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dweemeister · 7 years

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Movie Odyssey Retrospective

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (2001)

This June, it will have been twenty years since J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (titled Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone for all markets outside the United States) was published in the United Kingdom. More than fifteen years have passed since the film adaptation was released worldwide, enshrining Pottermania in popular cultural history. For your reviewer, the appeal of the story behind Harry Potter broke through a period where my reading comprehension levels were about a grade behind most of my peers. I could recall and understand the implications of certain narrative passages in Harry Potter more easily than almost all other books I read. Whatever the reason for that, it might have something to do with the basics of what Rowling set to print: the world Harry, Hermione, and Ron lived in was transfixing; their adventures transporting.

What follows is a retrospective review on a film that I must have seen somewhere around ten times now, if not more. From one of my fondest earliest memories of seeing the film on a chilly Southern Californian evening (I was a sensitive eight-year-old, as the climax freaked me out) to rewatches from a DVD encased in its battered box to the latest rewatch last week, it is a childhood favorite. But this is a write-up on why Sorcerer’s Stone – the film – succeeds the way it does (a warning: I am of the unpopular opinion that the earlier films work better as films than the successive entries). This is not a review on how faithful it is to the text.

The plot should be at least vaguely familiar to most, but for those who haven’t read the books or seen the movies, read this paragraph. Eleven-year-old Harry Potter (Daniel Radcliffe) is raised by his Muggle (a person without magical abilities) relatives aunt Petunia (Fiona Shaw) and uncle Vernon Dursley (Richard Griffiths), sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs. After a blizzard of owl-delivered letters and Dursley evasiveness, Harry learns that he’s a wizard from half-giant Rubeus Hagrid (Robbie Coltrane), and decides to accept an invitation to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry – that’s what all those owls were for. Hagrid in a way becomes a surrogate father, as he helps prepare Harry for the upcoming school year and tells him that his parents were murdered by a dark wizard named Voldemort. But for whatever reason, Voldemort’s killing curse rebounded when used against Harry – killing Voldemort, and leaving Harry with his lightning-bolt forehead scar. It's blasphemous to have a character in British children’s literature to have both parents alive, you know. While traveling to Hogwarts, Harry will meet his eventual friends Ron Weasley (Rupert Grint) and Hermione Granger (Emma Watson) – they will be sorted in the same “house”. They attend classes, come to care for each other and, of course, there’s some matter of the Sorcerer’s Stone to attend to.

An enormous cast of characters are played exclusively by British and Irish actors, per Rowling’s request to Warner Bros.: Headmaster Albus Dumbledore (Richard Harris), Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall (Maggie Smith), Potions Professor Severus Snape (Alan Rickman), Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Quirinus Quirrell (Ian Hart), Harry’s rival, Draco Malfoy (Tom Felton), and numerous others. Non-Hogwarts characters include John Hurt as the wandmaker Mr. Ollivander and Julie Walters as Ron’s mother, Molly Weasley.

Director Chris Columbus, in 2001, was best known for his work in children’s films and movies where children figure significantly. Having directed the first two Home Alone films and Mrs. Doubtfire (1985) as well as writing The Goonies (1985), Columbus was Warner Bros.’ pick for directing, rather than Rowling’s preference of Terry Gilliam (1985′s Brazil). What Columbus accomplishes is being faithful to Rowling’s book as well as making Harry Potter accessible to general audiences unfamiliar with the story – I have difficulty believing that Gilliam would have succeeded in the latter. It’s a daunting task, having to helm the most anticipated literary film adaptation since probably Gone with the Wind (1939). But Columbus has one thing in his directorial arsenal subsequent Harry Potter directors lacked. Though he is certainly the most conservative of the Harry Potter directors (also including Alfonso Cuarón, Mike Newell, and David Yates), Columbus introduces a wonderment, a starry-eyed, open-mouthed passion and enchantment never again replicated by his successors. It is filmmaking direct from Spielbergian tradition.

With no other Harry Potter films serving as a template, Columbus – who has sometimes been characterized, rightly or wrongly, as a studio yes-man – and screenwriter Steve Kloves were deferential to Rowling in several aspects of production (including aesthetic, character appearances, universe canon, and even approving the non-use of green contacts when Daniel Radcliffe’s eyes were too irritated by them). For lack of a better word, it is a workmanlike directorial and screenwriting effort for Columbus and Kloves. Having to introduce the extensive dramatis personae and cinematically set up the universe, this necessitates exposition – which Sorcerer’s Stone has more than subsequent Harry Potter films. If Sorcerer’s Stone ever feels too episodic and set-piece heavy, that’s the way Rowling organized her book in order to establish setting and characters. It results in a clunkier, less fluid film adaptation, additionally depriving Harry with moments that express his relief and liberation from his Muggle relatives.

