The Grand Budapest Hotel (Wes Anderson)

The Budapest.

Fresh off the success of his pre-adolescent love story that is "Moonrise Kingdom", Wes Anderson is back, after a mere 2 years, for "The Grand Budapest Hotel", a film that is as deeply troubling as a penny dreadful yet as deft in its storytelling as a great piece of literature. It is also particularly notable for having in its disposal a wide array of well-known actors, no matter how out of place some of them may ostensibly be in a Wes Anderson picture,  that figure perfectly into this otherwise odd little film.

For almost every single one of the esteemed filmmaker's niche fan, this project is undoubtedly a great step towards the right direction because Anderson finally ventures into a genre that is yet to be tread by his cinematic shtick. If almost all of his previous films deal largely with the dysfunctions of certain families and how they affect the already idiosyncratic world they live in, "The Grand Budapest Hotel" adversely creates a vast, "Dr. Zhivago-like" dreamland of quirks and unexpected politics that seem to overwhelm the main characters in ways both good and bad. Reminiscent of Charles Chaplin and how he has specifically concocted fictitious nations that mirror real countries (Tomainia as Germany and Bacteria as Italy) for his dim-witted dictators to rule over in "The Great Dictator", Wes Anderson has created the Republic of Zubrowka: the place where the titular hotel is situated. Run by the charismatic, well-mannered, and overly cordial Gustave H (Ralph Fiennes) and assisted by the 'divine' lobby boy named Zero (Tony Revolori), the hotel, as lavish as it is, is shown as something that's kept alive not just by the quantity of rich guests that flock it, but also by the odd kind of discipline Gustave indoctrinates to his subordinates. It is also quite in order to mention that Gustave consistently engages in sleazy friendships with "rich, old, insecure, vain, superficial, and blonde" women, which makes his job all the more financially rewarding.

For Wes Anderson purists, watching "The Grand Budapest Hotel" is a gratifying experience, and even that, for some, is an understatement. With his visual symmetry evidently at its most impressive in this film and his deadpan humor now deliciously lined with some hints of classic slapstick and shocking violence, he has admittedly upped the ante. Because of how Anderson has slightly altered his game for this film while tackling themes previously unfamiliar to him (murder, wartime politics, and the likes), he has made genre archetypes conform to his patented aesthetics and not the other way around, and that, at least from where I see it, is a mark of a true auteur.

On the other hand, though, for film fans that are slowly getting quite irate of Wes Anderson's gimmicky style, "The Grand Budapest Hotel" may very well sound the death knell for any chance of them being endeared to his future works. Abundant and almost abusive in its use of tableaux, intentional lack of comic timing, and self-conscious clichés, the film can very well turn people away because Wes Anderson's deadpan approach to filmmaking is at is final, most unbreakable form here. In "Rushmore", it's quite obvious that he's still unsure if what he's making is a coming-of-age dramedy or a romantic comedy. In "The Royal Tenenbaums" and even "The Darjeeling Limited", the emotions are still that of a traditional indie crowd-pleaser. Even the "Fantastic Mr. Fox" is still a children's movie in every sense. But here in "The Grand Budapest Hotel, Wes Anderson seems to care lesser about what people may say about it or whether or not it defies genre classification. There are moments where vignettes are used in awkward ways while there are also scenes where movements are obviously sped up (perhaps to channel comedy pictures from the silent era). Also, he is quite unapologetic in using artificial-looking backdrops to reinforce the film's cartoonish appeal, which unfamiliar viewers may perceive as utterly phony or just plain indulgent. But on the upside, the film's screenplay is clever, fast-witted, and absurdly hysterical, which is the primary reason why Wes Anderson is still quite a darling among film critics despite the fact that he often inspires polarizing sentiments among cinephiles.

