If you enjoyed Secrets of Dumbledore, don't read this post

 The Secrets of Dumbledore introduces us to a long-ignored nephew/son, a new Grindelwald and a whole new magical world that is beyond our dreams and expectations.

The Secrets of Dumbledore does not introduce us to a tight plot, plausible characters or any kind of tension or even consistency with what has gone before.

I want to write that I watched SoD yesterday but I really didn't. After 30 minutes of focused attention, I found myself giving up any hope of finding a film deserving of that attention as the plot meandered, the characters blathered and the special effects took the front seat.

I started tidying up my den. I wandered into a nearby storage room to give it a much needed reorganisation. I talked to my sister on the phone.

This is a boring, lazy, silly film. Filled with scenes that go on much too long, even (long) scenes that aren't required at all. Filled with characters who some must find charming yet serve no real purpose: Jacob Kowalski? Seriously? Bunty Goodacre? Really? Even Newt Scamander is barely tolerable as a character.

I guess some Harry Potter fans are thrilled to see Minerva McGonagall as a young woman for a full 12 seconds. Or to hear familiar names like Rosier, Carrow, and Zabini attached to non-descript characters who appear and then disappear from the screen.

But really... SoD is a disaster.

Please, Jo, please. Stop. Respect the masterpiece you created in the seven Harry Potter books. Let them live on untainted by any more attempts to fill in the backstory, to cash in on the glory.

How many additional family members can you possibly discover? Now it's Aberforth who has an all-powerful child whom he has cast alone into the world.

How many more additional powers can you give to... well, every main character? Originally, wizards and witches, like all humans, were all relatively even in their powers and abilities. Albus Dumbledore, Voldemort, Bellatrix... perhaps a few others rose above the rabble. People with exceptional ability were recruited to be Aurors for the Ministry.

And even those people of exceptional ability, up to and including Albus and Voldemort, faced some limits to what they could accomplish magically.

In this new Fantastic Beasts version of pre-history, nothing is impossible. Nothing is even consistent. And it's maddening.

You worked very hard in the early books to establish what is possible and what is not, magically. To make clear the training required to accomplish even that limited set of possibilities, of how only truly extraordinary people like Albus Dumbledore and Tom Riddle were to be able to rise above and accomplish more. More, sure, but still within limits.

 And now you've just declared open season. There are no limits. And, as a result, there's no drama.

Albus is bound by a blood oath with Grindelwald until, suddenly, he isn't. Why? Apparently because Grindelwald tried to hurt a newly recognised Dumbledore nephew. But Grindy has hurt Credence before. With no apparent impact.

Grindelwald can bring animals back to life (I was waiting with bated breath for the word "Inferi" to be uttered). Dumbledore can create alternative realities in which he battles Credence. Fantastic Beasts can do fantastic things, even if we've never heard of them and their abilities just happen to suit the needs of the particular plot situation.

In the process, all tension, all suspense is undermined. If any major character can accomplish anything, then why should we worry about the outcome? Well, unless we are completely terrified that Newt will not be able to give his best-man speech at the wedding that is the subject of a ridiculous 20-minute epilogue to this already over-long film.

I could go on to talk about the over-the-top, smack you in the face allusions to American politics and the rise of authoritarianism but I think I need to go. Wash my hands. Cleanse SoD from my brain and move on with my life.

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.

Malfoy's murderous intent

Harry frees Dobby with a dirty sock

Lucius Malfoy attempts to murder Harry Potter at the end of the film version of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

In what could be considered a significant departure from the original novel, script writer Stephen Kloves chose to expose Malfoy's deepest evil much earlier than Rowling did.

The passage from the novel, which follows Harry's clever way of tricking Malfoy into freeing Dobby, reads as follows:

Lucius Malfoy stood frozen, staring at the elf. Then he lunged at Harry.

"You've lost me my servant, boy!"

But Dobby shouted, "You shall not harm Harry Potter!"

There was a loud bang, and Mr Malfoy was thrown backwards.

"Avada" shouts Lucius Malfoy, wand in motion

Malfoy lunges at Harry, perhaps in an attempt to beat him, or even throttle him, but there is no evidence in the book that Malfoy intended to use the Avada Kedavera nor to kill him at all.

In the film, on the other hand, Malfoy draws his wand and very clearly utters the word "Avada" before Dobby intervenes. Malfoy's intention is clear: to kill Harry. In front of a witness.

Why the change?

I think it is important to note that, when Rowling published the second novel in 1998, she had not yet invented (or at least had not yet introduced) the concept of the "Unforgivable Curses" and, if my memory serves, the killing curse (the Avada Kedavra) had not yet been uttered in the books. Rowling does not mention the specific curse in The Philosopher's Stone when the murder of Lily and James and Voldemort's failed attempt to kill Harry are discussed.

Rowling introduced the Unforgivable Curses by name and incantation in the fourth novel (2000), The Goblet of Fire, when Moody/Crouch Jr. showed them to the students.

So it is possible that it was Rowling's intention that we read that scene at the end of The Chamber of Secrets as involving Malfoy attempting to murder Harry before she had invented the killing curse. And, as a result, Kloves isn't really changing anything when he added the Avada Kedavara to the scene when he wrote the script for the second movie around 2007.