But where the lackluster direction and writing taketh away, the performances, the atmosphere, and the music giveth.

Columbus, noting his directing and producing credits, also knows how to work with children. This is an underrated quality among mainstream Hollywood film directors, and this attribute pays dividends in the Sorcerer’s Stone – setting precedents for future directors to follow in the later Harry Potter films. This brings us to Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson, and Rupert Grint. Only Radcliffe had any professional experience as his two co-stars had only acted in school plays. Much has been written about the Britain-wide search for the parts of Harry, Hermione, and Ron. Yet to have one budding professional and two non-professional actors in a high-intensity film production environment get together and bounce off each other’s performances so effortlessly is miraculous. You feel that inspiration from the three leads; you feel that uplift as these three friends are admiring whatever new magic is put in front of their faces; you feel their terror when confronted with the malevolent. The kids are being allowed to play kids – even Watson’s precocious and bookish Hermione has her moments of vulnerability and spectacular misjudgment. How exact each actor’s comedic timing is (and the provided example is not even the best example)! And how fortunate that this franchise landed these three the way they did, that production on the seven sequels progressed at a rate before they became too old to play children.

The supporting cast, too, is blessed with some of Britain’s finest actors shouting nonsensical terms that pass for spells. For the first film, they are led by Robbie Coltrane’s Hagrid. Coltrane, the first cast member announced for the film, must set the tone as he is Harry’s introduction into the wizarding world. One could not ask for a better performance from the Scot, exuding compassion and an intolerance for injustice. Richard Harris plays a Dumbledore that will not be a richly textured until much later in the series but is more comforting than Michael Gambon’s Dumbledore ever could be; Maggie Smith is taking cues from her performance as Miss Jean Brodie for younger generations to define McGonagall. Alan Rickman plays Snape with hamminess and theatrical gestures to go alongside his unsettling, sneering tones. John Hurt is exceptional in a brief scene as Ollivander; Ian Hart is underwhelming as Quirrell. For many of these important supporting characters from Hogwarts, they are only beginning to be molded into the layered individuals readers would eventually know them to be. Even for a 152-minute film, expecting full characterizations is asking too much.

While using the backdrops of Alnwick Castle and Gloucester Cathedral for interior shots and using an enormous, detailed model for exteriors, the task of enlivening Hogwarts falls to production designer Stuart Craig and costume designer Judianna Makovsky. Craig, influenced by the architecture of English cathedrals, also invested in York Stone in the enormous set for Hogwarts’ Great Hall. The stone, prohibitively expensive and initially questioned by executives, proved to be a shrewd purchase – the stone endured the footsteps of thousands of cast and crew from Sorcerer’s Stone until it was dismantled following The Deathly Hallows – Part 2. Craig also implemented clashing architectural styles for Diagon Alley, contributing to the bustling atmosphere that, for some, is the film’s first “wow” moment. Meanwhile, Makovsky’s wizard’s robes defined later incarnations of wardrobes in the series, also lending Harry Potter a timelessness in its ambiguous timeframe (that wasn’t established until sometime after). Makovsky and Craig rely on warm colors to fashion a storybook feel to the production that would disappear after Chamber of Secrets. If one hasn’t noticed by now, precedent-setting is a recurring theme.

Perhaps one element of Harry Potter productions that strayed from original precedents was the scoring. For the first three films, John Williams lent his musical expertise for themes that would largely be discarded by the series’ conclusion. As a result, Williams’ score – dismissed as “overscoring” by handfuls of film critics upon the film’s initial release (and also overshadowed by Howard Shore’s composition for The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring that same year) – has been evaluated more positively as time has passed. Indeed, the most satisfying incarnations of Harry Potter’s themes are contained in The Sorcerer’s Stone. In 2001, while at his summer home in Tanglewood and with two-thirds of the score completed, Williams previewed “Hedwig’s Theme” to a live audience – the critical and popular reception was tremendous, prompting Williams to increase the theme’s presence in the film. “Hedwig’s Theme” features perhaps the most famous celesta (a music box with piano keys) line in film music as well as soaring, texturally rich strings (the rapid ascending-descending lines are a string player’s nightmare, but provide a harmonic depth that, nowadays, only Williams can conjure up for film).