As for the performances, Raph Fiennes may have just punched his ticket for a trip to Dolby Theatre for his scene-stealing yet completely effortless turn as Gustave H, while the all-star cast never faltered in providing the film some energy to convince us to be part of the almost magical realist world of Zubrowka for less than 2 hours, and also the ample wit in delivering seemingly archaic lines in sarcastic ways that miraculously make them seem very much refreshing.

Reality check: "The Grand Budapest Hotel" may not be Wes Anderson's best work (though it's really, really close), but it's definitely the most entertaining, what with its chase sequences, all that Willem Dafoe moments, plus that specific (at least for me) "Holy shit, is that Jeff Goldblum?!" scene. Though its wartime setting may put off some fans who have grown accustomed to Wes Anderson films that are typically smaller in scale and centered on a particular family's collective troubles, this film is a peek into how great Wes Anderson can be if he tries out things and themes that are on the opposite side of his comfort zone. There's something in this film which really suggests that Wes Anderson, despite the fact that he will no doubt live and die by his trademark aesthetics, is in for a certain reinvention, storytelling-wise. Indeed, I am sold; sold to this man who was once only seemingly concerned in featuring the Futura font and some gramophones in his films but is now adventurous enough to take on murder, war, and politics and make them seem laughable instead of distressing. It's a 'grand' illusion, what he has created here.     

FINAL RATING

Skyfall (Sam Mendes)

Bond's back.

After the dud that was "The Bourne Legacy", we finally got the espionage film of the year that we all deserve in the form of "Skyfall", the 23rd entry in the Bond film franchise which also serves as an apt commemoration of 007's 50 years of cinematic existence. 

     

Compared to the masterful "Casino Royale" and the mediocre "Quantum of Solace", "Skyfall" is far less complicated in its narrative but heavier in terms of what is at stake. Our beloved 'M' (played by the great Dame Judi Dench), Bond's stern superior who has always been one step behind our equally beloved master spy, is at her most involved in this film, not to mention the fact that she's also the one who's gravely in peril this time. On the other hand, there's also Gareth Mallory (Ralph Fiennes), a man whose firm principles often clash with his bureaucratic job.  

     

If one would notice, "Skyfall" is a bit less in its action compared to Daniel Craig's first two Bond outings. With the film's biggest action set piece audaciously positioned even before the lush opening credits (with that beautiful song by Adele), director Sam Mendes has taken the ultimate gamble. If the film's best action sequence was immediately presented at the beginning, what, then, is left for "Skyfall"? Well, quite plentiful, really. 

     

Aside from the film's simplistic yet infinitely more compelling plot, the film is also rich in great performances, specifically by Judi Dench and Javier Bardem, whose portrayal of the villain Raoul Silva is as vengefully realistic as it is larger-than-life. Though he is not, in any way, a random anarchist like the Joker, Silva still mirrors the 'Clown Prince of Crime' especially in how he is concerned with flamboyant theatrics and metaphorical speeches. 

     

But then despite of Bardem's potentially scene-stealing role, I believe no one can easily overshadow Daniel Craig's power and screen presence as James Bond himself. If "Quantum of Solace" has served as a fairly muddled, speed bump-like transition film for him as 007, then I think "Skyfall" is the testament of how much he has really grown in the role. Right now, I can't help but think that he is indeed the most ideal Bond of all time, with apologies to Sean Connery and company of course. 

     

By possessing a more-than-convincing physique apt for a chick magnet, the physical abilities perfect for a globe-trotting, train roof-jumping secret agent and also the subtle wit that finely contrasts his intimidating exterior, Craig has all the elements of the quintessential Bond. No offense to both Sean Connery and Roger Moore, but can you really imagine either of them instigating a convincing fisticuff with anyone whom Daniel Craig has encountered all throughout his three Bond films? I doubt it. Granted, Sean did have that masterfully intense and claustrophobic train compartment fight with Robert Shaw in "From Russia with Love", but aside from that, there's next to nothing. What "Skyfall" has revived in the Bond tradition, at least in my view, is pure action grit. Never has Bond been more hard-hitting and convincing in action since Timothy Dalton and his brief 007 tenure. 

