Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix: B

There is a curse and a blessing built-in to one's viewing experience of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix when one has already raced through J.K. Rowling's book on which the movie is based. I was one such of these people and so suffered the fate of probably millions: that of watching the dense, vivid narrative of the book go through the process of a slash-and-burn adaptation. Director David Yates has been quoted as saying that they couldn't have possibly kept all the sub-plots and character interaction of Rowling's story arc (which in this chapter details the early stirrings of rebellion against Lord Voldemort's - played with ever more slithery grace by Ralph Fiennes - growing army) which is perfectly understandable - the book was after all more than 800 pages - and yet is this literary translation a triumph of down-sizing? Not quite. Though there are still many familiar delights to the movie series (Alan Rickman continually steals his every scene as venomous Professor Snape) and a few new ones (Imelda Staunton as coated-in-pink Professor Umbridge), this latest installment underwhelms with its leaner tale, skinnier character portraits and flashier, colder, magical duels.

When we first meet Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) he's a simmering stew of late-adolescent hormones and helplessness who feels as if, quite literally, life is passing him by. Not only that, but he also feels out-of-the-loop when it comes to battling the Dark Lord, a fact made all the worst by the nasty propaganda spread by a fearlessly fearful Minister of Magic (Robert Hardy) concerning Harry's mental state (FYI: most people are put-out by a determinded doom sayer, even when said sayer is right). All in all, our dear hero is having a pretty lousy summer...until he encounters a few choice dark creatures. The ensuing battle, and the events that follow, enfold Harry once again in the sumptuous, dark currents of J.K. Rowling's magical creation of a wizarding world.

You thought I meant in the movie? Well, I did...sort of. In the movie most of what I described above does in fact happen, but it rushes by in a visual whirlwind with an angry Mr. Potter as its powering force. Yet the wonder and magic of his battle (and subsequent trial) lasts only long enough to get your hopes up...then deflates. Every time I wanted to get on the movie's wavelength I was held back by the thought that for those who hadn't indulged in the literary form of Harry's adventures, this would all seem alittle confusing...or stupid...or grim...or boring. The script, by Michael Goldenberg, is funny and even quite entertaining but as a translation of the source material its far too reliant on previous knowledge; or worse, it just doesn't care.

I say all of this in a roundabout way of asking a question: if, as in the movie, Harry becomes progressively more withdrawn without a reason how are we to sympathize or relate? The answer: we remember exactly how he felt in the book! Ok, here's another riddle: how are we to react to the scene on film when Cho and Harry kiss if we hadn't seen a few sparks between them beforehand? The answer: we remember all their little flirty exchanges and cautious manueverings from the book! See a pattern? This isn't to say that Yates method of staging the film as more literal than mental, more "magical" than, you know, actually magical is overtly offensive or faulty. But the thought that the hefty emotions and rounded tales of the book had been cut and butchered for the meat at their center couldn't escape me; that no matter how many nifty British actors popped up to glaze the screen in a comic firestorm or in tasty sarcasm the fact of the matter still remains unchanged: this is one for the readers, longing to see their beloved characters and memorized bits of dialogue on screen, not for the moviegoers, excited at the thought of meeting and hearing all of this for the first time. The difference? Nostalgia or delight; fond remembrance or blazing wonder.