . and I begin to feel, think, and be myself again . . . mine is that undisturbed silence of the heart which alone is perfect eloquence.” ~William Hazlitt

I came into this trip not feeling exactly secure with myself. I wasn’t unhappy with my life necessarily but there were things about myself that I felt were childish or stupid or probably could do with some change. There is a very strong part of my mind that loves to dream and imagine and pretend in a way that no one else does and I felt like it should probably change. At the same time though, I didn’t want it to change. I thought I should, but I didn’t feel any real urgency to do so because I like doing it. I like the way I think. Sometimes I feel bad feeling the spirit more in fictional books and metaphors that sectional writers come up with than when I read the scriptures, for example. But God will speak to me in ways that I am ready to listen and if that means that I can find God through books I read and movies I see or whatever other means I find him then so be it. I am unique but I am not wrong or strange. At least not any more wrong or strange than anyone else. I am still unhappy with some of my life, but not that part of my life.

“And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good.” ~Genesis 1:31

“And out the ground made the Lord God to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight, and good for food; the tree of life also in the midst of the garden, and the tree of knowledge of good and evil.” ~Genesis 2:9

“For God so loved the world . . .” John 3:16

The Bronte’s were wrong. We talk so much about how we should separate ourselves from the world in the church. We should, in a symbolic way of moving away from the secular things that won’t bring us eternal happiness, but in another way, we should be very much a part of this world. God loves this earth. It is his creation every bit as much as we are. We might be greater because we are his children, but this earth is beautiful and it is his and there is no crime in loving the out doors. My mindset about being outdoors changed from the beginning of the trip. I’m not always keen on being outside, but there are times when I just need to be out and feel the sun on my face. I wish the states had a park system as they do here. I will have to hunt when I get home to find places where I can ‘be one with the gods’.

Phew. There it is. If you made it to the end I might make you brownies.

Evil or not evil? That is the question...

Wow. Another lame title. But that's ok because I'm doing two posts in one day. Mostly out of boredom, but also out of a measure of excitement over Harry Potter madness! First of all-Dan-you hate Ron? Sad day! Why on earth would you hate Ron? I could understand a certain level of annoyance with his movie counterpart-one of the biggest flaws I see in the movie is the transformation of Ron from bearer of wizard culture wisdom to comic sidekick. But hate Ron? That's rather depressing.

I had some friends over tonight to join me in a bit of Robin Hood love from the BBC-(yes, I've continued my mission to corrupt others) and one of my friends declared that he has read all of book seven via some very clever hacker friends. Hmm. I think I'll echo Kuzco from The Emperor's New Groove here for a moment-"Riiiiight". Would Scholastic really be that ridiculous and easy to tap into? Or Bloomsbury? I doubt it. He kept going on about "oh...but I can't tell you that. It's in the next book", etc. Good gravy. People are so gullible around Harry Potter time. Last time the book came out I was working at B&N and had several very confused people ask me the difference between the regular and deluxe box set versions of the book-they seemed to think that the deluxe edition had deleted scenes or an alternate ending or something. I wanted to very rudely remind them that books are not movies and they don't have deleted scenes or alternate endings outside of the Choose Your Own Adventure world.

On to the next question, then!

Is Snape Good or Evil?

Good. Ish.

In terms of plot development, Snape has to be good or Harry has been right about him the whole series. If that's the case than it's a bit anti-climactic. If Harry's been right the whole time and finally proves himself right it's much more anti-climactic for his character development than if Snape is really good and proves himself, and Harry has to come to terms with it-it's another symbolic way that he would rise above the point his parents were at when they were killed.

Let's look at Snapes' track record. I'm really fond of looking at this via. the second chapter of book 6: Spinner's End. I'm using this chapter because Liz has already addressed this same question with my same conclusion using other text for back up. Let's break things down by looking at the chapter:

In the chapter Bellatrix and Narcissa show up at Snape's rather bleak house because Narcissa is worried about a promise that Draco has made. The promise is never fully explained, but we know that it deals with Voldemort. We assume that the task Draco was given is to kill Dumbledore (as seen later on in the book). Since this is never stated directly it's still in the strongly assumed category (unless Jo said it directly in an interview...I can't remember. Draco more or less confirms it in Chapter 27). That's not the point. Narcissa is worried because her son is headstrong and foolish (he's a teenager, in other words), and she thinks that Draco is in over his head. She doesn't think he'll be able to complete the task. She's come asking for help from Snape for a few obvious reasons: he's in a convenient position to look out for him as a teacher at the school, and she trusts him as an old friend. Bellatrix isn't so sure. She states forcefully that she does not trust Snape (US, 25). Snape asks Bellatrix why she doesn't trust him.

