Retrospective: Harry Potter and the Re-Defining Hollywood Blockbuster Franchise (2001 - 2011)

Though the fantastical world and griping story of Harry Potter came to an end five years ago, one does not need a Time Turner to re-live the magic. Marvel Studios has created such an intriguing, game changing Hollywood product in their "cinematic universe," but it could be argued that that might not have come to fruition without the Potter franchise preceding it. Indeed, thinking back on it now, the very idea of a single franchise telling largely one overarching story throughout the course of a decade and eight films, with largely the same cast throughout the entire process, was hugely ambitious. It is something that truly had never been done before.

Despite several director changes, we somehow obtained a rather cohesive vision of the world, mixed with some interesting and visually stunning work from others (namely Alfonso Cuaron, but Yates contributed to this as well in his second film Half-Blood Prince). We could have wound up with wildly differing versions of Hogwarts, or even the characters, with altering tones and visual queues. Instead, we saw a franchise with some flexibility, yet remain consistent. Like the source material as well, we saw the darkness brought to life, with maturing themes and story elements to match the aging cast and characters.

So much of the franchise's success is intrinsically dependent on author JK Rowling, who penned an incredibly well structured book series. While some of the films perhaps lacked interesting filmmaking or felt cinematically bland, they still work largely because the structure is solid. Rowling did a great job establishing key plot elements that would return. Things rarely vanished, and the conclusion of each installment was well set up. Examples of this would be the introduction of Professor Pomona Sprout and her mandrakes, which served as the typical first act classroom scene to establish the schooling element of Hogwarts, but later provided the cure for the petrified students at the conclusion. Another simple example would be the game of Wizard's Chess that Ron and Harry play in Philosopher's Stone, which quietly establishes Ron as being good at the game, and comes back as one of the big tests the trio must overcome at the end.

Of course, sometimes there are some contrived plot points, like the whole bit about Dobby telling Harry that he can only be freed if his master presents him with clothes at the beginning of Chamber of Secrets. It isn't exactly the smoothest, since that plot element is so strange and he brings it up rather clumsily, but that does come back at the end. So even with some forced points, they still make it a point to set things up. Nothing should ultimately come as a surprise, even if it sometimes takes a while to develop. The perfect example of this would be the use of polyjuice. This is a rather minor plot element in Chamber of Secrets, establishing this potion's power and popularity within the world. It doesn't ultimately pay off in terms of plot, though, until Goblet of Fire, when attentive and knowledgeable film goers (who haven't read the books) might guess at the fact that Mad-Eye Moody was actually David Tennant's Barty Crouch Jr in disguise. It's a brilliant pay-off that rewards viewers should they be paying attention and retaining information they've witnessed already.

If you go back and re-watch all eight films in the franchise, you can't help but notice how much they do things like this. This, again, is because of Rowling's writing. Setting Dobby free at the end of Chamber of Secrets is explicitly setting up his inevitable return in Deathly Hallows. Similarly, Ron mentions his brother being a dragon trainer a couple of times in the first few films, which is setting up his aiding Harry (sort of) in Goblet of Fire. The Room of Requirement in Order of the Phoenix ultimately holds little significance to the greater plot of that individual installment, but serves to set up its return of much greater value in Deathly Hallows. Quidditch itself is primarily there to establish Harry's abilities on a broom, which sets up key moments in Goblet of Fire as well as Deathly Hallows. Even thematically, they establish reasons for Ron to feel insecure when comparing himself to Harry in Goblet of Fire, which comes back later in Deathly Hallows as he wears the horcrux. Basically, they develop a natural feeling in Ron that the horcrux then exploits later. There are so many examples of this kind of groundwork being laid early that it would take too long to list them all. (And if you have read any of my reviews of Edgar Wright films, you probably know that this is the kind of thing I absolutely adore.)