     

By relying less on the typical Bond ingredients (the girls, the gadgets and the usual dose of megalomaniacs) and more on how to put the words 'grit', 'emotion' and the name 'Bond' in the same sentence, "Skyfall" was able to elevate itself into something more than an action-packed spy feature the same way, eherm, here it goes, "The Dark Knight" trilogy has transcended the superhero genre (But then, I found out that "Skyfall" was indeed influenced by Nolan's powerful interpretation of the Batman legend). 

     

In a way, "Skyfall" is a film that's both ambitious in scope yet steadily humble in execution. It has the needed sense of modern-day sophistication and geographic vastness yet it also has this kick of old school flair, especially when that classic James Bond theme finally seeps in at almost exactly the same time the Aston Martin DB5 makes its on-screen return. Oh, and there's also the reinvention of both Q (Ben Whishaw) and Moneypenny (Naomie Harris); a bold move on Sam Mendes and company's part that has helped the film attain a fresh, more contemporary look while also maintaining a running sense of nostalgia. 

     

In the end, "Skyfall" may not be the most action-packed Bond film of all time, but it surely is the most emotionally demanding since, say, "On Her Majesty's Secret Service". Although "Casino Royale" certainly had its fair share of adequate dramatics that were seemingly amiss from previous Bond features (especially the Roger Moore vehicles), "Skyfall" still marks the franchise's highest emotional point. Why? Well, it's for me and all the other film fans that have enjoyed "Skyfall" to know and for you to find out. This is a roller coaster ride of a film, and that's not just pertaining to the action. Bond, amid the jumping, the fighting and lots of running, just proved in this film that he can also carry some serious dramatic weight. I think we're officially in for a new Bond Renaissance.

FINAL RATING

Red Dragon (Brett Ratner)

Dr. Lecter.

For some utterly unknown reasons, I have never really been that eager to watch this film despite of the fact that it has Hannibal Lecter in it (and we all know how magnetic the murderous bastard is). With Ridley Scott's "Hannibal" merely teetering between mediocrity and good in terms of quality, seeing "Red Dragon" has never been a recurring priority for yours truly mainly because I have locked myself up with the fact that "The Silence of the Lambs" is more than enough for me. But now that I have seen "Red Dragon" in its entirety (I've tried to see it once before; the damn DVD copy stopped halfway through the beginning), I can now safely say that I was very, very wrong by not seeing it any sooner. 

     

Not only has it recaptured the psychological complexity of "The Silence of the Lambs", it has also channeled the darkly rhythmic feel of a well-made '80s thriller. Oh, and did I mention that "Red Dragon" has a heavyweight cast? With prime actors Edward Norton, Ralph Fiennes and Anthony Hopkins leading the way (with Harvey Keitel, Philip Seymour Hoffman and Emily Watson on the side), do you really expect this film to fail? Well, if the script is weak, it surely will, but screenwriter Ted Tally has adapted Thomas Harris' novel of the same name with narrative patience and an otherworldly sense of dread (aided by Danny Elfman's escalating musical score) that it has made the film both frightening and mesmerizing. But surprisingly, the spine-tingling sensation that I have felt while watching the film is not because of Hopkins' Hannibal Lecter but because of Ralph Fiennes' part-sympathetic, part-monstrous turn as the 'Tooth Fairy' killer. 

     

It has always been argued that although Hannibal Lecter is the spine of the franchise and is, bar none, one of the most nightmarishly intimidating characters in film history, the plot-demanded 'other' killers are the ones that often steal the show. And by 'other' killers, I mean "The Silence of the Lambs'" Buffalo Bill (played by Ted Levine), "Hannibal's" Mason Verger (played by Gary Oldman) and now, "Red Dragon's" 'Tooth Fairy' killer. 