"A hundred reasons!" she said loudly, striding out from behind the sofa to slam her glass upon the table. "Where to start! Where were you when the Dark Lord fell? Why did you never make any attempt to find him when he vanished? What have you been doing all these years that you've lived in Dumbledore's pocket? Why did you stop the Dark Lord procuring the Sorcerer's Stone? Why did you not return at once when the Dark Lord was reborn? Where were you a few weeks ago when we battled to retrieve the prophecy for the Dark Lord? And why, Snape, is Harry Potter still alive, when you have had him at your mercy for five years?" (US, 25)

She definitely gives us something to think about. One interesting question to consider is not so much why did Voldemort trust Snape from the beginning, but why he still trusts Snape. Snape is never very clear about all of that in this chapter. He just says that the Dark Lord understands, that Voldemort shouldn't feel the need to share all of it with Bellatrix to pacify her...etc. etc. It's a bit cryptic. Especially considering how good Voldemort is at Legilimency. Snape must be really really good at Occlumency. And then there's the question of why Dumbledore trust's Snape-that's even more ambiguous (which makes it more exciting plot-development wise for Harry and crew to discover why it is! More proof!)

Anyway. I'm not going to detail the whole chapter. Snape gives counterpoints for each of Bella's claims. He suggests that Voldemort has asked him each one of these questions as well and has accepted his answers. He also says something rather interesting- "You think he (Voldemort) is mistaken? Or that I have somehow hoodwinked him? Fooled the Dark Lord, the greatest wizard, the most accomplished Legilimens the world has ever seen?" (US, 26). Well. That'd make for an interesting plot twist. Most of what he gives Bellatrix from this point on seems like relative truth (in the "from a certain point of view" way ala. Obi Wan). Where the conversation gets meaty is when he addresses the last part of her question-why he allowed Harry to live. Snape's been doing pretty well up to this point, but here his answer gets a little weak. He says that he didn't kill Harry because he is Dumbledore's favorite and killing him would put him into Azkaban. Really, Snape? Wouldn't killing any student put him into Azkaban? He also says that it was apparent that he (Harry) had no extraordinary talent. Now, we know that Harry, whatever he is, isn't Snape's favorite student but this is going a bit far. Snape knows that Harry is a good student. He's not the best, but he has already managed to thwart Voldemort four times in person-more than any other full grown wizard save Dumbledore perhaps, but even Dumbledore hasn't survived a killing curse-he competed in the Triwizard tournament, he can produce a coporeal patronus, he can withstand the Imperius curse-no. Even Snape cannot deny that Harry is incredibly talented in unique ways. (Dense perhaps at times, but that's what makes him human and interesting as a character). Harry is not, as Snape claims to Bella-"mediocre to the last degree".

A few questions then-

1) Why didn't Dumbledore give him the Dark Arts job until this year? Was it because of the curse? Because he knew it would bring out the worst in Snape? Because he wanted to keep him on staff as long as possible to keep a close watch on him and didn't want him in the cursed post? And why did he give it to him this year? My guess?: Because Dumbledore anticipated what was going to happen at the end of the year-he knew that his days were numbered. Snape is very talented in the Dark Arts and would be a good challenge to Harry's already high skills in what it would take to defeat Voldemort in the end (Snape is still teaching Harry in the end-he tells him that he must learn how to keep his 'mouth shut and his mind closed' to be any match in a real duel). I also find it interesting that what bothers Snape the most in that last confrontation is when Harry calls him a coward. Wow. That's a nerve.

2) How much about the situation did Snape understand during this scene with Bellatrix and Narcissa? My guess? Not at the beginning. He was probably just guessing. But with Narcissa in her weak, crying state-he may have perceived her thoughts through Legilimency. Perhaps Dumbledore thought something like this might happen and told him the correct action to take in such a situation?

Pay attention to the last two and a half pages. This whole unbreakable vow thing is ridiculously important. Snape's expression is so unreadable-so stoic here. Of the three things he promises-the last one is the one that gets him. His hand twitches and he hesitates in a way that he did not hesitate with the first two questions. He has no problem watching over Draco or protecting him-it's completing the task Draco's been given that worries him. Couple this along with the conversation Hagrid overhears and his hesitance on the tower and his anger at being called a coward and you have a veritable mess of proof to the contrary. Snape is good. Or on the side of good. As I said earlier, I think it's safe to assume that Snape will never be Godfather to any of Harry's children. He isn't likely to start nicknaming any of his children Severus, I don't think-but he is on the side of good, working for the same cause. It will be interesting to see how everything plays out.

