Yates finally explains why he didn't trust Rowling's ending

It was quite stunning, really. 

 I have wondered for several years what could possibly have possessed screenwriter Steve Kloves and director David Yates when they decided to change J.K. Rowling's practically perfect ending to The Deathly Hallows.

David Yates: Praying for inspiration

Now, after watching the recent Harry Potter 20^th Anniversary: Return to Hogwarts special, I finally have my answer.

And it only makes me more incensed.

 

As you will recall, Rowling ends the Battle of Hogwarts in epic seventh novel with Harry and Voldemort, circling, circling, while the crowds of Hogwarts defenders and Deatheaters look on, mesmerised.

 

Molly Weasley had finally defeated Bellatrix Lestrange, the wizarding world has risen up to vanquish the Dark Forces and all that remains is for Harry to fulfill his destiny and bring down the Dark Lord once and for all.

It's a wonderfully tense and emotional scene. Harry distracts Voldemort from casting the final curse by telling him of Dumbledore's plans, both those that worked perfectly and those that didn't quite work out the way the Headmaster had intended. And then, as the sun breaks over the horizon, the two wizards cast their best spells and Voldemort, his own killing curse rebounding on him and the Elder Wand declaring its allegiance to Harry, its rightful owner, falls down dead.

Human. Finally and fully human.

All of the themes Rowling had been weaving so carefully through the books come to a point in this final scene, this final moment.

Perfect.

But not good enough for Kloves and Yates. Or, as it turns out, for Yates alone.

In the recent retrospective special, the director takes full credit (or blame, to be honest) for the ultimate filmic insult to Rowling's amazing work.

David Yates says this of the final battle between Harry and Voldemort:

Yates, fumbling the ending

When looking at the book, the final confrontation between Voldemort and Harry takes place in the Great Hall with a huge audience watching. And I really wanted something earthier and more intense and more visceral than that. Because these two adversaries were almost joined spiritually if you like in this strange Horcruxy way. I thought, wouldn’t it be wonderful if Dan just grabbed Raif and pulled him off this tower?

 

As they apparate, they are merged together. That deep connection that we had sort of threaded through the stories and the films you’d visualise in that moment before they tumbled into the courtyard.

 

As well as the physical challenge of making the films, there was that small pressure of thinking: you’re the one who is going to finish this. It has to go out on a high. It has to be meaningful. It has to resonate. It has to deliver.

The problem, Mr. Yates, is that the final battle as written by J.K. Rowling was meaningful, it resonates, it delivers. You should have trusted her. You should have recognised the poet and simply followed the plan she so masterfully set out for you.

In making the ridiculous changes you made, you took the soul out of the ending. You made that final confrontation mano a mano, a macho combat between two individuals rather than the final, almost anti-climactic moment where the common good, the collective society won out and the great monster that had enthralled and terrorised the world for so long was revealed as nothing more than a human being, around much had been built.

Harry didn't defeat Voldemort by himself -- he, Hermione and Ron hunted down the Horcruxes and one by one destroyed them, bringing Voldemort step by step closer to his end; Neville played a role, killing the snake, as did Hagrid, and McGonagall, and Kingsley, the House Elves, the Centaurs, the Weasleys, the families of the Hogwartians, the people of Hogsmeade and so many others.

Mr. Yates, you failed to understand what Rowling had built, so poetically, so artfully, over the course of the seven novels and, in making the final battle between Voldemort and Harry an epic battle, filled with flashes and explosions, fought in front of no one, you proved yourself an exceptional technician but no artist.

 

And you did a disservice to the stories were you entrusted to bring to the screen.

Cancel ALL year-end exams? Not likely

The Chamber -- film and novel

At the end of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Hogwarts administration announces that "the exams had been cancelled as a school treat" to celebrate the resolution of the Chamber problem and the saving of the school from the Basilisk that lurked within.

It's a nice moment... but, in the context of the entire series of novels, it makes no sense.

As we learn in later novels, Hogwarts puts students through two sets of incredibly important examinations (OWLs and NEWTs) at specific points in their academic journeys (after fifth and seventh years). Each has a distinct impact on the student's academic and professional careers and we see the hero trio agonize over their OWLs in The Order of the Phoenix. In fact, Harry, Hermione and Ron's experience in book five suggests that students begin preparing for their major exams very early in the academic year (and often the year before). The exams are important enough, and tough enough, that students need to work long and hard to prepare for them.

So there is virtually no chance that year-end exams for all students would be cancelled for any reason. Sure, it might be possible for the school to cancel exams for students in their first, second, third, fourth and sixth years but it is inconceivable that OWL and NEWT examinations would be cancelled in any year. From what we learn in later novels, the students would have to sit these exams at some point. So I think it is clear that the students who have been working so hard and so long to prepare for them would revolt against the thought that they would be postponed for any period of time.

I first noticed this issue when I recently re-watched the film version of the story. And I immediately blamed screen writer Stephen Kloves. In having Dumbledore announce the cancellation at the year-end speech, I thought Kloves was, of his own volition, taking things a step too far.

Then I checked Rowling's original novel and found this: "or Professor McGonagall standing up to tell them all that exams had been cancelled as a school treat". 