What makes Harry Potter stand apart from any other Hollywood franchise is how it merges the worlds of basic entertainment with a story filled with themes, that requires some thinking, and often includes visual styles that challenge viewers to pay attention. It is not asking viewers to simply enjoy the ride the way that, say, Transformers does, nor does it simply scratch the surface of thematic points the way that Marvel movies do.

All things considered, there is really one film in particular that stands out: The Prisoner of Azkaban. This piece could easily turn into gushing praise of the film, and the incredible job that director Alfonso Cuaron brought to the franchise (yes, Children of Men, Gravity, Y Tu Mama Tambien Alfonso Cuaron). Following the capable, but rather stale filmmaking style of Chris Columbus, Cuaron introduced young Potter fans to interesting filmmaking, well executed shot composition, more individualistic characters, and put emphasis on viewers obtaining visual literacy. Gone are the stiff, by the books transition of time, replaced here through images depicting it. The whomping willow outside the school, once the source of a brief action sequence, now serves to depict the passage of time in a unique way. Cuaron also breathed real life into Hogwarts, allowing the young actors to have input on what they wore. Taking them out of their robes gave greater personality to each character, and provided a more naturalistic feeling to the school.

He also allowed the actors to do more. Consider the times where he has a long take featuring Daniel Radcliffe discussing things with Remus Lupin. The fact that some of those scenes lasts over 90 seconds without a cut, complete with camera movements and character actions, shows a clear trust in the actors. Perhaps best of all is the sequence with the boggart. Watch that scene and try to fully follow it. Here, let me post it below so you can:

The content of the scene features the students confronting what they fear most - thematically about self-reflection. The camera begins "in" the mirror itself, coming out through it into the "real world." After several minutes of wandering around the room, Remus is forced to step in and throws the boggart back into the cabinet. The camera follows it, going once again back "through" the mirror, ending the scene "in" the reflection. All the while, quietly foreshadowing Remus's secret that he's a werewolf (when he steps in, the dementor changes into a full moon - his greatest fear). Plus, it again hints at the Time Turner of Hermione (as the camera starts in the reflection and makes its way out, Hermione is nowhere to be seen, only to show up standing right next to Ron a moment later, just off camera so as to not see her simply pop in).

Prisoner of Azkaban also marked the beginning of the darker story threads, with each subsequent film getting progressively darker. As the tone of the plot became more intense and distressing, the visual look matched. Taking over the final four films, David Yates wound up with several films filled with scenes at night, or without light. Both parts of Deathly Hallows are so visibly darkened that you can't watch them with any sort of light on in the room, otherwise you can't see what's going on! (This functions as a bit of a double edged sword. On one hand, it creates a stylistic appearance syncing up with the tone of the story. On another, it is maybe not great to make a cinematic film that is so poorly lit that you sometimes can't even see anything.)

By the end of Goblet of Fire, the plot has gotten fully underway. The more enchanted nature of the first two Columbus films fall to the wayside. Yet for all the grittier story elements and the bleaker prospect for the characters, they are careful to never totally remove the magic of this fantasy world. Up until Deathly Hallows Part 2, there is always at least one sequence featuring Harry smirking as he discovers some new aspect to this realm. Though smaller moments and less frequent than the first few films, they are cautious to retain the awe-striking nature of magic. Cuaron is the first to really establish it as equally dangerous as it is magnificent, but Yates and Mike Newell (Goblet of Fire) make sure to keep some aspect of the wonderful side. This creates an important tonal balance. Magic is scary, but it is also incredible.

The format of each film is also kind of interesting when watching in a marathon. Philosopher's Stone establishes the foundation of the three best friends. Ron and Hermione both contribute greatly to aiding Harry get to the stone and temporarily stop the Dark Lord. In Chamber of Secrets, they remove one of those pieces: Hermione gets petrified, forcing Ron and Harry to make due. Prisoner of Azkaban flips it, taking Ron out of commission when Sirius accidentally bites him while trying to help him. This forces Harry and Hermione to team up sans Ron, who is left recovering in the infirmary. Goblet of Fire then breaks it up more, essentially putting Harry on his own. He does get some assistance from his friends, but it is comparatively minimal (consider that Neville Longbottom does more to help him than Ron does). By the time of Order of the Phoenix, Harry has been empowered to act on his own, but his friends are still there to help him anyway. Additionally, he has the support of many other adults and students.