So there it is. Snape is good. Joni is good. Joni is tired. Joni is going to go to bed.

It's a Wendy Bird!

Lame title, I know. But I was trying to think of something unexpected and happy (I hope) to kick off my first post in the aftermath of my England experience that was more interesting than what this blog is actually going to be about for the next little while: A place to write about my Harry Potter predictions (not without much bribery and tugging from the Liz corner). We had grandiose ideas about a tag team blog/discussion of sorts at one point when we were in Paris but the draw of the city and a bunch of museums was just too much, oddly enough.

Quick sum-up of the England experience: (I'm debating on whether or not it's worth trying to write about two months of experience in here or not. I think I'll just post bits and pieces from my essays)-Yes, it was amazing, no it didn't change my life, yes, it did give me some new perspectives on myself, yes I miss it, yes I would go back, no I wouldn't do it any time soon, yes I'm glad to be living out of a wardrobe again, no I don't miss the Metro, yes I do miss the tube, no I'm not married (that's for all the people in my ward who thought I'd have time to find someone on the trip *eyeroll*), yes, I enjoy being single, yes, I would like to publish the great American novel about England on the Fourth of July just for kicks.

Phew.

On to Harry Potter. As Liz explains on her blog (if you read it through), Scholastic Publishing has posted a series of questions for people to answer in poll form leading up to the publication of the seventh Harry Potter book next month. The polls themselves are a bit ridiculous. For example, at last count, Voldemort still had 73% (ish) of people convinced that he was going to live. In fact, his was the lowest. Meaning that roughly 73% of people don't think anyone is going to die in the next book (including those in the "other" category). This is, of course, absurd. Jo has told us repeatedly that people will die in this book. Dare I use the word delusional? However, the questions spark decent blog posts, so they aren't completely worthless. I'm not sure how I plan on going about this, but we'll just run with the feeling for a while.

So without any further ado, I proudly present:

Who will live and who will die?

Harry Potter: Live

Does there really need to be a debate about this? Sigh. Alright. Here we go: As the hero of the story, Harry kind of has to live for the story to work. The journey of a hero is represented by a circle. Harry enters the journey with the death of his parents who don't complete their journey because they are killed before they are able to break the chain. Harry must break free of this pattern or the story ends where it begins. That's a lot of ink/paper/time wasted to end up where you started. Yes, I know Jo has said that Harry could die but-let's be honest-would anyone have considered that possibility if she hadn't brought it up in the first place? Noooooo...she started that rumor and we've all lapped it up like thirsty dogs. Well, I haven't. But lots of people have. Harry has to win in the end because, as Dumbledore has said, the greater challenge is in living, not dying. Harry's greater challenge will be in finding a way to live after all this is over. I will say one thing for the Harry dying theory-if anyone can find a way to pull this off and make me believe it, it's Jo. I trust her as a writer to make me believe that if he does end up dying, it's the only way it can work.


Lord Voldemort: Dead. Dead. Dead.

Here's another one of those 'duh' questions. Seriously. Does anyone really have a good reason for Voldemort to live? The whole point of the series is to destroy him. If he's not destroyed then we've wasted a lot of time and money on a franchise.

Ron Weasley: Live(ish)

It's almost against my better judgment to mark Ron as a 'live' but I'm going to. A strong part of me says that of anyone in the trio has to die, he would be it. It's half-foreshadowed in the chess match from book one that Ron will pull the self sacrifice card. It's hard to believe that everyone in the trio will live. All the same though, I'm going to mark him as a live because I don't know that Ron's death would do anything for the plot. What is there to be gained in the metaphor with Ron dying? I don't know. It would be sad of course, but I don't know that it would do anything. Besides that, there's been a bunch of Hermione/Ron build up and stopping it short would make it all kind of wasted. And it would be nice for the trio as a whole to break the tradition of James/Sirius/Lupin/Peter-in dying. (Well, for two of them. Or three. I'm still waiting for Peter to kick it).

Hermione Granger: Live


If I'm struggling to find a point in killing Ron, I'm struggling even more to find a point in killing Hermione. She's the source of knowledge and wisdom to the trio-Ron's death would at least be symbolic. Killing Hermione...no. Just no.


