In Which Harry Potter And The Half-Blood Prince Lacks The Granger-Potter Intercourse We Were Hoping For

Harry Potter and The New Victorians

by ELEANOR MORROW

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince is a short series of photoshoots assembled into an incoherent movie. If you didn't read the books, you wouldn't be crazy to ask what the hell is going on. I mean they basically ruined three of the central moments in the series here. I did not even cry when Dumbledore died.

Many have written themselves into a corner trying to hate on Harry Potter, most notably A.S. Byatt. As she put it:

Ms. Rowling's magic world has no place for the numinous. It is written for people whose imaginative lives are confined to TV cartoons, and the exaggerated (more exciting, not threatening) mirror-worlds of soaps, reality TV and celebrity gossip. Its values, and everything in it, are, as Gatsby said of his own world when the light had gone out of his dream, ''only personal.'' Nobody is trying to save or destroy anything beyond Harry Potter and his friends and family.

Whoa. All art serves a purpose. Whatever got 100 million people reading books can't be all bad. In translation, the films can't possibly represent the books, which are essentially an awkwardly written first effort from a juvenile-level author at best. Miss Rowling was in no position to write a great fantasy, but she gave it a shot, and it's easy to write this stuff. Stephanie Meyer owns NBC now, right?

Seriously though, the films were destined to be bad unless one person made them all Peter Jackson-style. They did a good job with the first one and the newness of it, and then the lighting design just started getting darker. Everyone's complexion became vampiric like Twilight. No one is having very much fun. It makes you wish they had all just rewatched Legend 5,000 times before shooting Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.

But hey, that's what Harry Potter is — it is so general, so easy, it can take on any cultural phenomenon and incorporate it within the flexibility of the narrative (if the lame, we must find seven parts of the villain's soul plot can be called a narrative). Harry and his friends are a projective lense through which we view the younger part of our population.

The news is not great, you guys. On the film or on the generation it purports to depict. The piece of art that accomplishes largely the same thing as Harry Potter is The Up Series, a British invention of documentary television that checked in on seven kids at ages 7, 14, 21, 28...every seven years and so on. The results were mind-boggling.

Neil turned out to be the most unpredictable of the entire group. At seven he was funny, full of life and hope. By the time of 21 Up he was homeless in London, having dropped out of Aberdeen University after one term, and was living in a squat and finding work as he could on building sites. During the interview he is clearly in an agitated state, and it becomes apparent that he has mental health issues and is struggling to cope with life; he mentions he had had thoughts of suicide. At 28 he was still homeless, although now in Scotland; by 35 he was living in a council house on the Shetland Islands, off the north coast of Scotland, writing and appearing in the local pantomime. By the time of 42 Up he had finally found some stability in his life (with some help from Bruce--he was living in Bruce's apartment in London and Bruce had become a source of emotional support) and was involved in local council politics.

Harry, Hermione and Ron are juniors in high school and yet they haven't ascended much further than heavy petting. The adults in their lives are impotent creatures — even the murderer who takes the Unbreakable Vow is kind of a weak shit in the end.

The biggest evidence we have of the most serious villain to haunt non-Muggles in history is a smoky shadow in the sky. This was Voldemort! He had unlimited power! His lieutenants murdered untold wizards. But hey, what could he do? These three were about:

Over time the series has resisted efforts to make it less British, and for an American child, Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince becomes a bizarre instruction of repressed sexual politics. The main crux of the matter is, all the pale faces have a very Victorian sexuality and have to observe customs or they're crying about another girl kissing their man, just kissing. How can an inner city girl who has worked two jobs by the age of 16 supposed to empathize with such an empty beacon of a woman?

A strange Muggle moment at a diner opens Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Harry gets hit on by an appealing black waitress who tells him that she gets off at eleven. It's obvious from her dress that she could have Harry screaming his dead parents names in ecstasy by the time she's done with him. Yet he happily retreats into his fake Victorian world — one that doesn't seem quite so magical anymore. I thought the point was that Hogwarts isn't identical to whatever Muggle High School Potter might have attended. I guess if Hermione can go to Clown College, Harry doesn't need more school.