All in all, for a franchise that spanned eight films over ten years and saw four different directors to tell one story, they are surprisingly consistent in quality. They're not all equal, of course. Chamber of Secrets is a bit of a slog given how much it repeats the beats of the first film. Goblet of Fire, by nature of its plot, suffers a bit from the team of Harry, Hermione, and Ron being a bit disjointed. Deathly Hallows Part 1 also falls victim to studios trying to maximize the profitability of the franchise, splitting one book into two films, with the first part being little other than set up for the second.

Additionally, it's amazing how lucky they got with their casting. Yes, it helps that they cast the majority of the British actors you know, but they cast young child actors at an early age, before anyone would know whether they'd be good or not. They wound up with Daniel Radcliffe, who has become one of the best actors working today (seriously, his super strange acting choices make him supremely fascinating to watch). They also got Emma Watson, who has proven a solid actor in her own right, in addition to being a general powerhouse of a human being offscreen. The weakest link is Rupert Grint, and he isn't even terrible. Consider how many child actors you know that went on to become actually legitimate grown up actors. That they had to gamble on these kids, and had to commit for a decade highlights just how fortunate they were, and how skilled at casting they are.

Given the number of professors and adult characters that would get limited screen time, and that they would provide the emotional stakes late in the story, they also did a great job casting likable actors in key roles. Consider Mad-Eye Moody. Here is a character that we are ultimately supposed to like in some capacity. When you watch Goblet of Fire, he's only in it a little bit. For the majority of his screen appearance, though, it isn't actually Mad-Eye. It's Barty Crouch Jr. under the influence of polyjuice. Yet by the time we reach Deathly Hallows Part 1, we are supposed to like him to some extent, setting up the emotional punch of his off-camera demise. But why is his death actually sad? Well, they cast Brendan Gleeson, of course! Similarly, Sirius Black gets limited screen time, but we are drawn to him immediately. In part it's because he's actually a good dude and the last bit of quasi-family Harry has left, but in another part, it's because it's Gary Oldman. They do this with lower stakes as well. When Sybill Trelawney gets canned by Dolores Umbridge in Order of the Phoenix, it is a surprisingly sad sequence. But why? Who really cares about Professor Trelawney? She had maybe three scenes total up this point, and not even in this same movie! But it's Emma Thompson!

The most perfect casting of all is the late, great Alan Rickman as the most interesting character of the whole series: Severus Snape. For the entire series, Snape is involved in this game of intrigue.  Is he loyal to Dumbledore? Is he actually a Death Eater looking to aid in the return of Voldemort? They constantly give us reasons for both possibilities. It isn't until the very end - after he has died - that we learn the truth. He was involved in a dangerous game as a double agent for Dumbledore, but he also wasn't so much loyal to the headmaster as much as he was operating out of a love for Lilly Potter. He participates for his own personal reasons, which are ultimately exploited by Dumbledore. Rickman was such a beloved actor that to cast him in such an ambiguous role was, as Ron would say, brilliant. Even when Snape was acting in a dubious fashion, many people may have still retained hope that he was actually a good guy, simply because it's Alan Rickman! He plays the duplicity of Snape perfectly, making him one of the most iconic and tragic characters of the franchise.



Sometimes, by nature of the medium, they have to rush things and we miss out on moments that should have been more powerful. At the end of Deathly Hallows Part 2, we see the aftermath of the night's battle. One of the sadder moments features the Weasley family sobbing over the body of one of their members. Which one was it, though? It gets sped by so quickly in the film that it's impossible to tell who it was if you hadn't read the book. It's so dark and the body is slightly blocked by his surrounding family. It looked like one of the twins, but the film makes no specific mention of which one. (Of course, readers of the book know it was Fred.) Though the point remains the same regardless of who it was - a sad scene where one of the Weasley kids has been killed - it is still a bit strange that they don't bother to actually tell us which one it was.

