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I’ve been a big fan of the Harry Potter film series, especially the David Yates-directed installments, but I had mixed feeling about the latest movie, Deathly Hallows Part 1. The visuals were genuinely amazing, and it built an strong sense of dread in its first hour. But like everyone else, I thought the story dragged.

There were just too many plot coupons. I was occasionally confused about exactly what the heroes were trying to accomplish in a particular scene, and when one of them mentioned the number of magical doohickeys they still had to destroy, I thought, “Oh my God, how am I going to sit through that?”

I’ve been thinking more about my response since listening to the /Filmcast episode on Deathly Hallows, in which host David Chen delivers a persuasive rant about how the series has failed to deliver any films that really work as films, rather than as fan service for people who like the books. I am, of course, a big fan of the books (I read Sorcerer’s Stone through Prisoner of Azkaban in a single weekend, then pulled all nighters to finish each of the subsequent books), so I wondered: Is that me? Am I just enjoying the chance to see my favorite scenes from the books acted out?

Last night I rewatched the best movie in the series, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, and it really was as good as I remembered. The design and cinematography may be the most impressive I’ve seen in a fantasy film, Gary Oldman gives Sirius Black real pathos, and the script is compelling and tight.

In many ways, I think Order of the Phoenix is the perfect book for a cinematic adaptation. It has a strong plot -- the conflict between Harry and the Ministry of Magic provides more complexity than the standard good vs. evil of Harry vs. Voldemort -- but also plenty of flaws that encourage a filmmaker to offer their own take. Even J.K. Rowling has admitted that she would have probably shortened the book if she’d had more time to work on it (it’s the longest in the series). The film isn’t a radical reinterpretation, but the script is streamlined, not just eliminating minor plot threads but also condensing or replacing multiple scenes with montages and fun visual conceits.

Apparently, even before starting the film, Yates said that his goal was to make the shortest Potter film yet. I think that pays off in Order of the Phoenix’s pacing, and the way it feels like a “real movie”. I wish Yates had taken a similarly iconoclastic approach to Deathly Hallows, rather than following Rowling’s overly relaxed storytelling.

And yet … in a column about about an (apparently terrible) comics adaptation of The Alchemist, critic Douglas Wolk offers a great distillation of what we should look for when a novel or other work is adapted: “If you adapt a work from one medium to another, there has to be something it can gain from the new medium to make up for what it will inevitably lose from its original medium.”

Judged by that standard, Deathly Hallows Part 1 does just fine. Think of the fast, thrilling magic battle in a late-night London coffee shop. Or the beautifully awkward dance between Harry and Hermione. Or Rhys Ifans’ funny, fumbling, and finally oddly moving performance as Xenophilius Lovegood. And if none of that is enough to win you over, take solace in the fact that Deathly Hallows Part 2 is going to be amazing.

 
 
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[This post spoils the ending of Inception, and is also pretty much incomprehensible if you haven’t seen the movie.]

So Alice just sent me a long email arguing that it doesn’t matter whether the ending of Inception is a dream or not. It was more persuasive and thoughtful than almost anything I'd read about the movie, but I still disagreed. Strongly. So I ended up writing her an equally long response, and I figured I might as well share it here too:

The film’s climax is Cobb’s confrontation with Mal in limbo. During their conversation, Cobb realizes two key things: 1) That to a certain extent, he can alleviate his grief and guilt with the fact that he and Mal actually did grow old together during their decades in limbo. 2) That the person he's confronting is just a projection of his own mind. She is not Mal.

So Cobb finds meaning and solace in his years with Mal, even though they occurred in a purely mental dreamscape, because he shared them with another human being. Conversely, he leaves his fantasies of Mal and his children at the end, even though the decision causes him insane heartache, because he will be alone if he stays. That’s not just a “possible” reading of the scene, it’s exactly what Cobb says to Mal when explaining why he won’t stay: “I wish. I wish more than anything. But I can’t imagine you with all your complexity, all your perfection, all your imperfection. Look at you. You are just a shade of my real wife. You’re the best I can do, but I’m sorry, you are just not good enough.”

Then there are two ways to look at Cobb's decision to walk away from the spinning top. It might be that Cobb doesn't care whether or not that he's dreaming. But this interpretation makes a complete hash out of the earlier scene, because it means Cobb has simply traded one solipsistic world for another.

I also think "it doesn't matter whether I'm dreaming" is just a really weird and disturbing way to look at life, even if you read “dream” as a stand-in for “movie.” Yes, there are movies that have incredible value to me even though they’re completely fictional. Ditto dreams I’ve had. That doesn’t mean we shouldn't distinguish between dreams/movies and real life. If Cobb doesn't care whether he's dreaming, that basically turns Inception into the anti-Truman Show or anti-Matrix, with a hero who chooses a happy fantasy over the unhappy reality. It also means that Cobb is a bad dad who decides, "Well, fuck, it doesn't matter whether or not my kids actually get to be with their father, as long as I can trick myself into thinking that they are."

The alternative interpretation, suggested to me by Devindra, is that Cobb walks away because he doesn't need the totem to tell him what's real. Frankly, I don't find that satisfying on a plot or character level either (I'm not a big fan of the ending, regardless of interpretation), but it does kind of resonate with what happens earlier.We know Mal is irreparably damaged by her time in limbo, because she can no longer tell the difference between dream and reality. We know Cobb is healed because he finally can tell the difference.