The Pirate Review - Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

I'm just wild about Harry

Minor spoilers

There's something noble and magical about birds of prey. The ancients considered them symbols of strength and wisdom, bearers of portentous omens, signs of things to come. Hollywood, too, seems intrigued by them—it's interesting to see how often such creatures make an appearance in fantasy films. Consider the graceful daylight form of the title character in Ladyhawke, and the majestic white owl—yes, computer animated, but who cares?—in the often-overlooked fantasy classic Labyrinth. So it was with a sense of quiet joy that I realized Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone begins with—what else—the image of an owl, perched placidly on a road sign marked "Privet Drive." It seemed like an auspicious beginning.

Owls must be fairly accurate augurs, then, because I can say without any hesitation that I loved Harry Potter. Yes, of course I'm biased in favor of this movie. Like thousands of other fans of the J.K. Rowling series, I've read the stories over and over; unlike many of them, I actually have two sets of books—one American, one British. But if you're still reading and grinning at this point, you're probably as biased as I am. Away with this pretense of objectivity; the real question is, does it work as a movie?

Yes. Oh my, yes.

Director Chris Columbus and crew have to be given full marks for a fantastic visual recreation of the distinctive locations of the book. It's all here—the prim British tract housing of Privet Drive, the Dickensian repleteness of Diagon Alley, the hidden wonder of Platform 9 3/4 and the gleaming crimson engine of the Hogwarts Express, and the marvelous Gothic pile that is Hogwarts, including the splendor of great flaming braziers, floating taper candles and the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall.

The cinematography, too, has some delicious moments: the subtle way the signboard of the Leaky Cauldron resolves into readability, the magical brickwork forming an archway into Diagon Alley, the moment of joyous realization when Harry breaks through into Platform 9 3/4 or when he brandishes the Golden Snitch in triumph. (To be fair, it also has a few questionable moments, such as the oddly gritty, almost pixelated background of the opening scene, and the actual quest to reach the Sorcerer's Stone is reminiscent—in a bad way—of the '80s laser disc video game Dragon's Lair.) For the most part, though, the details—caroling ghosts, moving paintings in the background—give utter credence to Rowling's wizarding world. John Williams' score becomes inexplicably intrusive in some scenes—such as when Hagrid first picks up the mysterious parcel at Gringott's—but otherwise provides notable audio punctuation to buoy up the visuals.

But although this visual and auditory candy, the Britain of literary fantasy, draws one into the film, it's the performances of the actors that keep one fully engaged. And for this, Susie Figgis should be awarded 100 House points for superlative casting. Richard Griffiths and Fiona Shaw are perfect as the priggish Dursleys. Robbie Coltrane makes an initially alarming yet thoroughly lovable Hagrid. John Hurt as the wand-seller Mr. Ollivander brings something quite wonderful to a relatively small, yet important role, reminding us as it does that there is a potential darkness underlying Harry's magic. Much has been said about the performances of Maggie Smith and Alan Rickman, but I enjoyed just as thoroughly Zoë Wanamaker as broomstick instructor Madame Hooch, with catlike yellow eyes and a voice and demeanor of absolute authority. David Bradley brought a surprising sense of humor to the role of the wicked Filch. I've wanted to see more of Warwick Davis ever since his starring role in Willow, and although his Professor Flitwick gets short shrift and heavy makeup, Davis makes the most of it. Surprisingly less effective to me was the performance of Richard Harris; although visually quite perfect as Dumbledore, he seems to lack a certain spryness that the headmaster of Hogwarts possessed in the book.

The young actors truly shine in their roles. Sean Biggerstaff, as Quidditch captain Oliver Wood, has a warm Scottish accent and a cocksure attitude that instantly endeared him to me. Emma Watson's Hermione begins as such a prissy know-it-all that you want to box her ears, but becomes notably more charming as the film progresses. Rupert Grint has an expressive face and excellent sense of comic timing for such a young actor, and his portrayal of Ron Weasley should have Potter-mad kids exclaiming "Wicked!" for weeks to come.

Then, of course, there is Daniel Radcliffe, tackling the most difficult role in the film and doing it with notable panache. His Harry is sweet, intelligent, frequently just as amazed as the audience, with a soul that is equal parts gold and steel. Radcliffe's voice, which actually broke near the end of filming, takes on a sweetly husky quality in many of the latter scenes; this works surprisingly well, underscoring the seriousness of the action. There are a few off moments when his performance comes across as bland, but there are far more moments where his infectious smile lights the screen. Chris Columbus might make us want to go to Hogwarts; Daniel Radcliffe's Harry actually takes us there.

There is no such thing as a perfect movie. No film manages to please every member of its audience; no director completely succeeds in making visions come to life. But Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone achieves so much of what the director intended: to take a magical book and interpret it into a feature film. For this alone, it is well worth your time and ticket money. And as far as the entertainment value? Well, for what it's worth, I managed to sneak a candy bar into the theater, intending to eat it during the movie. It was still completely untouched by the time the credits rolled—I'd been too deeply immersed in the wizarding world to remember it was there.

How's that for a portent?