Well, here I am, and I've finally seen the new Harry Potter movie. My ticket stub says "Harry—Prison," which is funny right off the bat. But let's get some embarrassing business out of the way first. As you may have noticed, I've begun cranking my way through the HP books. I admit, I was an extremely reluctant reader. I distrust anything that the whole world is raving about, and I resisted for a long time. In the end I succumbed because I love literature of all sorts, and I can't resist the promise of a great read. It was also so I wouldn't feel so freakin' left out in family conversations. Just imagine if, for some unimaginable reason, you hadn't seen Star Wars, and everyone around you was chattering about it endlessly, day in and day out, from July 4th to Turkey Day. "Oh, I keep forgetting you haven't seen it," they'd say, looking as if they felt quite sorry for you. "But like I was saying, Han Solo is really the embodiment of the mythic trickster figure in ancient cultures"—and so on.

Alfonse Cuaron directed, and I was a little curious how that would turn out. The last film of his, Y Tu Mama Tambien, was thematically fun but WAY racier than anything J.K. Rowling has written (at least in Books 1 through 3—I can't speak for 4 and 5). What Cuaron did, though, was bring the vitality and energy of his other movies to an enterprise in dire need of a makeover. If he hadn't stepped in, the HP movies may have gotten stranded Friday the 13th-style (remember: there were supposed to be 13 of those puppies) and just petered out after the fourth movie. But thanks to Cuaron's infusion of life, HP is no longer slogging along in quiet desperation, sagging under the weight of its own glossy charms. No longer is the audience lying still and thinking of England. Prisoner of Azkaban has such an exuberance to it that viewers should be more than happy to forgive its minor flaws and missteps. And if the viewers are not so inclined, then they're a bunch of ungrateful gits.

I've heard rumors that there was a heavy German Expressionist flavor to this film, and I have to agree. From the bizarre and eerily cheerful ride on the Knight Bus, to the stark cinematography and angular sets that are oddly reminiscent of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, this latest installment of the HP saga couldn't be any more "ich bin ein Berliner" if it taped a jelly donut to its head and sang two choruses of "Deutschland Deutschland uber alles." But there is also an element of reality to the filming that is unexpected. The scenery and set look real, which just makes the magical occurrences that much more believable and fun to watch. Cuaron also pays close attention to details. For every item your eye falls on, there are three more fantastic things lurking in the background, waiting to be discovered. Consider the well-appointed office of Professor Lupin, the likable new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Crammed full of nifty science stuff and festooned with spinning metal orbs, it reminded me of Augra's astronomy lab from that underrated pagan Muppet-fest, The Dark Crystal. Professor Lupin's stuff is not there to be commented on—it's there to be absorbed and to give the scene credibility. Well done, Alfonse.

Some people have complained that events are shifted around. This is true, but it didn't really bother me, even though I had finished the book less than a week earlier and it was all fresh in my mind. Draco is a little more sniveling than he is in the book, and I really wanted to see an unconscious Snape floating around and bumping his head on the ceiling of the cave—but whatever. Cuaron made choices to uphold his cinematic vision, and on the whole I agree with them. At any rate, this movie reflected the witty-weird nature of the books way better than either of the previous two films.

There's no point in me discussing the story, because everybody on the planet has read it. But I do have a few comments on specifics. First, the dementors are really creepy, especially if you factor in their resemblance to Ring Wraiths. They wear those long, clingy robes that are so fashionable with the Undead these days, but when you glimpse what's beneath the designer rags, you won't know whether to pee your pants in terror or just vomit. I'm not kidding about this—they're seriously disturbing. Second, you get a golden happy prize if you can guess what's going on with Gary Oldman.

There you have it. Prisoner of Azkaban is surreal, funny, and dark—just the way F.W. Murnau would have wanted it.

Tags: movies