“I long ago dispensed with makeup artists and now rely on sculptors, leather workers, and the occasional child laborer,” Maggie snarled.
Alan Rickman returns, looking more like that old woman Wayne Newton than ever. Rickman is famed for going over the top, but in the past I have at least been able to see that top from where I was sitting. This time, Rickman’s notoriously syrupy and slow dialogue delivery contained so many pregnant pauses my water broke at the 90 minute mark.
Yes, Rickman straddles vowels like models straddle Ryan Reynolds.
And there’s the vacuous Luna who has learned next to nothing about acting since the less than nothing she knew in the last Potter film. Someone please explain Luna to me, and why she seems to be treating her Glaucoma with well more than the legal limit of medicinal marijuana.
As always in Harry Potter films, we have the obsessions with wands.
There’s the elder wand, also called the “Hef wand,” that’s the one that wears a pipe and a robe to host parties at its mansion.
“The wand chooses the wizard,” says John Hurt, whose own wand hasn’t made any choices since its scaffolding collapsed after Bea Arthur died.
“My wand has chosen Scarlett Johansson,” said the ghost of Professor Dumbledore.
“Many a wand has made that choice,” warned Professor Slughorn. “Why not choose Jennifer Lopez – she is between wands right now.”
“Egads, no. Have you forgotten she nearly broke Ben Affleck’s wand in two? A wand must think with its head, not its heart. Look at John Cusack’s wand. It has penetrated more secret locations than the Navy SEALS!”
I’ll miss the Harry Potter saga. Show me another band of heroes who can save the world in hoodies and cardigans, and I’ll show you the spell “Cardigansus Fashionatus!”
It’s time to defend Hogwarts from the encroaching evil of Valdemort and his crew. The cost is heavy – and I mean the cost of CG.
“Hoodies over here! Knickers fall back! Cardigans attack the left flank. We’re low on rocket propelled grenades and suspenders!” said Maggie Smith whooping what was either a great war cry or a death rattle.
“Bow and arrow ties, fire!”
And so the sun sets on Lord Valdemort, whose absent nose is a particular handicap considering everybody in the audience could smell where this series was headed.
“I’m so thrilled to have been in movies that people have actually seen,” said Ralph Fiennes. “Now I will return to my regular job: Hypnotizing tiny Indie film audiences to sleep.”
Fast forward several years hence where we see what has become of our young heroes, and it ain’t pretty:
Old Young Malfoy looks like the kind of Wizard who hails from Oz.
Harry Potter has given birth to sideburns matched like luggage to his eyebrows and stowed together in the same overhead rack.
Against all conceivable Hollywood logic, Ron has romanced Hermione and, worse, spawned a mini-me.
And Hermione has graduated from Hogwarts cloaks to Mom Jeans – “Elasticatus Roomitatus!”
Yes, every child’s magic-filled fantasy has become the adult’s dashed hopes, vanishing hair, Sam’s Club card, and Joan Rivers Diamondesque earrings.
Thank you, Harry, all is well in the world!
Now it’s time for a new generation at Hogwarts. It’s time for a fresh game of Quidditch.
It’s time, as the leader of a different sort of Next Generation used to say, to “see what’s out there.”