     

Of course, this perspective about the whole franchise has always been 'relative' and 'arguable', but in this film, I personally think that Ralph Fiennes has truly outshined Mr. Hopkins partly due to the fact that, at this point, we just know Hannibal Lecter too well. Though he is unpredictable, the danger that Lecter imposes to the audience is now, for a lack of a better term, all too cinematic. On the other hand, the way Fiennes' 'Tooth Fairy' unfolds and takes command of the screen is way more psychologically unsettling because it is insanity at its rawest and lowest form; personally, I find him to be more fascinating and disturbing because he can be as real as the next fellow. The likes of John Wayne Gacy can attest to that. 

     

I also liked the fact that 'Tooth Fairy's' M.O. is kept as ambiguous as possible and was made even more bizarre by some far-fetched mythological hints (the killer's symbolic association with a 'dragon' based on a William Blake painting) that further his preposterous delusions. This madness is, of course, carried out very well by Fiennes through his limiting facial expressions that suggest internal suppression. Here is a killer who knows the consequences of his murderous deeds yet cannot stop from doing them because of some misplaced sense of grandiosity (with him thinking that he is a 'dragon' incarnate) and superficial self-importance. 

     

On the other side of the spectrum, there's Will Graham (Edward Norton), a retired FBI agent who has been called back to duty (Aren't they all?) because of the 'Tooth Fairy' killings. He is also the one responsible for capturing Hannibal Lecter years before. A gifted forensic man, Graham sees projections not commonly seen by the ordinary eye yet repels the idea that he is special, which makes him the perfect counterpoint to Lecter's intellectual vanity. Unlike the complex relationship between Lecter and Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster in "The Silence of the Lambs", Julianne Moore in "Hannibal") in the previous films, Will Graham's affiliation with Dr. Lecter is more simplified to the point that their relationship seems to be dictated by the plot and not by their characters' respective personalities. 

     

All in all, I have to commend Brett Ratner in how he has surprised yours truly (and maybe everyone else) by successfully pulling off a complex psychological thriller. From a man whose most famous films include the "Rush Hour" trilogy and "X-Men: The Last Stand", Ratner has achieved to surprise us with the relative intricacy of "Red Dragon". Although it is not necessarily a great film, it is a highly enjoyable and intriguing one. And realizing that this is a prequel to one of the only three films that have won every major Academy Award back in 1991, this was a tall task that was took on with enough focus, style and unflinching psychological mystery. Let's have some Chianti, shall we?

FINAL RATING

In Bruges (Martin Mcdonagh)

Ken and Ray, in f***in' Bruges.

A second viewing.

Oh, the beauty of style and substance. Stripping down the very essence of filmmaking and wherever which way you try to go around its principles, it will just bring you back to these simple words. "In Bruges", a slick crime comedy, a most surprisingly solid morality play and a meditative travelogue that explores the historical and religious significance of the much-preserved medieval sights of Belgium's Bruges, is an exemplary flag-carrier of the two nouns. It's like a film that could have been directed by Guy Ritchie but with an added strength by way of its thematic depth.

If the aforementioned British director, whose films I particularly admire but have never completely drooled and obsessed over, puts contemporary gangsterism into certain feats of absurdist twists of fates and distortion of events, "In Bruges'" director Martin Mcdonagh had, in some ways, also incorporated such playfully omniscient style into his characters but only as a superficially conscious device. Mcdonagh has put his two protagonists, Ken (the great Brendan Gleeson) and Ray (a revelatory performance by Colin Farrell which won him a Golden Globe) into the 'fairy tale-like' corners of Bruges because of a botched hit, which claimed the life of a child, but dared not to laugh at their predicament.