Ginny Weasley: Live

I agree with Liz on this one. Jo has said many times over that Ginny is a very powerful, clever witch. She's Harry's equal in many ways-they've both been put through similar tests over the years. If you parallel the Cho/Cedric and Ginny/Harry storyline, Cho became the weepy (annoying) left over girlfriend to the dead Cedric-Ginny's too strong for that (and so is Harry, for that matter). No-Ginny's storyline has just begun. It wouldn't make any sense to kill her now. Not after introducing her and promising some great things from her. Plus. She has to marry Harry and have lots of cute red headed children. (And they can, you know-if Harry carries that red headed gene from his mother. Isn't it so nicely set up?!)

Neville Longbottom: Dead. More than dead.


Face it, he's a gonner. His death would fulfill the same purpose as Harry's since their lives are paralleled in so many ways. Yup. Neville's done for. Poor kid. He'll build up though and go down a hero. Take down Bellatrix. Do his parents proud. Then move on to the happy little corner in the sky reserved for people like Neville.


Luna Lovegood: Live

Again, where's the point in doing away with Luna? She's not vital enough to die, really. She's a more ethereal form of Hermione-she provides different kinds of wisdom. She's like a less grounded version of Galadriel. She'll help Harry come to terms with people who do die and go on to be a really great Quidditch commentator for the Wimbourne Wasps or something.

Hagrid: Die

I'm going to disagree with Liz and say that Hagrid could die. I mean-my ratios are a little off. I've got most of the main people living and someone has to go-so Hagrid could work. He's the last of the mentors (except Lupin but I'll talk about him in a bit). One of my friends pointed out something about the order in which Harry met people compared to the order they die in-he met Hagrid, then Dumbledore, then Sirius, then Cedric, and then Cedric died, Sirius-etc. I would contend that the theory has a flaw-well, he technically met Sirius earlier than this, and if you don't count that, then Harry "met" Cedric before Sirius through Quidditch-and even then the theory feels really contrived. Harry meets lots of people. All the same though, Hagrid's death could be somewhat symbolic. Ok-all these reasons are lame. I could see Hagrid living too. I'm saying that he'll die mainly to give myself a main character cushion. Because they can't all live, and Hagrid is a nice option for death. I'm heartless...

Dumbledore, Sirius, Cedric, Harry's Parents, all other dead people: Still dead. Check.

Snape/Malfoy: Livead


Here's where I've got a little wonderment going on. I don't think they'll both die. They would both be faced with a similar challenge to Harry in living after all this is over. If I had to pick right now I would say Snape would die and Draco would live (since he's kind of on the anti-hero's journey-the failed journey), but ask me again in five minutes and I'll change my mind. There is redemptive power in one of them turning to the good side and then dying, but it goes the other way as well. So I'll mark them as Livead because they could go one way or the other and still serve a good purpose for the message Jo seems to be working towards. And while we're talking about baddies-even if they live they won't be godfather to Harry's children any time soon. All those people who think that the entire wizarding world will hold hands and sing about perfect harmony with some coke after all this is over ...they're nuts.


Others-


Lupin and Tonks will live and get married and be happy (Lupin has to live for sake of carrying on the legacy of Harry's father and crew-another one of those 'break the trend' things). Other various members of the Order have to die-maybe Mad Eye will finally kick it. Kingsley. Someone we know about/care about for sake of emotional drama. McGonagall could die. A few other Hogwarts teachers. A Weasley or two (my vote is on Molly-maybe a twin-Percy). Papa Malfoy is dead. Bellatrix is dead. Greyback is dead. Moaning Myrtle is already dead. You know. Death dying destruction.


Coming soon: other answers to more pressing questions! Ohhhh boy...

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows- Cover Art

What with all my excitement over England, I've half forgotten that Harry Potter is ALSO coming out this summer! I don't know how I'll find room to be excited for both. It's going to be incredible. And for those of you who aren't aware (everyone but Liz, I'm sure), Harry Potter 7 cover art was released today-(see The Leaky Cauldron). What I see first hand (through British/American combonation)-in the American one we see Voldemort and Harry *both* reaching for something (not at each other) in what appears to be some kind of graveyard (what Jo mentioned during the filming of the third movie perhaps?) and Harry wearing a certain necklace...with a snake on it...(nudge wink). The UK kids edition has Ron/Harry/Hermione blasting backwards (look at the direction of the hair) through what looks like some kind of portal away from a pile of treasure (many of them are embelished by snakes). On the back is the UK version of Hogwarts (Ha. I knew it was coming back), and an image of Harry's patronus on the inside cover (plus a little bitty blurb about Harry waiting for the order to get him from Privet Drive. *yawn*. Last time they gave us so many more hints). The most interesting part though is the house elf behind Harry-pretty menacing from the looks of it-(bets on Kreacher) holding what looks like the sword of Gryffindor. And the gleam in Harry's glasses-going after a Horcrux, perhaps? The adult version just has the snake locket. Well. I'm going to go change the wallpaper on my computer and spend some time squeeling over the excitement of Harry 7...