So I was wrong to blame Kloves (Sorry, Stephen).

But it does raise questions about how detailed J.K. Rowling's planning was when she wrote the second novel around 1998, a subject that, as a wannabe writer who finds Rowling's accomplishment in creating the Wizarding World absolutely amazing, is of significant interest to me.

It seems clear to me that, at the point that she was writing The Chamber of Secrets, Rowling had not yet developed in detail the academic journey students go on when they attend Hogwarts. The inclusion of the cancellation of year-end exams for all students in the second book is evidence that, in 1998, the concept of the OWLs and NEWTs was still to be created.

I am not saying this is a big deal. The seven novels are remarkably consistent and it is clear that, even if Rowling in 1998 had not yet developed details to the level of year-end exams, the author accomplished something remarkable in inventing such an incredibly detailed world as she went through the process of writing the seven novels.

But it is interesting to me and indicative of how difficult it can be to do what Rowling did so well -- plan a complex world and then write it over the course of a decade. I don't think it's possible to get every detail right in the early novels when the process of writing the later novels requires thousands of decisions, thousands of details, thousands of considerations as to what will make each book dramatic and effective.

That being said, I am going to read into ending of The Chamber of Secrets that only some exams were cancelled and that students facing their OWLs and their NEWTs were still required to sit their examinations.

Nobody graduates from Hogwarts; they just leave

Have you ever noticed that there is almost no mention made of students actually graduating from Hogwarts in in any of the seven Harry Potter novels?

I mean, sure, some of the students we know (like Oliver Wood, Percy Weasley and Penelope Clearwater) clearly complete their studies and move on into the post-Hogwarts lives, and many adults in the books recall their days at Hogwarts fondly, but we never actually see, or even hear of, a graduation ceremony.

I went back and read the final sections of all seven books and, even at the "end-of-year" or "leaving" feast (the final celebration in the spring is called the former in the first three years and the latter after year four), there is absolutely no mention made of graduation, no congratulations offered to students who had completed their studies, no celebration of the class of students that is leaving Hogwarts to begin their careers.

In year one, Harry attends the end-of-year feast and Dumbledore's reported comments focus only on the House Cup and awarding additional points to Harry and crew.

In year two, Harry also attends and we only read about Hermione's return, Gryffindor winning the House Cup for a second year in a row, exams being cancelled and Gilderoy Lockhart not returning in the upcoming year.

The report on the end-of-year feast after year three is even shorter, with confirmation that Gryffindor won the House Cup yet again.

In year four, perhaps not surprisingly, the much longer scene focuses on the death of Cedric Diggory and the return of Lord Voldemort. No mention of the winner of the House Cup at all.

At the end of year five, we are not even sure if Harry made it to the feast since, devastated at having lost Sirius Black, Harry is first distracted by Nearly-Headless Nick and then by Luna on his way to the Great Hall.

There is apparently no final feast in year six since the focus is on the death of Dumbledore.

And, of course, there isn't even really a school year for Harry, Ron and Hermione in year seven since they are on the run for the entire book, returning only for the Battle of Hogwarts at the very end.

It's interesting that Rowling paid so little attention to the fact that seventh-year students were actually graduating from her beloved school.

And perhaps even more interesting that each of the last four books ends with a significant death: Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore and finally Voldemort.

I don't have any brilliant thoughts or insights into why this may be but I do find it interesting.

And the women shall lead

So Space Channel in Canada is showing the Harry Potter films all through the Victoria Day holiday weekend. I have them on blu-ray, of course, but I always find watching movies on television much more interesting than watching my own copies of them.

As anyone who has read this blog will know, I am not a fan of the movies that were made, loosely based as they were, out of J.K. Rowling's books. That being said, I have also tried to be fair and honest in identifying those areas where I feel the films have enhanced or, by necessity of the medium, adapted the books in a meaningful, interesting way.

I've just sat down in front of the television to watch the last hour of the second part of The Deathly Hallows. The first scene I saw takes place in the Great Hall where Snape demands that the students and staff of Hogwarts turn in Harry Potter and he, instead, emerges from the crowd of students to challenge Snape and, by doing so, set up the final battle of Hogwarts.

I don't love it, overall. But I love Snape in this scene ("ee - qual - lee") and I love the feeling of, I don't know how to describe it, triumph of having Harry emerge to challenge him and McGonagall step forward to defend Harry.

And it is not lost on me that McGonagall and Molly Weasley, two strong adult female characters, step forward to duel with Snape. And, even further, I love the fact the first people to step forward to protect Harry after Pansy Parkinson tries to convince the student mob to turn him over to Voldemort are women: first Ginny, then Hermione, then Cho Chang, then Katie Bell and Parvati Patil, and, as several males start to join Harry's defenders, Lavender Brown.

Add one more detail: Luna Lovegood is the one, in the film, who tells Harry not to bother to go to the Ravenclaw common room but to find, instead, the ghost of the Helena Ravenclaw to help him track down the diadem.