Sure, it's easy for the film to elicit sardonic smiles and chuckles from its audience judging from the scenario alone, which centers on the idea of two seemingly hardened criminals entrapped in an ennui-inspiring place, especially for people like them which the film has assumed to despise culture and history (such is not the case for Ken, it is for Ray). But unlike Ritchie's half-serious gangster films, "In Bruges" looks humorous only in its very surface. It is very distinct on the way it has conveyed the ever-recurring and ever-haunting notions of guilt and redemption without looking forced at the slightest bit. Maybe it's Brendan Gleeson and Colin Farrell's performances, maybe it is the freshness of the material itself, or maybe it is the brilliant cinematography, by Eigil Bryld, and musical score, by Carter Burwell. But to argue for each side would be very futile. Maybe, they just all work together perfectly.

And then there's Ralph Fiennes, whose portrayal of the rabid but highly principled gangster Harry Waters, the man who has sent Ken and Ray into the dreamy, cobble stone-laden streets of Bruges because of the latter's careless mistake, has caused many viewers to compare or even consider his performance as something of a homage to Ben Kingsley's unexpected turn as the unpredictable crime boss Don Logan in "Sexy Beast".

With the help of the film's great screenplay filled with trivial cues and modern conversationalist tones, which we just can't deny to have been influenced one way or another by "Pulp Fiction", Fiennes' character, which has the negative potential to be very caricature-like, passed off as somewhat believable and genuinely menacing in his distinct way.

We know of his principles, we know that he does not stand for killing innocent people, especially children, and we know that if some unexpected shit hits the fan, he won't think twice to fix everything himself and lull breakers of his code into an eternal sleep. His beliefs are forged of extremism, his methods violent but strangely understandable, his paradoxical impulse to kill someone who wrongly killed somebody is harshly immediate but completely undeniable.

Looking at the parallels of the film's themes with biblical concepts of hell, purgatory and the penance for sins, 'Bruges' might as well be both the purgatory and hell, and the penance for sins may be the film's depiction of the psychological manifestation of guilt, or may also be Harry himself, who just arrived, armed with a handgun and some 'dumdums', to collect.

"In Bruges" surely has been nothing but a sleeper hit more than 3 years ago, with the likes of "Slumdog Millionaire" and "The Dark Knight" taking over and dominating 2008's cinematic scene. Sure, that's also how I perceived this film at the time: A fascinatingly humorous, uniquely made crime film and nothing more (although I saw my 2008's top 10 movie lists on my old blog and saw it ranked at no. 3. I may just need to move it up a bit higher). But after rewatching it to once again witness its richly layered take regarding the context of existential woes, personal demons and bitter regret unfold in a beautiful ballet of humor and violence, it is, I can personally say, one of the greatest postmodern crime films in existence and simply put one of the decade's best films.

FINAL RATING

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2 (David Yates)

The much awaited confrontation with 'You-Know-Who'.

At last, we reached the end. The final Harry Potter film. The final adventure of the characters we both loved and hated. The heated conclusion. The teary-eyed farewell. As I see the vicinity of Hogwarts in complete rubble and places such as the Forbidden Forest nothing but abandoned, although I never followed the "Harry Potter" saga that much closely, there's this subconscious childhood reminiscence of the wondrous universe that these films have once created, and how it's extremely saddening to see these faint memories of colorfully magical places turn into a grayish limbo-like battle arena. But then again, like Voldemort's villainous return to form, this transformation is purely inevitable to reach the peak of the story's ultimate crescendo.

Going with the tradition of the last 3 films of the series, "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2" remained at ease with having small in-between adventures before it goes relentlessly full-speed to the much-anticipated final encounter between the Dark Lord and our hero, whose bravery is put to the greatest test.

A particularly well-made scene is the initial action sequence of Potter and company escaping from the vaults while riding an obviously exhausted and aging dragon. From these wonderfully computer-generated dragon alone, one can easily see the sense of magical realism that the film is heading into. It's not your usually 'bold' representation of the said creature where it flaps its enormous wings like it's a perfect god of the skies. Like how the "Harry Potter" film franchise has grown and aged, the dragon shows the passing of time and its attachment into a serious, more visually conscious fantasy film whose emotional core is also very much attended to.

