Harry Potter and the Franchise of Plenty

It’s been over ten years since I first climbed down off of the pretentious trolley and read the first book in the Harry Potter series. Like with many things, (Mac products, Christopher Nolan movies) I resisted it for a long time simply because it was popular and I like to be contrary. Then one day, I think it was my junior or senior year in high school, I was at my friends house baking a cake. I don’t know what you did for fun in your teenage years, but apparently we liked to bake. We must’ve forgotten some key ingredient because my friend had to run to the store. Why she left and I stayed when it was her house, I can’t tell you. All I know is that in the time she was gone, I read a third of “Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone,” which she had left on her dining room table. It was magical and fun, and appealed to the fantasy nerd in me.

Any fantasy scholar knows Harry Potter is not the first child wizard learning magic to come on the young adult literature scene, but it seems the first to resonate with such a massive audience. What could be more appealing to children, or any reader for that matter, than a story of a boy who had nothing, but grew to possess powers and great strength. A young lad faced time and time again with obstacles, but through his own abilities and good friends, always comes out on top, no matter how dark it may look at times. It’s probably the same reason why Star Wars is so popular. It’s the most basic hero’s journey of all time.

After that serendipitous baking mishap, I couldn’t resist any more. This was just after the fourth book had come out, and I went on to read all four within a week. Then the waiting began. Over the years I have eagerly anticipated the release of the remaining three books, and all eight Harry Potter films. I’ve dressed up for Harry Potter parties, lied to friends about social obligations to attend midnight screenings, and almost broke up with a boyfriend once after he questioned why it was so important I pick up “Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix” the night it was released. Like for many people, Harry Potter had become more to me than just light reading. It was a ticket to someplace special and joyous, both intensely captivating and surprisingly meaningful.

Yet I felt curiously empty of emotion when I finally sat down in a theatre to watch the final film adaptation of book seven, “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.” Maybe it was because I already knew how it was going to end. I remember reading book seven a few years back. I stayed up all night to finish it, finally collapsing on my friend’s bed, well after dawn. I’d been emotional then. Tired, and sad, wanting more and feeling dissatisfied. J.K. Rowling had given us such an elaborate world, so dense and detailed, and then it was just gone.

The film, less than two hours, was exactly what I’d expected of it. It had all the important parts, the glowing hero moments and the quiet tragedies. I enjoyed it, to be sure, especially when gangly, awkward Neville finally gets to kick some ass in Harry Potter‘s army of wizard teens. But still, it was a far cry from the frenzied joy I’d felt for previous Potter releases, and I don‘t believe it was due to any fault of the film. In the last ten years of Harry Potter films, I have been constantly asked how the books compared to the movie, and every time I had a rather difficult time answering. In reality, it’s never truly the book we’re comparing it too, is it? It’s our own imaginations. How did we imagine Hogwarts to look? Or any of the characters? To be honest, it’s been so long since that initial reading, the film actors have nearly drowned out my initial impressions. In the book, I loved that Rowling described Hermione as having bushy hair and buck teeth, and therefore resented poor Emma Watson’s prettiness from day one. This is the nature of the adaptation. No matter how good the film is, it can never be good enough.

So I implore you all, if you haven’t read the books already, and you’re interested in seeing the movies, read the books first. They’re terribly easy to get through, and at times make much more sense with all the little bits and pieces filled in. And I promise you, while it may not be the moment of literary nirvana I experienced in my youth, at least it’ll make you hate Hermione a lot less.