But I am not sure that's true. I am not sure Rowling's scene depicted a possible attempted murder -- killing someone with one's bare hands is an incredibly difficult, violent act, not one that belongs in a book written specifically for children and young adults. I think it is much more likely that Rowling either had no clear idea of what Malfoy's intentions were -- she knew she would have Dobby intervene so she didn't have to make that decision -- or she saw him as indulging in a fit of rage, with the intention of hurting Harry but not killing him.

If I am correct in this, we have to wonder why Kloves added the intent to murder into the film. By the time he was working on the script, the fourth book had already been published so that Unforgivable Curses had been introduced into the novels so the Avada Kedvara was available... but it's the intent that is important. In the film, Malfoy is willing to commit murder (or the Wizarding World's favourite son, no less) in front of a witness, within a stone's throw of Dumbledore's office.

And, to be frank, that makes no sense to me.

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.

Who wrote the Goblet of Fire?

Who wrote Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire?

Sounds like a silly question, doesn't it? Of course J.K. Rowling wrote Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Her name is right there on the cover, she has publicly claimed it and accepted credit for it.

But I am not sure that the J.K. Rowling who wrote the four Harry Potter book was the same person as the J.K. Rowling who wrote books one, two, three and five.

The Rowling who wrote most of the Potter books is a master story teller, a clear and technically perfect writer, a person who cares about the details as much as she cares about the grand themes of her work.

The Rowling who wrote The Goblet of Fire, on the other hand, seems to me at least to have been a different person: a person in a rush, under pressure to take advantage of the building success of her first three books and publish book four as soon as she could. 

The first three Harry Potter books were published in consecutive years -- 1997, 1998 and 1999 -- and each came in at between 200 and 300 pages. That's a remarkable creative pace but, considering the relatively brevity of the books and the simplicity of their plots, eminently reasonable. And these books are masterpieces, technically perfect in the details and creatively impressive in their overall achievement.

Goblet comes in at a whopping 636 pages but was still published only a year after The Prisoner of Azkaban. And, if you read it carefully, it is a sloppy sloppy book.

At a macro level, the plot is hyper-convoluted and nonsensical: once Voldemort manages to place Barty Crouch Jr. at Hogwarts with access to Harry, the entire Triwizard Tournament is rendered unnecessary. Crouch could simply port-key Harry to the graveyard on any one of the many occasions he had access to our young hero and, in the process, Crouch himself would not have had to be sacrificed.

Further, as I have pointed out elsewhere, there are significant problems with key points in this book, problems that should have been caught by Rowling in the writing:

1. Wormtail killed Cedric Diggory with his own wand and yet, when Harry's wand forces Voldemort's wand to regurgitate its most recent spells ("priori incantatem") in reverse order, Cedric emerges as if Voldemort's wand had killed him;

2. In the same "priori incantatem" scene, Harry's parents emerge from Voldemort's wand in the wrong order: it is made clear throughout the books that Voldemort murdered James Potter first, then was forced to murder Lily Potter in order to get to infant Harry, and so Lily should have emerged from Voldemort's wand first -- but James does; and

3. Rita Skeeter must have overheard the entire scene involving Harry, Dumbledore, Fudge, Snape, McGonagall, Sirius Black and the others in the Hospital Wing at the end of the book, including the confrontation between Fudge and Dumbledore -- once Hermione catches her at the very end of that scene, Skeeter could have been forced to write and publish the entire true story immediately so as to force Fudge to admit the truth. And render much of the plot of Book Five unnecessary.

Even so, it is in the details of the writing that the sloppiness becomes unhappily apparent.

I have chronicled in previous posts how skilled Rowling is at providing the reader background information from previous books in interesting ways while still moving the plot of the current book forward effectively. In Chapter 2 of the Goblet, however, she simply slaps it all into the story in long expository paragraphs. This continues in Chapter 3 and, despite a promising opening chapter, we are almost 40 pages in before the main plot even begins.

The book is also rife with the kind of small grammatical errors (for example, subject-verb disagreements, especially when she uses collective noun such as "group of students" but then uses the verb in its plural form "group of students were") that Rowling usually avoids, with run-on sentences (... and ... and ... and ... but) and with examples where she tells us something rather letting us discover it through action and dialogue.

For example, I opened the book at random and came up with this quote as an example of a run-on sentence:

'Lovely,' said Rita Skeeter, and in a second, her scarlet-taloned finger's had Harry's upper arm in a surprisingly strong grip, and she was steering him out of the room again and opening a nearby door.

 It is possible, of course, that the failure is on the part of Rowling's editors -- perhaps all of her draft manuscripts arrived at the publisher's office replete with errors and the editors whipped them into shape.

Whoever it was, the fourth Harry Potter book fails to live up to the exceptional quality of writing of the other six. And I think it's because Book Four was a significant rush job. Even though it is a mammoth tome, neither Rowling nor her publishers saw fit to take the time necessary to make sure it was of the same quality as her earlier novels in their rush to publish it for their adoring and lucrative public.

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.