These are pretty strong feminist moments. While two men stand at the centre of the final conflict, it is women who provide the primary, immediate and on-going support to Harry in winning that battle. It's really quite wonderful... and unexpected, considering the fact that Rowling, for all the opportunities she had to fill the Harry Potter books with strong, dominating female characters, too often failed miserably in that regard.

While I love the books and tolerate the movies, I have to admit that, at times, the films are better than the books when it comes to their depiction of women.

"I haven't read the books but I'm a huge fan" -- AARRGGHH

We've all had this conversation:

"You're a Harry Potter fan?" someone says to us. "So am I! I must have seen each of the movies a dozen times!"

You: "What about the books?"

Someone: "Oh, I haven't read the books. But I'm a HUGE fan!"

Doesn't that make you want to scream? Can we not all agree that, if you have not actually read J.K. Rowling's original Harry Potter novels, then...

YOU'RE NOT A HARRY POTTER FAN!

I don't care how many times you've watched those ridiculous movies. I don't care that you know the film dialogue off by heart and that you can name the actor who played the auror who is standing at the gates of Hogwarts when Harry trudges up, his face bloodied, near the start of the film version of The Half-Blood Prince, or that you think the portrayal of Draco Malfoy is simply dreamy.

If you have not read the books, even once, you are not a real Harry Potter fan.

That's why I can't stand Harry Potter trivia events these days. In North America, at least, the organisers' idea of a show stopper, a stumper, a question that separates the fans from the wannabes, is something ridiculous like: Who was the gaffer on the second movie? I don't know and I don't care. I can barely watch the films at all, not to mention studying their ludicrously long credits to prepare for a trivia contest. Ask me about Rowling's world, her characters, her plots, her details... don't ask me about the movies.

What is happening in American society is that the movies are replacing the original books as the canon of Harry Potter. This is ridiculous. The movies are fine as stand alone projects -- some of them are even mildly entertaining -- but they cannot and must not replace Rowling's works as the foundation of Harry Potter fandom.

Not only are the film versions significantly inferior to the books as stories, as narratives, as world-builders -- they are flawed even as films. They are internally inconsistent and self-contradictory. They have plot and character-development gaps through which you could fly a hippogriff and they undermine many of the most praiseworthy of the themes, of the creative decisions, of the original books.

I have described many of what I perceive to be the films' shortcomings in other blog posts so I won't rehash all of that now. Suffice it to say, in my Harry Potter fandom, if you haven't read the books, you're not a Harry Potter fan. Okay?

At last, my Hogwarts acceptance letter

I have been accepted to Hogwarts School, the best school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. That's what the letter I received today says. It's about four decades too late but at least it got here.

 In fact, I got the whole Hogwarts acceptance package: the letter, the list of supplies and books, the train ticket. Very very exciting. I even tweeted to J.K. Rowling to ask her help in finding the Leaky Cauldron and the entrance to Diagon Alley -- I have a lot to buy and I'm not sure Canada has its own magical mall.

I believe that my sister Lynn created these exquisite reproductions (because, let's face it, they're not real... unfortunately) and they have instantly become one of my favourite Harry Potter items, alongside my Gryffindor scarf (also hand-crafted by Lynn), my Grim tea cup and my Harry Potter shelf, all hand-made, one-of-a-kind items.

And these are perfect reproductions. Gorgeous and perfect in every way. The envelope came tied with a string, with the red Hogwarts seal on the back. And, if I'm not mistaken, the letter is perfect, right down to the signatures, while nothing is missed from the supply list enclosed.

I especially love the train ticket, which is plasticised slightly, to keep it firm and clean. I'm not sure everyone in the world would be as enthralled by this little package as I am but I guess that's the nature of presents: they are intended to please and delight the receiver. And, if my sister's excited anticipation of my opening the gift over the past two weeks is any indication, she's as delighted by this as I am!

The imperfect choice for Prefect

Help me figure something out. I'm re-reading The Order of the Phoenix and I've just come to the part where Ron and Hermione receive their Prefect badges from Hogwarts.

A big deal is made about the fact that Harry was not chosen instead of Ron -- everyone thought he would be -- and, if I recall correctly, Dumbledore will eventually explain to Harry, at the end of the book, that he didn't want to put any more pressure on our hero than he was already facing.

Good enough.

But tell me why Dumbledore would name Draco Malfoy a prefect for Slytherin. The headmaster is well aware that Draco's dad is a confirmed Death Eater. He knows that Draco is Harry's nemesis and that, with the powers of a Prefect, Draco would have a great deal more power to bother, upset and harass Harry throughout the year.

So why, if Dumbledore is worried about putting too much additional pressure on Harry, does he name Draco a Prefect? Why not someone else? Even Crabbe or Goyle would be a better choice, since they are too stupid to be really harmful to Harry. Even if Draco is telling them what to do, their thickness would provide something of a buffer and the fact that Dumbledore refused to recognize Draco as a Prefect should make Harry feel a little bit better about being passed over.

The only think I can think of is that the Ministry intervened in these choices as well. Maybe Lucius paid Fudge to force Dumbledore to name Draco as Prefect. We see Draco's dad and the Minister of Magic together at the start of the book -- perhaps that's when the demand was made and granted.

I simply cannot believe Dumbledore would make this choice on his own.