On the whole, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince doesn't offer a terribly great image of English men and women, but it's an even worse portrayal of young people forging out in the world. Harry's bosom buddy Neville Longbottom has one scene in this movie, and he's serving Harry the lord a tray of hors d'oeuvres at a party for the more fameball Hogwarts students. And Harry thanks him.

The paring back of all the original and interesting material from the novel notwithstanding, what's left over is a bunch of teens who bear more resemblance to the cast of Gossip Girl than the fearsome force that created Dumbledore's Army in the previous novel. In addition, Rowling clumsily wrote all her best characters out of the script. Harry's uncle Sirius, played by Gary Oldman, formed a unique relationship with the orphan wizard. And then Sirius was killed off for no real reason, and Hagrid got turned in an impotent animal lover. For shame!

Shit, even House Slytherin looks like they're going to break into tears at any moment. Draco Malfoy shouldn't engender sympathy, you want to scream at David Yates, the film's clearly overmatched director. I'm not sure what's worse: that he thinks a giggling schoolgirl who likes Ron should get all the laughs, or that the only lines granted to people of color are apologies and invective?

A major element of the previous films, and somehow deleted in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, is the idea that what appears one way on the surface is something different indeed. I saw the film with a capacity crowd on 66th Street, and there was the occasional gasp at some new special effects feat — the way leaves moved on a tree, or the sight of dead tarantula as dusk fell on Hogwarts.

But mainly everything is exactly what it seems to be: Snape is the villain getting his task from his master, and the film ends when he carries it out. Dumbledore has Harry's best interest in mind, everyone gets with the person they're supposed to. The worst thing you can do is not make choices in a fantasy.

Since Rowling isn't much of a writer, the books follow a similar, easy template. There is some sort of mystery that these three Scooby Doo types must sort out.

In the films we are thankful for this progression; it keeps us guessing instead of watching a series of interrelated scenes that never quite add up to a whole. In The Half-Blood Prince, the point was supposed to be us finding out who the Half-Blood Prince is. But no one every really asks that question, no tries to solve it. It's the entire plot of the book and yet it has disappeared from the film! I'll grant you that it's not a very satisfying riddle, but at least it was a riddle.

So we're left with the personal issues of these three beanpoles.

Even stripped of the magic that made Harry a sensation, screenwriter Steve Kloves could have been forgiven had he not directly ignored and never sufficiently investigated the love between Hermione Granger and Harry Potter. "You're my best friend," she tells him as she leans up against him. They know each other too well. They don't know Ron: he's like a child that needs constant reassurance, and they both fail to connect with the other adults in their lives. Here they had something, and they threw it away.

Harry Potter was about being an outsider, an outcast. The first image of this film is flashbulbs popping off at the newly famous Potter. He's not an outsider anymore, he's a star, and it doesn't matter if Hermione Granger's parents were dentists — she's going to Brown now. Harry plans to drop out of school. He's mired in existential dread. "Voldemort killed my parents," he tells everyone in hearing range, as if they didn't remember. Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince features Harry losing yet another father figure. I'm afraid I cried all the tears I had for the last three.

Eleanor Morrow is the senior contributor to This Recording. She lives in Manhattan, and tumbls here.

"Autumn Beds" - Modest Mouse (mp3)

"Guilty Cocker Spaniels" - Modest Mouse (mp3)

"The Whale Song" - Modest Mouse (mp3)

In Which Wes Anderson Breaks Down His Perfect Mixtape For You Guys

the iTunes playlist: Wes Anderson

It is verifiably true that white people love Wes Anderson movies, they also love Wes Anderson. This midgety little auteur has come a long way since his magnificent debut feature, Bottle Rocket. Here is a brief guide to the cinema of Wes Anderson before we hand it over to him to discuss his musical taste.