In the same vein was the display of Tonks and Remus's bodies. We learned several films earlier that they were a couple and that Tonks was pregnant. They bring it up very briefly when Harry has a conversation with his deceased parents, dead godfather, and Remus (for some reason - probably so that he can remind the audience that he and Tonks had a kid). But it's such a brief moment that you kind of do lose out on the full emotion of the shot when you see it. It has to hit you later, unless you have a super retentive mind.

Overall, the films are great adaptations. Yes, they skip over a number of big things from the books, but they do a good job figuring out what elements really need to stay, and which ones can be altered or cut altogether for the sake of a streamlined film. Adaptations should do this, rather than adhering strictly to the source material. The films do not serve as replacements for the books, and the Harry Potter films all do a solid job functioning as a representation of them. Die hard fans my harbor ill-will towards the films because of what they left out, but they stand out as among the most well executed and relatively faithful adaptations.

Hopefully, though, they leave it at that. There is The Cursed Child sort-of-sequel, and then this year sees the Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them spin-off, but the Harry Potter story is complete. As great as I think JK Rowling did with the books, and as well done as I think the movie adaptations are, I do really wish creators would stop with the "20 Years Later" epilogue. Whatever writers come up with for the long-term future will never be as interesting or exciting as what fans can and will conjure up in their minds. Harry Potter films especially would have benefitted from lingering a little longer on the immediate aftermath of the battle, and not time jumped to nearly twenty years later.

As an aside, it is worth noting that this is one of those stories that wouldn't have been such a big, elaborate thing if Dumbledore actually bothered to tell Harry anything, rather than leaving cryptic clues, putting him in grave peril, and hoping he, Hermione, and Ron (ok, let's be honest: mostly Harry and Hermione) figure it out. Dumbledore is kind of a jerk that way. It's also kind of painful to watch Philosopher's Stone when you get to the end and he meanly announces Slytherin as the winner with most points accumulated - only to then yank the rug from under their feet and award Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Neville just enough points to make Gryffindor the winner. Why couldn't he have added those points before announcing the point totals and the winners? He was just toying with those Slytherin students. They weren't all bullies like Draco Malfoy...

Rewatching the films made it painfully apparent of how badly Hollywood has been failing to imitate the franchise. You can usually tell the good franchises from the bad. The trouble with so many modern series is that it is blatantly evident when they are simply trying to be "the next Harry Potter." Nothing has captured an audience through intelligent writing, a story that grows with its audience, and with a unique concept and world. Not even the Marvel Cinematic Universe has quite managed to provide such an experience. Harry Potter is worthy of revisiting.

OVERALL REDUCTIVE RATING: Pretty Good
(Rating scale - Terrible..., Pretty Bad, It's Fine, Pretty Good, Incredible!)

Harry Potter Rankings:
8. Goblet of Fire
7. Chamber of Secrets
6. Deathly Hallows Part 1
5. Philosopher's Stone
4. Order of the Phoenix
3. Deathly Hallows Part 2
2. The Half-Blood Prince
1. Prisoner of Azkaban

Shaun of the Dead (2004)

On the surface, Shaun of the Dead is simply a parody of zombie movies (which actually functions quite well as its own zombie movie). If you are a fan of the genre, you can tell that they've put a lot of time into it and that it comes from a great love of those classic George Romero zombie films. There are homages and references to other zombie flicks that aren't necessarily obvious unless you're familiar with those zombie movies and you're really paying attention!