Viktor goes for an icy swim

I am a huge Harry Potter fan (why else would I have this blog?).


I have read each of the seven Harry Potter novels at least 20 times and likely more often. I have listened to the novels on CD several times and am now in the process of reading them again in their French translations. I have watched the eight movies numerous times too.


You would think that, after all that, it would not be possible for me to learn something new about the stories in a subsequent re-reading.


Well, you would be wrong to think that.


I am currently reading The Goblet of Fire in French. It's great. It's fun and face-paced and the first really complicated, more adult of the novels.


I am at the point in the novel where Rita Skeeter has revealed to the wizarding world Hagrid's scandalous secret -- that he is a half-giant. Hagrid is in hiding. Harry decides he wants to go to Hogsmeade on the Saturday in hopes of finding his massive friend and telling him to stop being silly and to come back to work.


As Harry, Hermione and Ron walk across the frigid grounds of Hogwarts towards the gates, they see Viktor Krum emerge onto the deck of the Durmstrang ship, strip down to his bathing suit and dive into the icy waters of the school's lake. In response to Harry's expression of shock at Krum's decision to brave the cold, Hermione explains that Durmstrang is located in a much colder climate and that Krum probably finds the water to be quite temperate.


And off they go to Hogsmeade, Krum's odd behavior drifting from their minds -- and from mine as well.


Did you know that, after all my readings of the novel, this is the first time I made the connection that Krum's decision to go for a swim must be connected to the clue in the golden egg for the second task? That he might just be out for a swim to explore the lake and perhaps scout out the path to the Merpeople's village?


I permitted Hermione (and Rowling) to convince me it was just quirky behavior on the part of the Durmstrang champion and to think nothing further of it.


How clever are they? How stupid am I to be so easily led astray? And what of Harry?


Cedric Diggory has already given him the cryptic clue about taking the egg into the bath, a clue neither Harry nor we as readers are ready to accept as being legitimate and honest.


And here is a second champion making a very strange decision, one that is also directly related to immersing oneself in water.


I can't believe I missed this. I can't believe Harry missed it. If Harry had shared Cedric's hint with Hermione, I am sure she would have connected the dots and pointed out to Harry that Krum's mid-winter swim must be related to the egg and the second task.


So, while I find myself amazed that I have failed to make this connection until now, I am somewhat comforted by the fact that Harry didn't make the connection either.


Once Krum worked out the clue, his ability to swim in the cold winter water of the Hogwart's lake must have given him a distinct advantage over the other champions in that he had months to explore the lake and plan his strategy.


It seems so obvious now...

Lost in Translation: on horses, hares and hairs

Hey, remember that scene in The Goblet of Fire where Madame Maxime, having just arrived at Hogwarts with her students, tells Dumbledore she wants to make sure her horses are okay and Dumbledore assures her that her hair is coiffed to perfection?  Remember how funny that was?

No?

You don't remember that scene at all?

Well, maybe that's because it never happened. Not in the original novel. Not in the film made of that novel.

Unless you read Harry Potter in the French translation.

Then it happens.

The French words for "horses" and "hair" are very similar: "chevaux" and "cheveux", I believe. And, in an attempt to capture the fact that Madame Maxime speaks English with a heavy accent in the original novel, the French translator, Jean-Francois Menard, has her speak French with a thick accent in the French translation of the novel.

That accent involves the addition of a number of Es and Us to many of her words, which means, when she wants to refer to the massive horses that pulled the Beauxbatons carriage to Hogwarts, she uses the word "cheveux" rather than "chevaux".

Hence, Dumbledore's confusion.

It's only the second time, as I read the Potter novels in Menard's wonderful translations, that a section has jumped out at me as being quite clearly new, not in the original. And that's because the cheveux/chevaux pun could only exist in the French translation: "horse" and "hair" don't sound similar in English (though it raises the interesting prospect of the Beauxbatons carriage being drawn by massive hares, which may have led Rowling to introduce Dumbledore's confusion in the original English novel but would, ironically, not have permitted Menard to use it in the French).

Two things pop out at me, however, as a result of Madame Maxime's thick accent in French in general and the cheveux/chevaux pun in particular:

1. Since I am reading these books, which I know so well in English, in the French translation to help me improve my French comprehension, the introduction of Madame Maxime's accent is NOT HELPING! I am already having to look up numerous terms in the French dictionary as it is, and I am already struggling to recognise when a word is a made up magic word and won't actually appear in any dictionary, so it doesn't help me one bit when the only significant character in the book who ACTUALLY SPEAKS FRENCH speaks it poorly. Arghhhhh!!!!
2. I wonder how often Mr Menard indulges himself in this way, adding his own little jokes and comments into the French translation. I think I mentioned in an earlier post that Menard had added some dialogue among the Beauxbatons students in the darkened wood at the Quidditch World Cup -- now he's adding little jokes of his own later in the same book. Hmmm.... If I am a French-speaking Harry Potter fan, who reads the books solely (or primarily) in French, would these little additions of Menard's be considered canonical? Also, does this mean I have to read the books in all the other languages into which it has been translated, just to make sure I have read all of Potter? What does J.K. Rowling think of these kinds of translationary indulgences?