Influences from Hook (1991) and the Home Alone series can be heard (see: ”Christmas at Hogwarts”), but the themes are entirely original. The aforementioned “Hedwig’s Theme” is used as a film-driven motif for magic in general, and is also integrated into “Harry’s Wondrous World.” “Harry’s Wondrous World” is a marvel of composition, interweaving Harry’s evolving leitmotif from receiving his first Hogwarts letter, his loneliness with the Dursleys, his first steps into the wizarding world, his first evening at Hogwarts, his first Quidditch match, and even his departure from Hogwarts at the end of his first year. Every section in the orchestra has its moment of glory – even among sections that are not to Williams’ strengths in lower strings and higher woodwinds. Voldemort’s motif remains in the background until the second half of the film, making its first notable appearance in “The Mirror of Erised” (a cue that counterbalances the rousing pieces in Williams’ score) and subsequently imprinting itself as a major leitmotif during the Forbidden Forest scene. But Voldemort’s motif actually appears first in “Hedwig’s Theme”. Beginning at 2:00 at ending at 2:30 in “Hedwig’s Theme”, listen closely. Ignore the celesta and ignore the high-flying strings in those thirty seconds. There is one instrument – which sounds like a French horn, but I’m not certain – playing Voldemort’s motif pianissimo under the melody (the instrument changes notes three times from 2:09-2:11). Minor musical details like that complete an intricate score by Williams. It is his one of his greatest achievements, with its placement throughout the film empowering a pragmatic film to near-musical perfection. Like the acting, the costume design, and the production design Williams’ music is the structural cornerstone in which the fourth to eighth films attempted, but failed, to produce.

Despite the film’s rushed special effects which falter during the flying and Quidditch scenes – the greenscreen effects, even for audiences in 2001, were too obvious – and simply functional direction, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone is a film that is greater than the sum of its parts (too many retrospective reviews emphasize how poorly the visual effects have aged; I agree in part, but that is reductive film criticism). The acting can be inconsistent, awkward; the pacing and screenplays would be a problem for all eight films. But when tasked to deliver jaw-dropping awe and magic unlike any that had ever depicted in film, Sorcerer’s Stone is a resounding triumph.

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone contains one of my favorite scenic juxtapositions in all of film. Harry, who is spending his second night gazing at the Mirror of Erised – a mirror that, “shows... nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desires,” of a person’s heart – has an unexpected conversation with Dumbledore about the mirror. Users have wasted themselves in front of the mirror, Dumbledore says, some even driven to insanity. A person’s most fundamental desires require exceptional effort to achieve or, as in Harry’s case, impossible to realize. Chasing apparitions will only lead to suffering; entertaining dreams without action is futile. These are lessons that I would not expect any child to understand – the appeal for adults is self-evident. Though the Mirror of Erised does not appear in future installments of the series, Harry periodically will mention how he wishes things might have been different. Given time, Dumbledore’s wise words on that late December night will define how Harry conducts himself. For Harry and, I suspect, almost everybody, such lessons will take a lifetime to learn – few will ever learn them fully.

There is a cut after Dumbledore has advised Harry not to seek the Mirror of Erised again. We see Harry, donning Winter robes and a Gryffindor scarf, trotting in the snow. He is alone with his owl, Hedwig. John Williams’ score emerges from a meandering minor key to an oboe rising to play the main idea from “Harry’s Wondrous World.” Hedwig is allowed to stretch her wings and fly, as the film transitions from Winter to Spring, from an old year to a new year. In less than three minutes, Sorcerer’s Stone has touched upon impermanence and renewal with melancholy, gentleness.

It is moments like these that separate this, the first of the Harry Potter films, with the later entries as well as contemporary major studio productions. For easing audiences into a universe that has provided reassurance and wisdom, the film adaptation of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone is an imperfect modern classic that will be cherished for decades to come.

Whether popular culture will see any phenomena such as Harry Potter again remains to be seen. The franchise’s legacy continued with the release of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (2016) – boasting serviceable art direction and costume design, but hampered by Rowling’s (who wrote the screenplay) canonical inclusions and inclinations for longform storytelling applied to cinema. Four sequels to Fantastic Beasts are being planned, but I doubt that they will ever match Sorcerer’s Stone for pure, childlike astonishment. No other Harry Potter film ever has.

My rating: 8/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating.

This is the ninth Movie Odyssey Retrospective. Movie Odyssey Retrospectives are write-ups on films I had seen in their entirety before this blog’s creation or films I failed to give a full-length write-up to following the blog’s creation. Previous Retrospectives include Dumbo (1941), The Sound of Music (1965), and The Wizard of Oz (1939)

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