All of the Edgar Wright movies are genre movies on the surface, but what sets his work apart is that they are so much more than just love letters or parodies or full of referential humor. They actually have legitimate substance: an actual, compelling story, realistic character relationships, development. Shaun of the Dead is no exception. The first of Wright's conceptual "Three Flavours Cornetto" trilogy, it tells the story of Shaun - a man going nowhere, stuck with his slacker best friend, ultimately avoiding "growing up." His unwillingness (or perhaps fear) of taking control of his life and "doing something" causes conflict with his flatmate Pete - a man who clearly has his life together. More importantly, it causes conflict with his girlfriend Liz, who does not want to feel stuck anymore, constantly spending nights drinking in the old pub with her boyfriend and his slacker best friend.

Shaun's life is nothing incredible. He appears to co-manage a small electronics store, working primarily with cocky teenagers who mock him constantly. He is at odds with his step father Phillip, who hounds him to remember his mother more. He is also something of a complete screw up, constantly making situations worse through his failure to follow through on promised actions.

This changes, of course, with the outbreak of a zombie plague. Suddenly, he and his best friend Ed find themselves as among the last remaining survivors in a world now overrun by zombies. Together, they come up with a plan to save Shaun's mom and Liz - his now ex-girlfriend - and hole up in the Winchester - the favorite bar of Ed and Shaun that had become a source of contention with Liz.

With this zombie apocalypse as the backdrop, Shaun attempts to take charge. He makes decisions with conviction and takes control of each situation that arises. Of course, his plan ultimately fails and everyone winds up getting killed except for Shaun and Liz. Just before they discover an escape route, Shaun breaks down and acknowledges what Liz and her friends, Phillip, and Pete all essentially told him before: he just can't get it together. Liz provides relief by saying that it's not that he came up with a plan and failed; it's that he tried something at all. Essentially, the difference between this screw up during the zombie apocalypse and all of those seemingly more minor screw ups during normal life is that here, he was trying 100%. He had no reservations; nothing holding him back.  Shaun's development has finally peaked and we see that he has grown up a bit and become a more responsible adult - ironically just in time to be eaten alive by the undead.

Like Hot Fuzz and The World's End, Shaun of the Dead is seemingly designed for re-watching. It exists on multiple levels. You can watch it a dozen times and peel back even more layers. Something Wright and Pegg love to do is play around with double meanings. Often, the first third of a movie is doing one thing. The final third is them doing the same thing again, but in a completely different way.

Take, for example, when Shaun leaves his apartment to run to the store. Immediately after passing the gate, a rogue soccer ball flies in and nearly hits him. Shaun looks at the kid and says, "Hey! You're dead!" It's a cliche threat, but if you've seen the movie before (or are just a really, really attentive movie watcher), you'll understand how accurate that line is. The next time we see the boy, he is a zombie. Or of course, during Pete's explosive speech toward Ed and Shaun. Referring to Ed, he says, "If he wants to live like a wild animal, he can go live in the shed!" And of course, that's exactly what happens. At the end of the movie, Shaun leaves to go to the shed where he keeps a shackled up, zombified Ed.

Then there's Ed's post breakup speech. "You know what we should do tomorrow," he says. "Keep drinkin'! We'll have a Bloody Mary in the morning, have a bite at the King's Head, a couple at the Little Princess, and stagger here to the Winchester for shots." This single line alone lays out the entire development of the movie. It's so obvious now that I can't believe it took me as many views as it did to notice it. Perhaps I was distracted by the relatively cheesy gag of Ed saying, "It's not the end of the world," just before a zombie knocks on the window of the bar.

The very next morning - completely oblivious of the zombie apocalypse - Ed is looking outside and notices a girl in the back yard. They go outside to investigate. Just before she attacks them, Shaun tries to ask her to leave. He notices her name tag says Mary (who you might recognize from the checkout woman in the opening titles). Of course, after she attacks them, they knock her over and she is impaled upon a piece of pipe. Another zombie shows up and the two pull out a shovel and cricket bat in order to bash their brains in - blood squirting everywhere. ("We'll have a Bloody Mary in the morning...")