On a final note, I have to admit, this situation I find myself in where English speaking characters speak French in the French translation of the novel and French speaking characters speak French in the French translation of the book and yet they don't understand each other and then some French speaking characters speak French with a strong accent such that they are difficult to understand....

Wait a minute. Characters who speak English in the original speak French in the translation. Characters who speak French in the original speak French in the translation. Yet the first set of characters cannot understand the second set of characters and vice versa. At times, however, the second set of characters actually speak accented English in the original, which, in the translation, becomes accented French such that the first set of characters understand them better than when they are speaking normal French but not perfectly.

I am beginning to think that French readers of Harry Potter must be a heck of a lot smarter than I am in order to figure all this out.

All of that being said, Menard does a wonderful job on this translation. I found the "Unforgivable Curses" ("des Sortileges Impardonnables") scene with Moody and the fourth year class even more gripping in translation than I did in the original... and that's saying something.

Best school trip ever

I am impressed with the generosity of Madame Maxime and Beauxbatons.


In the scene I discuss (in a very confusing fashion, I am sure) in my last post, the Beauxbatons students are looking for Madame Maxime, their headmaster, as the Death Eaters terrorize the campgrounds at the Quidditch World Cup.


That would suggest that the students went to the World Cup, in England, as part of a class trip. They don't look for their parents -- they look for their headmaster.


That's a pretty awesome school trip. We learned early in The Goblet of Fire that tickets to the World Cup final are both highly sought-after and expensive. Kudos to Beauxbatons and the parents of these kids for making a class trip out of it!


Certainly Dumbledore doesn't seem to have considered taking a bunch of Hogwarts students to the game.


Of course, from a dramatic standpoint, it is helpful for J.K. to introduce the idea of other schools of witchcraft and wizardry around the world early in the novel, in a realistic way, so that when the Tri-Wizard Tournament is launched and the contingents from the rival schools arrive at Hogwarts, the big moment is not bogged down by a lot of explanation and exposition.


But, still, that's a pretty awesome class trip.

Keeping Harry safe from Sirius Black

Let's see now. You are aware that Sirius Black is bent on murdering Harry Potter. You know exactly where Harry Potter is every moment of every day. And you know, after several close calls, that Sirius Black has somehow found a way to get passed Hogwarts' increased security and into the Gryffindor Common Room.


If you are Albus Dumbledore, wouldn't you increase the level of security around Harry himself?


From what I can see in re-reading The Prisoner of Azkaban, there is at no time a focus by school officials on keeping Harry, personally, safe. Sure, they batten down the hatches at the school and bring in the Dementors but they never say to themselves: maybe Harry should be moved to a more secure location when he sleeps, say in Dumbledore's office or somewhere like that.


It's odd. I know, it certainly wouldn't help the suspense much if Harry were completely secure and out of danger. But it would make better sense.

It's not all about you, mate

In honouring Snape, Harry hoped in his heart that he too would be forgiven. The deaths at the Battle of Hogwarts would haunt Harry forever.

So stated J.K. Rowling in a tweet response to the argument over why Harry and Ginny would name one of their children, at least in part, after Severus Snape.


Whenever I read the later Harry Potter books, I just wish someone had pulled Harry aside and said, as clearly as possible, "Look mate, this is NOT all and only about you. No one is sacrificing themselves for you. This is a battle over our freedom; this is a battle of good versus evil. Just because you happen to have been placed at the centre of it, that doesn't mean we are fighting and dying for or because of you. Stop trying to make this all about you."


Ron makes a speech like this in the first part of The Deathly Hallows film and it is one of the very few things about that film that I actually like.


Because a speech like that needed to be made. Harry needed to get off his high horse and realize that the war was much bigger than him. He needed to understand that the battle was not all about him, any victory was not to his credit alone and any defeat did not fall entirely on his shoulders.


I read quotes like the one at the top of this entry from Rowling and I wonder what she really feels:


1. Is she making the point that Harry is a flawed individual, with a bit of an egotistical streak, who actually continues to believe that this was all about him and that, therefore, he is responsible for the "deaths at the Battle of Hogwarts" such that he needs to be forgiven for them? or


2. Does she, as the author, truly believe that he requires forgiveness? That the battle and the deaths were his fault?


I trust... I sincerely hope that the first possibility is true.

Is Snape good or evil? Is he even really one character?

Is Snape good? Or is Snape evil?


According to a report on the CNN website, that argument has again erupted, this time in the Twittersphere and this time focusing on why Harry and Ginny would choose to name their son "Albus Severus", honouring both Harry's biggest mentor and guide in the wizarding world, a man who was almost without fail kind and fair with Harry, and the man who was, for most of the seven-book series, sadistically abusive of Harry and his friends.


Even our favourite author, J.K. Rowling, entered the heated fray.

After what sounds to have been a long and surprisingly vitriolic debate, Rowling tweeted: "There's a whole essay in why Harry gave his son Snape's name, but the decision goes to the heart of who Harry was, post-war."

And further: "In honouring Snape, Harry hoped in his heart that he too would be forgiven. The deaths at the Battle of Hogwarts would haunt Harry forever."