The film, like the previous ones, is littered with great performances all around that are more or less fueled by a common dramatic baggage that senses both victory and defeat in a constantly contradicting fashion. But Alan Rickman, who portrayed Severus Snape with pitch-perfect indifference and apathy all throughout the saga, was highlighted by the film (finely integrated into the film with rich visuals) using a clever flashback that has put into exposition both a startling plot twist and an unexpected heroism.

All of that, enhanced by Rickman's best performance in the series yet, greatly contributed in properly depicting maybe the best character of the whole J.K. Rowling wizard universe aside from Harry Potter himself (though some may passionately argue that he's merely a monotonous poster hero).

Countless times it has been said that the entirety of Harry Potter's story isn't for children in the first place or are there little to no purely kid-friendly subjects in it save for the occasional awes and wonders. But "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2" simply takes the cake as the most matured by way of how it has subtly analogized Dumbledore and Snape's relationship to that of Jesus Christ and Judas' and its realistic contemplation about death and sacrifice (highlighted by the scene where Harry Potter, Radcliffe saving what maybe his best performance for last, asks Sirius Black whether or not dying hurts).

Judging from its overall positive reception by audiences, comparisons with "The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King" is a given, but unlike the aforementioned Peter Jackson film, "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2" is much more narrow in its conclusion, preferring simplistic summation rather than full, overlong and seemingly endless walk towards a very satisfying end.

But sadly, it is also short in its much-hyped duel between Potter and Voldemort, which I think would have made the film a perfect one if only it would have been a minute or two longer. And Is that epilogue really necessary? Is Neville Longbottom really that essential a character to be a full-fledged hard hero? Like Voldemort's strategic positioning of his Horcruxes, this film proves to be very, very powerful yet particularly flawed.

But needless to say, it's still a fitting end to a decade-long cinematic display of love, magic and friendship that has undoubtedly left a mark to each and every one's imaginations who had the chance to witness it all from the innocent start until the very end. But as we see Potter's tranquil smile in the end, something tells me that sadness is all but absent. Somewhere, there's still heaviness. A feeling that channels ours. Somehow, we never really wanted it to end. There's a reason why "Pottermore" was created.

FINAL RATING

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1 (David Yates)

Harry, Hermione and a Horcrux.

It's easy to say that "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1" pumped you up for the final Potter film. But aside from that plain rave about the film (I honestly think that saying that this merely 'pumped' you up for the next one undermines this film's true worth as a pure film on its own), this one's also a well-conceived exercise in atmosphere building. True to the inevitability of its transition of tone, it's given that "Half-Blood Prince" fully paved way for the immense darkness that has since fully set in into the whole magical saga. But this first-half adaptation film really makes the previous installment seem like an exuberant daisy farm.

With "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1" indulging its key story into such themes as death, emotional degradation and desire, one can easily suffice that this one's a true departure of what the film series used to be. But again, unearthing these dark undertones and integrating them into the mythos of Harry Potter purely enhanced the potential of what the series can really be.

The film opened with a stark dramatic introduction into the emotional and decisive conflict of Potter and his friends, looking at windows and uttering 'Obliviate' spells as they try to meditate on their final adventure where both Hogwarts and the world's fate lie. Through this and a cunning initial action sequence (that has brought magical carnage into the city outskirts), it's easy to see that this film won't be hesitant anymore in its displays of negative emotions and suspenseful chaos.

Then the film suddenly transports its heroes' quest into the Ministry of Magic itself that seems like a fantastical remodeling of the bureaucratic, uber-cyclical world of Terry Gilliam's "Brazil" (with a Graham Chapman look-alike as Ron Weasley's disguise). Two introductory scenes of pure adventures wrapped in dark intents and intrigues. These types of moments, no matter how bordering craziness some scenes may look like, truly conforms with the wondrous tradition of the Potter lore. But hinting at shades of blackness and blue, "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1" is much grittier in its collection of episodic tasks and missions and are ultimately more satisfactory in their respective in-between catches of breath.

