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Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2, Subsection 5, p III, Chapter 28, Act iv.

Written by Nathalie Magri


*Contains mild spoilers if you havent read the book* Here is a brief review of the movie that I saw last night, and the reason why my bitterness for humanity has eeked up a little. Like all written opinions, everyone will jump down my throat and call me Hitler. But keep in mind that I AM WRITING THIS ONLINE, WHICH MAKES ME A GOD. Imagine a thin, reedy Liverpudlian accent telling you that Im bigger than Jesus. And so, with the latest and final movie installation, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows part 2, comes the close to an era that we twenty-somethings grew up with. People dressed up like wizards for book openings so that spoilers could be screamed at them from passing cars. Quidditch became an outdoors sport, encouraged so that those people could get out of their basements and cat-shrines. I only read the first five books, leaving off at Order of the Phoenix, in which Harry discovers his menstrual cycle for 800 pages. Ive seen all of the movies, however, but keep in mind that my judgment of Deathly Hallows is based only on the movie, not the book (which I hear was crap anyway, in the sense that author Just Kidding Rowling lost her whimsical train of thought and killed 400 commuters in the process). We pick right up where we left off with the last movie, which came out last December, and already Im confused. Im trying to decide which dwarf Wharwick Davies has been court-ordered to appear as. We get some cool establishing shots of Hogwarts Castles grounds, surrounded by dementors, which looks great if you ponied up the $35 to see it in 3-D. Alan Rickman reprises his role as Trent Reznor, and a Pink Floyd music video is taking place below in the castle. Rons hair is worse than ever, Harry still hasnt bathed, and Hermione is cute as a button in her little denim jacket and knit gloves. Lets fast forward to the action, which may have been the best advice for the editor of Deathly Hallows part 1. For those of us who have been struggling to come to terms with our attraction to Emma Watson, the movie offers a nice, unhindered cleavage shot early in. Helena Bonham Carter plays herself, with husband/agent Tim Burton as the dragon. J.K. Rowling, who had apparently been watching Raiders of the Lost Ark while penning some action scenes for her book, gives us some gratuitous goblin-charring and doublecrossing betrayal which went over my head because I was still trying to figure out which one was Warwick Davies. Luckily, Harry escapes out the door and still manages to grab his fedora. The visuals in this movie are praise-worthy, the 3-D was actually present in the movie, and the set designs and antique thingamabob props were creative. That said, I dont

understand why the hell Lord of the Rings was in this movie. Set in present-day England, giant trolls with John Goodmans face wreaked havoc on the fighting suits of armor from Bedknobs and Broomsticks, all taking place on the grounds of Hogwarts-Tirith. Ron donned a pair of green tights and scaled a mumakil, shooting it in the head with an arrow to fell it and then surfing down the stairs on an Uruk-hais shield. But this movie isnt just for insufferable cat-lovers, we have to give emo kids something to watch while knitting their Slytherin scarves. Since Draco Malfoy and his seven pounds of pomade are now basically out of the picture, we get Snape, whose fierce death is pansified into Harry collecting his tears in a bottle so that he can rig up an Evanescence music video in Dumbledores penseive (see what she did there? Oh, J.K, you rogue! You veritable linguist, you!) Here we find out that Snape was actually Edward Scissorhands (alternately, a Culkin kid) when he was younger, and has been stalkerishly crushing on Harrys mom all these years, even while his face was CG. They even have matching patronuses and stuff. And Harrys okay with that because he has his mothers eyes, something which has been creepily said at him roughly a thousand times before. And speaking of roughly a thousand times before, how about those pep-talks from ghosts scenes, huh? Or ethereally speaking in riddles, or learning about the strength within your friends and your own heart, right? They were packing in the Care Bear crap with an ice cream scoop of fuzzy goodness and unicorn farts. There was also a charming homage to the Scott Pilgrim 1-up death scene, this time including Dumbledore, who was clearly lost and had forgotten his meds. And, what would have been an impressive moment between Voldemort and Harry is reduced to a mental snigger when Voldemort utters a sound from his creepy noseless face (modeled after the late Anna Nicole Smith) similar to Lion-Os call to the Thundercats (if you are unfamiliar with this, it goes, OOOOOOOOOOOOO! Or, in Voldemorts case, OOOOOOOOVADA KEDAVRA! Or, in Steve Miller Bands case, Abra, Abracadabra. Or, in Pokemons case, Abra, who evolves into Kadabra after level 16). At this point, J.K. had run out of things to steal from, so she reverts to her usual method: Harrys friends and teachers save the day! Yes, thats right, after hours/pages of Harry crying into his pillow, getting migraines, and running around looking for stuff, someone else saves his ass! Truly a remarkable wizard, who is deserving of what Im sure will become a catchphrase hit, Lightning has struck! I repeat, lightning has struck! Now, it wasnt enough punishment that we had to see Ron with his shirt off (again). No, the movie rubs our noses in our own excrement by including the filmed version of the epilogue, which, as everyone knows, involves Harry bidding a long, tearful farewell to his friends and sailing off to the Gray Havens with Bilbo and Gandalf Dumbledore. Other than the girls hair being frump-ified, we are now supposed to believe that these 20 yearolds are the mothers and fathers of 10-year-olds. Harrys son, Albus Severus Panera Tony Stark Fezzgig Potter, serves only to encourage impressionable Harry Potter fans that its socially acceptable, nay, quirky, to name your infant Albus. The very last image we are given includes Ron and Hermiones disturbingly mop-haired offspring, foiling my brain that there can be worse hair than Rons. I had only just

finished mentally sorting out the fact that the Weasely twins now 80 percent resemble a Charlie MacCarthy doll, and the fact that Helena Bonham Carters anti-climatic death scene was coupled with a Terminator-esque catchphrase (which I was horrified to learn was actually a line in the book). Undulating through all of these thoughts was the frustration of how arbitrary the magic in this world is. You can turn goblets into animals but you cant mend a damn wound. EVERYONE WOULD STILL BE ALIVE and J.K. wouldnt have to resort to George R.R. Martins tactic of indiscriminate character death to look like a good writer. It will be interesting to see where these actors go now that the franchise is over. So far, Harry has been naked on Broadway, Neville is now hot, Ron presumably has bad hair somewhere, and Hermione got her bajingo photographed while getting out of a car. Sounds like were off to a good start! As for me, Ill just be sitting back, anticipating the release of a normal, plausible series like Twilight: Breaking Dawn.

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