And finally: "Snape is all grey. You can't make him a saint: he was vindictive & bullying. You can't make him a devil: he died to save the wizarding world."

Now, you can go back through my earlier posts on this blog and find snippets here and there that might help you understand my own interpretation, my "take" on this debate and on Rowling's approach to it (and I would encourage you to do so -- I've had a lot of fun writing all these posts and I hope you will be willing to invest some time in reading them) but allow me to summarise my thoughts on the subject here.

First, I agree in some ways with Rowling: Snape is an amalgam of good and evil. Shaped by his early personal experiences, he is a proud, angry, vindictive man. We know that his father was abusive and his parents fought all through his childhood. We know that he was bullied by James and Sirius and their gang and we know that, in the midst of all that, he fell very deeply and irrevocably in love with Lily Evans, one of the few major characters in the books who is presented as being without fault.

But I also think it is important that, while Snape turns out to be fighting on the side of good, he was also a brutal, nasty, horrible person in situations where such egregious behavior was not at all necessary. Nothing required him to bully Neville throughout his years at Hogwarts; nothing required Snape to pick on Ron and Hermione either.

Even if we buy the argument that Snape's terrible relationship with James Potter in some way explained and excused his behaviour toward Harry, I doubt very much it can possibly excuse just how awful he was to our boy hero. Not even the argument that Snape needed to convince and re-convince Voldemort that he was not an agent for Dumbledore could explain away just how unnecessarily cruel Snape was to Harry and his friends.

Further, even if we accept that Snape is a good guy, he did help bring about the deaths of two other of the good guys: Emmeline Vance and Sirius Black.

How does that fact impact the argument with regard to Snape? As I have written before, at its heart, this is a moral question. Is it morally acceptable to sacrifice at least two lives in hopes of avoiding the deaths of many many more? And, if we can forgive Snape the deaths of Vance and Black simply because Snape turns out to be willing to sacrifice himself to help defeat Voldemort, can we forgive him his earlier behaviour toward these children, when he was in the role of teacher, for the same reason?

I think our analysis of Snape has to take into account the evolving complexity of the books, the characters and their situations, from The Philosopher's Stone (which is a children's book) to The Deathly Hallows (which is a fully adult novel).

In the early books, Snape was basically a cardboard figure who represented evil. He was only and utterly Harry's nemesis. Whether or not Rowling had fully fleshed out, when she wrote the first three books, the complex and contradictory role Snape would eventually play in the later novels, Snape is presented early on as a flat, mysterious, horrible character.

More importantly, he was the key to one of the earliest examples of one of Rowling's favourite narrative strategies: misdirection. In The Philosopher's Stone, for example, Snape had to be presented as irredeemably evil in order to draw the reader's attention away from Quirrell, one of the two true villains of that story.

I would argue that, as the novels progressed and increased in depth and complexity, Rowling added more depth and complexity to her characters. She added shades of grey, to use that now horrible expression, to what had been black and white, flat, stock characters.


You see this most specifically with regard to Snape and Dumbledore, though Dumbledore's shades are mostly added only after his death in The Half-Blood Prince.


If I had to state things bluntly, I would say that the Snape of the first four books (especially books one and two) is not the same character as the Snape of the last three (especially the final one). To hold the actions of the early Snape against the later Snape is almost unfair.


In the end, this is not a question of Snape's personality or moral goodness; this is a question of Rowling's narrative strategy.

Adrenaline? or swimming lessons?

When did Harry learn to swim?

In the fabulous cave scene at the end of The Half-Blood Prince, Harry swims through treacherous sea waters, from the rock onto which he and Dumbledore had just apparated, across a narrow stretch of water and into a fissure that eventually leads to a set of steps onto a rocky shore in the middle of a cave.

Rowling says that Harry was weighed down by his waterlogged clothes as he swam, that he "struck out" to follow Dumbledore (who, quite charmingly, was doing "a perfect breaststroke" with his wand held between his teeth), that he "continued to swim" in the "icy" water with "benumbed fingers" before seeing Dumbledore "rising out of the water ahead" and then following him.

What with the dangerous, icy water, the weight of his clothes, and the fact that Dumbledore is able to get quite far ahead of him, this sounds like quite a challenging swim.

Even more impressive, on the way back, Harry must carry the weight of a weak, faint Head Master as he swims back from the cave to the rock before apparating back to Hogsmeade.

It's an excellent, exciting part of the novel and leads directly into the incredible climax involving Death Eaters in Hogwarts.

But when did Harry learn to swim?

In book four, The Goblet of Fire, Rowling writes the following passage to describe Harry's reaction upon deducing that the second task in the Tri-Wizard Tournament would involve swimming into the lake on the grounds of Hogwarts:

But [Harry] suddenly realized what he was saying, and he felt the excitement drain out of him as though someone had just pulled a plug in his stomach. He wasn't a very good swimmer; he'd never had much practice. Dudley had had lessons in their youth, but Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, no doubt hoping that Harry would drown one day, hadn't bothered to give him any. A couple of lengths of this bath was all very well, but that lake was very large, and very deep...