The end of the world as I know it...

Here comes a post that is far from the prophetic heights I normally reach for, but indulge me a little because I'm about to wax sentimental...

Years ago, a little, strange looking-braces wearing Joni was going to Junior High School. In the middle of the year her English teacher handed out a book order that contained an offer for some very bad, and some very good books. Joni saw a few books that looked interesting...they had pretty covers...so she ordered them. Several weeks later Joni had in her backpack Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets and Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Joni read...Joni loved...Joni bought the first book and read it as well. She waited months for the fourth book, years for the fifth, and ages for the sixth...she theorized, she ranted, she scared people with her obsessiveness...

And now the end of that era is about to come, because ten years later, the last book of the series is finally coming out. Now, people who don't really know me all that well probably won't understand, but those of you who *do* know me well will understand that when I obsess about something, I *really* obsess about them. I don't hold back at all. I learn anything and everything on the topic of choice. Over the years I have become a walking encyclopedia on the Romanovs, or the sinking of the Titanic, or the history of Lucy Maud Montgomery or-as this post is about-Harry Potter. Harry Potter really has defined my years growing up. When I started reading the series I was a girl on the verge of teenager hood and by the time this book comes out I will have officially moved beyond that stage of my life.

As sentimental and sappy and unoriginal as it sounds, Harry Potter really did help me out growing up. Hermione especially taught me that it was alright to be smart. Really, in the first few books we don't see Hermione with a lot of friends other than Ron and Hermione. It isn't until book four/five that we see her spending time with Ginny as well and even then she's not the most popular girl around. I could relate to that. I'm not saying I'm the smartest person in the world, but I do know what it is like to be made fun of for being the teacher's pet. I know what it's like to hear people saying horrible things about you. Most people do. These books are incredible really-they got my brother reading again. They got half of America reading again. They've taken the world by storm and if you haven't read them you've probably seen the movies, and if you haven't done that then you're probably one of the groups of people out there who think they'll turn into witches for reading them (or who aren't reading them out of rebellion against pop culture, but I'm here to tell you-I liked them before they were a huge hit, so everyone can get in line behind me for book 7).

Anyway. I don't have time, and I'm sure you don't really care, to hear any more about Harry Potter-but let's just say that today has made me think a bit about what's in store for a world after Potter. I've been (ugh, not to quote Hillary Clinton) living history as I've watched all this unfold, and it's exciting. It's *really* exciting.

Only...six months and twenty days to go :) And I'm telling you all right now-Harry won't die. If you want *that* rant, then just tell me that you think he will, and expect a six page long post about the history of the hero's journey.

Why I could never be a politician...

I'm going to wax lyrical for a second. Or something like it. I've been thinking about politicians recently and how they work. Most of this is because of a project I'm working on for my Pen and the Sword class where I'm comparing rhetoric of politicians and seeing exactly what it is about a speech that moves a crowd. I'm using two speeches from the same war (Peloponnesian War) on opposite sides, and a speech from Churchill and Hitler in World War II for the analysis. And I've been thinking about reasons why I could never enter politics as a result.

One reason is that I'm just not competitive enough. I like competition-sure. Ask anyone who has ever played me in a game of Harry Potter trivia. I'm a menace. But stuff like that (I can't believe I'm saying this!), doesn't really matter. Out trivia-ing someone doesn't really make a difference in the universe and politics can. I'm competitive, but only in things that don't really matter.

Going along with that is my desire to see both sides of an argument. This happens when you're an English major. You're taught to see both sides of an argument so that you can successfully crush your opponent to dust in a debate or a paper, etc. My problem for major arguments is that I can see that both sides have a valid point and I can't pick which one is better. (Guess this means I couldn't be a lawyer too). I end up using the typical "it depends on the circumstances" routine (which I guess would make me a decent modern politician, wouldn't it?) Either way-I'm not very decisive. I take the middle ground more often than not and I don't think I really want to be adopted into either party because of the extremes.