Bottle Rocket, 1996: genius-level debut, cinematography and plot aren't all there, Luke Wilson's Orientalism plot a little racist, but Owen makes himself a supastar and that's all you can really ask for, B+

Rushmore, 1999: critics initially balked at its overlong third act, no movie has ever been more in love with itself, Schwartzman deserved best actor, like most Anderson movies it grows on you like a fungus, there will never be another, A+

The Royal Tenenbaums, 2001: so bizarre and sprawling it's hard to digest, has the spirit of six different movies, another botched third act, and yet there's so much to love, from buckley to danny glover's performance, to owen wilson's arc, to luke wilson's suicide attempt, a classic, A

The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, 2004: love letter to Jacques Cousteau, Murray is again terrific, long-lost son plot is a half-baked, pregnant Cate turns us on, total male perspective a la Darjeeling, best plot consistency, best set design, there's too much to savor here, watch it again and see what I mean, A-

The Darjeeling Limited, 2007: Smaller canvas, Adrien Brody is terrible, Schwartzman adds nothing, you can't even watch Owen, setting and Orientalism are off-putting, great Angelica performance in cameo, meandering at times, worst script so far, an entertaining enough misstep, don't watch Hotel Chevalier if you value your life, C+

from here:

O: Do you ever hear a song and think, “I have to have that in a movie?”

WA: Yeah, I do all the time.

O: What’s an example of that, a case where a song actually made it in?

WA: Every single song that’s in Rushmore.

"The Longest Time" - Billy Joel (mp3)

My brothers and I would perform this song in the family living room to great effect. Thankfully, there were no cameras running.

"When I Live My Dream" - David Bowie (mp3)

In its original version.

life aquatic script

What finally sparked the making of this movie after 14 years of it staying in your head?

I wrote a little short story when I was in college. It wasn't even a short story, it was like one paragraph that was just a description of this one character and Anjelica's character and the ship, The Belafonte, and just the setting. So, I had that but I didn't mean for it to be a movie. I was just trying to write a story and it never really got any further. It was actually Owen Wilson who kept bringing it up from time-to-time over the years and kept reminding me about it and got me into thinking about it some more. I remember one day on The Royal Tenenbaums seeing Anjelica and Bill Murray on the set together. All they had together was about 30 seconds but I felt there was a great rapport between the two of them that would be worth exploring.

"Summer Day" - Coconut Records ft. Zooey Deschanel (mp3)

Classic Coconut Records. A beautiful duet.

"The First Cut Is The Deepest" - Buva (mp3)

We were very lucky to be able to use two great Cat Stevens songs in Rushmore. Here is a particular favorite of Randy Poster's (music supervisor on The Darjeeling Limited) from early in Stevens' career.

"Dishes" - Pulp (mp3)

Jarvis Cocker is in my mind one of the most original voices and creative thinkers in these parts. He is not Jesus, but he has the same initials.

"Tive Razao" - Seu Jorge

Until Seu Jorge releases his next record, we have to be happy with what we can find on iTunes. This is one of his best.

"Gates of Steel (live Devo cover)" - Yo La Tengo (mp3)

Mark Mothersbaugh has created all the original music for my movies. This is one of my favorite Devo songs.

"Alec Eiffel" - The Pixies (mp3)

I believe this song is about an architect.

"The Well and the Lighthouse" - Arcade Fire (mp3)

I have jumped on the bandwagon.

"Rally" - Phoenix

While I have a known affinity for the music of the British Invasion, Phoenix makes a very strong argument for the oncoming French one.

"Yeah!" - Horace Silver

There is a cue in Bottle Rocket that Mark Mothersbaugh wrote called 'No Jazz' (this was an edict from the studio). Horace Silver argues for the other side.

"Sweet Thing" - Van Morrison

From one of the most enduring albums of recorded music, this song always overwhelms me. How many times I played it when I should have been doing my homework...

"Ceremony" - New Order (mp3)

We almost used this in The Life Aquatic, and sometimes when the wind is full I wish we did.

Anderson's next film is The Fantastic Mr. Fox.

You can find Ellen Page's iTunes playlist here.

In Which Batman and Superman Die More Impressively Than Usual

Death of an Idea

by MARCO SPARKS

He speaks in your voice, American, and there’s a shine in his eye that’s halfway hopeful.

—Don Delillo, Underworld

One of our favorite sons of the comic book world, Captain America, is dead, betrayed by the woman he loves after surrendering to the forces of governmental control he fought against in a civil war of super heroes just to promote peace in a country that needs their figurehead to show them stability and the courage to go on.

That's one of the nerdiest sentences ever birthed into the world, but even the mainstream media got involved in reporting how Captain America died on the steps of some fine institution of American Justice.