In two years, Harry has gone from someone whose stomach drops at the thought of being required to swim any distance to someone who can swim a fair distance through frigid, dangerous waters, carrying the weight of a fully-grown adult who is incapable of swimming on his own.

I guess you could argue that, when the need is that great, adrenaline would permit Harry to swim that distance, carrying Dumbledore... but it seems our beloved author missed something between these two stories, doesn't it?

The little details should have given Snape away

What was I thinking? How did I miss this? How did I fail to ask questions?

In the long passage in The Half-Blood Prince in which Dumbledore and Harry discuss the implications of the full Slughorn memory and the fact that Voldemort appears to be planning to make no fewer than six Horcruxes, the Head Master makes several comments that should, in my numerous earlier readings of the book, have made me stop and ask questions.

"When Voldemort discovered that the diary had been mutilated and robbed of all its powers, I am told that his anger was terrible to behold," Voldemort tells Harry at one point in the conversation.

Wait a minute, I should have said. Hold on there, Dumbledore. Who told you how Voldemort reacted to the news that Lucius Malfoy had permitted the diary to be destroyed? Who was there to "behold" Voldemort's terrible anger and then tell you about it?

But I didn't. I missed it. I failed to see the hint that J.K. Rowling laid down so subtly that, no matter what I saw and heard in Chapter Two, Severus Snape was actually still working for Dumbledore.

Who else could have given Dumbledore this tidbit of information from the inner sanctum of the Dark Lord? Who else could possibly have been there to behold the incident and then report it back to the Hogwarts Head Master?

Later in the same scene, Dumbledore drops another clue: "I understand that Voldemort had told him [Lucius Malfoy] the diary would cause the Chamber of Secrets to reopen, because it was cleverly enchanted."

'You understand from whom?' I should have asked. 'That's pretty specific knowledge of the details of what the Dark Lord said to one of this closest companions about one of his most important possessions. You couldn't become acquainted with that level of detail from a simple rumour, from third-hand reports.'

Remarkable. It's one of the most amazing things about Rowling as a writer of suspense: she has this uncanny knack of dropping little hints, tiny clues, minuscule details innocuously into seemingly much more important passages so that the reader does not pick up on them on first, second or third read, yet might some day (like today) realize just how important those hints, clues and details are to the story.

She makes her stories so exciting that it is impossible to slow yourself down and pay attention to the minute details yet she rewards such attention to detail with clear indications of what is really going on.

Dumbledore's a crack apparator

Dumbledore's Study at the Harry Potter Studio Tour

When Dumbledore apparates to Privet Drive in the first chapter of The Philosopher's Stone, he does so "so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground".

When Mundungus Fletcher apparates away from Privet Drive at the beginning of The Order of the Phoenix (leaving Harry unprotected in the face of the Dementors), his disapparition is marked by a "loud, echoing crack [that] broke the sleepy silence like a gunshot". Later, J.K. writes that "Harry was sure the cracking noise had been made by someone Apparating or Disapparating."

In fact, the loud noise becomes closely associated with the act of Apparition throughout the remainder of the books.

So how can Dumbledore do it silently?

I would guess that, as the long-time Hogwarts Headmaster is a wizard of exceptional skill and talent, he likely solved the problem on his own to allow himself to appear and disappear silently. This would be a definite advantage to him when dealing with an enemy.

What do you think?

Sharing the excitement of the Studio Tour

The Gates of Hogwarts

As I said in my last post, my 50th Birthday visit to the Harry Potter Studio Tour was made even more exciting and enjoyable by the fact that a birthday party of young people adopted me and allowed me to share in their excitement.

This is a photo of me at the Hogwarts Gates with several of these happy young people -- published with permission. Note the fabulous robes on two of them and the big smiles on the faces of all of us.

Every once in a while during the tour, I'd run into them again and they'd shout "hello" and wish me "Happy Birthday" and they would point with excitement at the nearest display and asked "Did you see...?"

They told me that they had all been on the tour at least once before. One of the girls said she already owns at least 12 wands (!!!!) so I was very happy when the Studio permitted us all a sneak preview of the Hogwarts Express display. At least the kids got the chance to see something new!

Pottermore posts not on my radar

So J.K. has put up some more "essays" on Pottermore, offering further information on various aspects of the Harry Potter world. I understand that one of them involves giving a history of Hogwarts and its headmasters, for example.

Note my use of "understand". I say "I understand" because, to be honest, I don't really know on account of the fact that I have not bothered to go read these new pieces of Potterana.

I'm not sure how I feel about them, to be honest.

I think my apathy is real and not driven by some nasty side of my personality, like jealousy, envy or spite. I think I really really don't care about these extra bits Ms. Rowling keeps throwing out into the world.

This is coming from someone who has read each volume in the Harry Potter series of novels at least 20 times. This is from someone who has already owned the eight movies both in DVD and Blu-Ray format and yet still will stop to watch them whenever they appear on regular TV. This is from someone who has become something of a resource in the lives of the Harry Potter fans among his friends and acquaintances.

In some ways, it makes me feel kind of sad that J.K. is still tossing bits of bread out onto the waters with regard to Harry Potter and hoping we will all snap them up.