But this time, there's no dragon-riding suspense or broomstick-riding, flying keys-fighting excitement just for the sake of it and how the word 'fantasy' relate with the name Harry Potter just like how the term 'adventure' connects with Indiana Jones. This time, there's much more at stake.

Among the other films in the series, this film is the most mature in its exploration of the Potter-Granger-Weasley friendship dynamics and marks David Yates' pure ease and proper form as a "Harry Potter" film director. Its only minor flaw, though, is the eponymous Deathly Hallows' improper narrative positioning within the duration of the film and how it was actually tackled. For 2 and a half hours, the film has gotten itself from the most dangerous of perils and into the most bitter of jealousies yet the very titular 'Deathly Hallows' were only imposed into proper exposition in the last 20 minutes or so of the film. Although the very retelling of the "Canterbury Tales-like" story of the Deathly Hallows legend is thoroughly overdue, it was visually told in a style that has likely to have merged Indonesian 'Wayang Kulit' puppetry with atmospheric CGI animation that bursts of great imagination.

Now, if 'hyped' is the only thing that you've felt after watching "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1", then the film has failed to inculcate its whole power unto you. For me, I'll describe it as a very 'powerful prelude that can wholly stand alone'. But of course, speaking of the anticipation regarding part 2, I was also truly pumped, alright.

FINAL RATING

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (David Yates)

'You-Know-Who'.

It has been quite obvious that the "Harry Potter" film series has gradually became darker and darker the same time when its main stars grew older and taller. This change of thematic tone is given for such a series of far-flung magical mythology because as film viewers, we can't stay with what's merely colorful and limited forever. We can't indulge ourselves with wondrous flying cars and levitating spells for a long time when there's the Dark Lord himself and some Dementors somewhere out there.

So if "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire" clearly is the prelude to the series' descent into narrative darkness and character complexities, "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" is the further sustenance of this said transformation of tone. Throughout the film, we see scenes completely colorized with blue, signaling an impending, higher conflict. While the characters, especially Potter himself (Daniel Radcliffe really reminds me of Keanu Reeves' acting chops in many scenes), who is drawn into a psychological torment/mind games with 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'.

Then ironically, Sirius Black, played by the ever-disturbingly brilliant Gary Oldman, whose roles of marauding villains completely overwhelm his resume, is surprisingly the lighter part of the film as Potter's father figure in the middle of an escalating tension. The previous installment, "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire", is a very action-packed film that was although justified in its action sequences by the mere Triwizard Tournament, translates the best into a good old blockbuster offering.

In contrast, "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" lacks the action set pieces (except the climactic but short-lived Lord Voldemort and Dumbledore duel of contradicting elements) and the overall sense of story-telling vitality save for its slowly relishing and equally unnerving build-up into an ultimate encounter.

Even the bureaucratic theme in the film is little to no significance into the film's general 'awaiting a villain's return' tone except for the fact that this little plot line summarizes the Ministry of Magic's trembling fear for the overpowering Voldemort's revival of powers. Although I have to say that I immensely liked Imelda Staunton's effective performance as the dictatorial, Trunchbull-like Dolores Umbridge.

In the long run, what will generally matter is how the franchise has ended. There are some which have finished with high and flying colors ("The Lord of the Rings" saga and the "Star Wars" sextology), but there were numerous which have ended with bitter-tasting salvos (such as "The Matrix" and Christopher Reeve's "Superman" films). "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" will surely be remembered as that middle 'Potter' film which concluded with a high-powered encounter between two powerfully opposite wizards and an installment in the franchise with lots and lots of blue. Oh, and maybe as that film that contains an 'under a mistletoe' kissing scene for our beloved titular hero.

FINAL RATING