This is huge news for both the geeks and cultural theorists who share an interest in the sequential art medium, which dates back to Greek friezes, Roman columns advertising the nearest orgy, Egyptian hieroglyphs, and even the cave art of the earliest humans. Present in the beginnings of storytelling and the creation of lasting myths, comics are still such an important part of our continuing American mythemes.

But the point remains, Captain America is dead, replaced in the role by his former sidekick, a nastier, deadlier incarnation. A man for our times? Perhaps so we were lead to believe, though Steve Rogers, the original Captain America is already slowly making his return, Billy Pilgrim-style.

Meanwhile, over at Marvel's Distinguished Competition, we still have what is arguably America's other best known comic book son: Superman.

Superman's constantly updated but never fully changed origin has all the things we Americans want out of our modern day myths: alien apocalypses, rocketships, messianic infants with Christ-like or at least Moses-like potential, orphans, childless farmer couples, and someone of a tiny stature who can lift a car over their head to the shock and awe of others.

The Man Of Steel is probably the most quintessentially American hero, the immigrant who comes to our shores and not only achieves the American dream, but embodies it. And yet, he's such a cookie cutter boy scout, a 'my way or the highway' douchebag. Is it really possible that all his stories haven't been told yet? And as far as his villains are concerned, how many different colors can there be in the Kryptonite spectrum?

Millionaire playboy Bruce Wayne, despite having a fortune handed to him by the death of his parents (and what is more American than that?), is the ultimate self made man. I would say that any version of Batman, except the ridiculous Adam West one, is a mythic figure we need in this time or any other.

A guy dressed in black leather, a cape, and pointy ears, running over the rooftops of our American Gotham and doling out fear and punishment to the criminals that are unlucky enough to be found by him? That's awesome. But most importantly, the caped crusader is a man who's crafted his fully human body into a weapon, with his brain perhaps being the biggest muscle he can flex. That's the kind of super hero I want my kids going crazy over when it comes to merchandising.

There's just one catch, though. The Dark Knight, though in the middle of a successful movie relaunch (and you have to love that while no American or anyone born outside the British Isles will ever play James Bond or Doctor Who or any of Albion's other favorite creatures, we yanks have no problem absorbing a chameleon-like Welshman into the fold to play one of our modern pop culture Gods), is dead.

He sacrificed himself to save nothing so small as the entire multiverse itself from a threat so serious and so campy that it actually calls itself Darkseid (even when it still wears that old wonderful Jack Kirby super villain kilts and thigh high boots).

It happened recently in Final Crisis, third in a trilogy of universe and continuity smashing event miniseries (though usually used as fix it measures by DC comics to fix where stories have gone wrong), written by Grant Morrison, who may be just as insane as he is both brilliant and Scottish, and with art by J.G. Jones, Carlos Pacheco, and Doug Mahnke. The idea is not a totally shocking one since DC did kill off Superman in the 90s and even broke Batman's back around the same time, forcing him to be replaced in the role, and just like those ventures, Bruce Wayne will eventually be back in the role (once he, in a story too long to share here, defeats the timestream to return to the present, Lost-style).

But for now the myth gets a facelift, and is reborn as something relevant and viable to our day and age. Batman's original sidekick, child trapeze artist Dick Grayson, who was the little bird in "Batman and Robin" before becoming his own hero called Nightwing, will inhabit the cowl and black leather. And the illegitimate son of Wayne, a snot nosed and possibly murderous kid wonderfully named Damian, will become the new Robin. Even in the world of super heroes, nepotism is king. This Recording's own Dick Cheney can tell you better than anyone: it's either about who you know, who you're related to, or who you're fucking.

The super spandex American dream is taking a breather and we're living in the age of replacement heroes. The morality playbook of the old comics creators who created American myth on the cavewalls by firelight has changed, no longer focusing on the trendsetters and trailblazers, but on those pick up the torch in their steed, the analogues trying to keep the world safe until the originals return. But the message is still hopeful...

No matter how dark it may get, as they say, the fire does not go out.

Marco Sparks is a contributor to This Recording. He blogs here, and tumbls here.

"Vaccine" - Mew (mp3)

"Hawaii" - Mew (mp3)

"Tricks" - Mew (mp3)