I wonder why she can't either:

1. "let it go" and accept that her Harry Potter days are over and she should now focus on her really quite wonderful Galbraith novels; or
2. "suck it up", admit that she, like us, is addicted to Harry Potter and sit down to write another full length novel. I have no doubt that she could write some exciting books detailing Harry's adventures as an Auror, supplemented by plots involving Ron, Hermione and the others as they attempt to find their way in a post-Voldemort world.

The little tidbits she keeps offering seem pathetic, to be honest. Indecisive and sad.

And so I will choose not to read them anymore. And still treasure the seven spectacular Harry Potter novels I do read.

On paintings, portraits and plots

I've written before about the role played by paintings in the magical world of Harry Potter, particular the portraits of former Hogwarts headmasters that hang in Dumbledore's office (sorry, I can't bring myself to refer to it as Snape's office).

It is clearly established that people captured in paintings can communicate with the living people who  wander past them. This happens all the time. It is also clearly established that the characters in the paintings actually carry on linear lives, lives that are situated within the same chronological context as the living beings.

These painting people experience events at a particular moment in time, then move on to other events while carrying memories of the earlier event. The Fat Lady recounts several times, for example, how she was attacked in book two, and finally identifies her attacker as Sirius Black. In the final battle for Hogwarts, the painting people carry information from place to place in the castle.

And the portraits in the Headmaster's office, in particular, appear to carry the memories, the attitudes, the opinions of the living people they represent. They are an extension of the earlier headmasters and appear to add the experiences and memories they accumulate as painting people to the experiences and memories they held when they were living people.

Does that all make sense?

Okay. So why would Harry ever feel abandoned by Dumbledore in Book Seven? Why would his first goal not be to break into the Headmaster's Office and have a long talk with Dumbledore as a painting person, to obtain the answers to all the questions he has?

If the painting Dumbledore is an extension of the real, formerly living Dumbledore, why would Harry, Hermione and Ron not try to find a way to get to the portrait and find out how to destroy Horcruxes, where the remaining Horcruxes might be, what the deal is with the Hallows, etc.?

And why wouldn't Snape have found some way to help Harry and the gang gain access to Dumbledore's portrait without raising suspicion?

Again, I am concerned that, in creating these magical portraits in so much fascinating detail, J.K. Rowling has set a trap for herself that actually ends up undermining the effectiveness of these wonderful stories she's written. Wouldn't it have been possible to tell the stories without making these portraits so fully functional as to undermine the plots?

Deathly Hallows films make me cry, for all the wrong reasons

The film version of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows makes me want to cry.

No, not because I'm so upset about the death of Hedwig in the early going. Nor does the sweep of music that accompanies Dobby's last words bring tears to my eyes.

I'm not overwhelmed with emotion when I see the bodies of Fred, Remus and Nymphadora lying on makeshift cots in the Great Hall of Hogwarts in the intermission of the great battle.

And, no, I am absolutely NOT overcome with tears of relief when Voldemort's body finally breaks into little black leaves and floats off into the ether, signifying his final parting from this brave world.

No, I want to cry when I watch the movies of The Deathly Hallows because I HATE THEM SO MUCH. I want to cry because I am so angry at the scriptwriter and director and everyone else associated with the movies for taking our one real chance to translate J.K. Rowling's deep, moving psychological masterpiece of a seventh novel into film and WASTING IT with this ridiculous, corny, over-wrought, under-intellectual piece of revisionist S__T.

And I sincerely wish that J.K. Rowling would come out in public and make even the mildest statement that says she too recognizes how much of a disappointment these last two movies are.

I mean, under perhaps the greatest pressure of expectation any author has ever faced in literary history, Rowling wrote a lovely, fascinating, deep and philosophical novel, one that delivered more action than anyone could ever have hoped for supported by an amazing exploration of love, trust, friendship and camaraderie.

Despite its flaws, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows is, in my humble opinion, a literary masterpiece produced when the author could have hammered out a simple action yarn and most of the world would have been satisfied.

This novel is a credit to Rowling, proof that she is a master writer first and a business person second. She gave the world more, much much more than any one would have required her to give in this final novel for the simple reason that she felt she owed herself, her characters, and us, something fabulous.

So why did she permit the film-makers to turn her final masterwork into this shallow, often silly piece of dreck that leaves out just about every morsel of poetry she lovingly wrote into the book?

Why did she permit them to eviscerate the wonderful philosophical, moral Hallows-vs-Horcruxes story-line, leaving in just enough to make it a mockery of the original?

Why did she let them walk away from the intense internal conflict faced by Harry as he discovered more and more about Dumbledore and his intensely secret ways?

Why did she allow them to turn the Battle of Hogwarts into a mano-a-mano war between Harry and Voldemort when it is clear, in the book, that it is Harry's love for his friends and colleagues, and their love and support for him, that eventually wins the day?

There's so much more (or less) in the movies that I want to complain about but I think I've made my point.

J.K. Rowling's novel, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows is a beautifully paced, philosophically rich poetic piece of writing.

The two films that were made out of this book are simply sad reminders of what could have been, tragic wastes of the opportunity to make something as magic on film as the book is on paper.