On the phone with his mom right after, Shaun learns that Phillip has been bitten. They plan to go rescue her from him, but he hasn't quite turned when they get their. Phillip, of course, is Shaun's step dad with whom he has a rocky relationship with. Phillip has always been stern and strict with Shaun: always hounding him to do things, never giving him rewards or trust. In essence, Phillip is sort of like a tyrannical king in the eyes of Shaun. Although he was already bitten off camera, we do see him get bitten again as they try to leave. ("...have a bite at the King's Head.")

And of course, Shaun has to stop by Liz's flat to make sure that she's alright. After a close call, he climbs up the wall (something he tried and failed to do earlier), he finally gets in to rescue her. She is, essentially, his princess. He's come to rescue her (she even has a flat at the top of the apartment building - kind of like a damsel in distress sits in her tower). Her friends David and Dianne are there as well and ultimately decide to tag along. ("...a couple at the Little Princess...")

The final part took me forever to finally pick up as well (I actually didn't notice it initially until I started to talk about the Bloody Mary connection, then it all just clicked). When they finally get to the block the Winchester is on, the street is full of zombies (including an awesome, zombie Tyres from Spaced!). Their plan to get into the Winchester? Act like zombies! They quite literally stagger to the Winchester, only instead of being drunk, they are acting like zombies. Additionally, this is where they hold up. A regular joke throughout was the argument about whether or not the Winchester rifle hanging above the bar were real or not. Turns out that it is and they use it to take out a few zombies. (..."then we'll stagger to the Winchester for some shots.")

Just to touch upon something else: though Liz is essentially Shaun's princess, she is by no means a damsel in distress character throughout the movie. (Wright and Pegg write female characters better than perhaps anyone in Hollywood.) She ultimately makes the decision for her and her friends to go with Shaun. She is engaged in helping them succeed. She is supportive and constructive. And she is often more helpful in dealing with zombies than the other male characters! When Shaun pushed through a fence and attacked by a zombie, it's Liz and Dianne who rush in to help him. They don't even miss a beat. Meanwhile, David stands around watching while Ed just stands there texting. So even though in terms of the story, Liz functions a bit like a cliche "princess" character, she is by no means a damsel in distress nor a half character that only exists as a reward for Shaun. In fact, they only really get back together after working together. Shaun doesn't exactly do anything for Liz to function as a "reward" for his heroic behavior. Yet because the two of them work together, each pulling their individual weight, they both earn the return to relationship status.

Wright and Pegg are very meticulous, organized writers, rarely leaving anything as random. Upon review, I couldn't help but imagine that Shaun and the zombies essentially switch roles. At the beginning, Shaun appears to just be going through the motions of daily life. Even going to the pub with Ed - something they do for fun - seems like just the regular routine. The lack of ambition and enthusiasm for anything he is doing makes him seem like a metaphorical zombie. He only turns his life around after being attacked by literal zombies.

The references to other zombie classics will keep many viewers searching. There are many! They refuse to call them zombies in a reference to Danny Boyle's refusal to do so in 28 Days Later. (They also reference 28 Days Later with a news report at the end that has the anchor saying, "New reports of the virus originating in raged monkeys has been dismissed as bull..." before getting cut off.) There are references to Night of the Living Dead with the radio early in the film referring to a space probe returning to Earth prematurely. The anchorman who says to "remove the head or destroy the brain" is also a reference to the genre-sparking film.  Shaun's place of employ is even a reference to Evil Dead (Bruce Campbell's character works in a similar establishment). He even references that he is in charge today because, "Ash is out." (Ash of course is the name of Campbell's character.) There are a few others as well - in addition to some Star Wars references, a Clockwork Orange reference, and even some inside jokes for "Spaced" fans! ("Fried gold.")

The movie functions very well as a sort of "coming of age" story for mid to late 20 somethings who increasingly seem to be avoiding "growing up" these days. At the same time, it functions pretty well as a zombie movie. And at the same time as that, it functions very well as a comedy!