The last, and probably biggest reason is one that everyone knows about-the mud slinging campaigns that have become the trend. I find it so ironic that politicians spend so much time attacking the character of the opponent. Shouldn't a viewer of a commercial/ad/whatever find it funny? I do. Politicians are, essentially, making themselves seem petty while they try and make their opponents look that way too. (Or at least their campaign managers are). How often do we hear politicians discuss actual issues without pointing fingers? It's ridiculous. And most people agree on this, but no one is really willing to change it so my soap box here is completely wasted. I do think, however, that it is unfortunate.

And I'll keep you updated on the report I'm doing. I think it could be kind of interesting. I may have to modify my comments afterwards...

I'm sorry, that *offends* me.

I hate that word. Offends. The way that word is thrown around on BYU campus is ridiculous.

I had a conversation with two people from one of my English classes today while on campus that frustrated me. (Not offended, frustrated. There's a difference). One of the girls was saying that every actor or actress is a prostitute because all of them are selling something. (I assume she means their bodies). I pointed out that I'm an actress (or claim to be one, I've done enough theater to deserve the title, I think), and that I don't agree with her. I said that while there are plenty of very public people out there that have certainly given off the impression that they want to be selling themselves to...whatever (the name that comes to mind for me is Lindsey Lohan). But I would hardly say that all actors and actresses both on and off the stage are selling themselves.

She went on to say that people who play bad characters are selling something. She said that people sympathize with the bad characters. Fantine, in Les Miz for example. She said that Fantine does bad things (prostitution) to save her daughter and that she's glorified as a heroine for her prostitution.

Good. Gravy.

This reminds me of most of the Banned Books Week type arguments we read about as English majors. Parents wanting to keep their kids from books that deal with death or with really evil characters or subjects because it could teach their kids to glorify evil. Books like Huck Finn, or (my personal favorite), Harry Potter. Or Catch 22. The Bible (*gasp*!) . It gets pretty ridiculous.

Pulls out the blogging soap box.

I don't want my kids to be evil. Who does?! What parent decides to raise their kid to be the next Hitler? No parent I want to know of. But sheltering your kids from the extreme evils of the world aren't going to make them go away. Hiding from 'questionable' material isn't going to stop it from spreading. And I mean this within reason. We shouldn't go and watch porn-films just so we know what goes on in them so we know what to avoid. That's not my point. My point is this: Shouldn't these books/plays/movies teach us to sympathize with the evil characters of the world? Or the characters that aren't so virtuous? What is so wrong with that?

Fantine for example. She does something evil to bring about good. She sells herself to prostitution (knowing that it's wrong), in order to save her child. She decends below all to save the life of another. Are we seeing a metaphor here? I hope so. What mother wouldn't do that for her child? Wouldn't it be more selfish for her to sit around? Knowing the conditions of France at the time Les Miz takes place, and knowing the options for single women...there really wasn't much else she could do.

I feel bad for Voldemort in Harry Potter. I feel bad for Javert in Les Miz. I feel badly for them because I see what has happened to them. They end up alone, and miserable in spite of their power. Does that mean I'm going to join ranks with them (even though they are fictional-work with me), to empathize with them a bit more? No. But we need oposition. The scriptures make that clear all over the place. There must be extreme evil so that there is a chance for extreme good. I don't want to read a book about a hero who isn't flawed. That's boring! I don't want to see a play where all the characters sit around singing "Sunshine Day" and talking about happy religious things. That's not life. I can't relate to that. There needs to be a struggle.

I don't think that writing this will accomplish much. To be honest, my friends that read this and any other random people out there that read this will probably agree with me. Mostly because I've spoken with the people who read this, and I've already talked with them about this. And writing letters of protest to the world about why banning Harry Potter is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard of will not change the fact that parents out there are worried about their kids turning into mini witches and wizards overnight because of a fantasy book.

So in response to my classmate-I'm sorry you feel that way. Really sorry. Because in spite of the terrible shows that are out there, and the horrible literature, and the pornographic films that really are selling something-there are still good, virtuous kinds of media out there. I'm sorry that there are people out there who take advantage of the bodies they are given to present themselves in terrible ways, but I cannot agree that all films/books/plays are evil. We need evil characters or there won't be good characters. If I choose to portray a character in a play that is bad, or even evil, I hope that I would do so in order to make the real hero that much more heroic. So stop being offended and realize that for every bad film, there are several more good ones out there that can uplift and inspire.

And...just for her information-I'm pretty sure President Hinkley said that his favorite book (outside of scripture) was Les Miz. Oh...and read up on Elder Bednar's talk from the last conference for more information on being offended.

Soap box over. I'm off to go read something evil.