One of my favorite movies, this is just always going to be my Halloween tradition. This movie has honestly gotten better with every viewing I've ever had of it. I love films that are built on structure and exist on multiple levels. Few do a better job than Edgar Wright.

Reductive Rating: Amazing!
(Scale - Terrible..., Pretty Bad, It's Fine, Pretty Good, Amazing!)

The Host (2006)

The Host is a South Korean monster movie centered around a dysfunctional family slowly, painfully coming together in trying to find their child, who was nabbed by the monster in its initial appearance in Korea. Kang-ho Song plays the slacker dad Park Gang-doo. With his bleach blonde hair and his saggy sweat pants, we get an immediate visual cue that this guy is not a very detail-oriented guy.

Breaking away from typical monster movie norms, director Joon-ho Bong (Mother, Memoirs of Murder - both of which are definitely worth checking out) quickly shows us exactly what we are dealing with. It takes all of 15 minutes before we get our first look at the monster as it attacks onlookers by the Han River. It looks something of a tadpole with giant forelegs, making it a fast and agile creature, often moving almost like an acrobat. At the end of its rampage, it grabs Hyun-seo and takes her with it as it returns to its den.

In the aftermath, people who were there are gathered in a gymnasium for a memorial service. The Park family is reunited in the tragedy of loss. Gang-doo's sister, the bronze medal archer Nam-joo, ignores her family as she walks straight up to the picture of Hyun-seo and breaks down into tears. His brother Nam-il, a former protester and hacker, shows up drunk, immediately blaming his idiot brother. As everyone around them sits in mourning, this family starts fighting, then trying to stop the fight, all while crying. It devolves from a sad, serious scene into an over-the-top comedic one. This perfectly exhibits the general tone of the film. It isn't light hearted, but it is funny. Conversely, it is poignant, but it's not too serious.

Gang-doo eventually gets a phone call from Hyun-seo. She is trapped in a sewer, but she's still alive. The Park family unites and escapes the hospital in order to search the sewers for Hyun-seo. All the while, the South Korean government is being regularly chastised by the Americans for failing to contain the virus and the creature and subsequently intervenes. They take over the hunt by authorizing the release of a chemical called Agent Yellow by the Han River to kill the monster. This sparks protest by angry Koreans who don't want any more chemicals dropped in their river. All plot points - from Nam-joo's archery to Nam-ils past as a rebellious college kid to Gang-doo's desperate rescue attempt for his daughter to the Korean/American stand off - converges at the end. The monster stuffs its mouth with Hyun-seo and another young child captured and heads off to the shore where protesters are butting heads with police as they move a device that will release the Agent Yellow.

The film is not anti-American, but it does have rather strong criticisms of the United States. It's easy to spot the sentiment here, where they make it seem as though the US is lying to get hands-on with a South Korean problem, but the movie isn't entirely anti-American. Indeed, during the first attack, they show a young American soldier on leave risking his life to help people being chased by the monster. It's almost to say that Americans are good people, but the government is shady and manipulative (something probably not that hard to argue, actually). In this way, it felt totally fair.

If you're not familiar with Kang-ho Song, you should check out his work. One of the most entertaining actors on Earth.

Though it breaks away from a lot of typical monster movie tropes and cliches (which is refreshing), it does hold on to one: the introduction scene being based on a real event. As unbelievable as that opening scene is (which features Scott Wilson as the crazy American scientist - Wilson probably best known at this point for his role as Hershel on The Walking Dead), it actually happened. There really was an American scientist who got annoyed that his chemical bottles had dust on them and thus dumped them in the Han River!  With an intro scene based on a real, controversial event and with its criticisms of American policy, it shares a bed with other classic monster movies like Ishiro Honda's masterpiece Gojira. But it does change up the formula in a lot of ways.

It has a unique charm to it, being both incredibly suspenseful and very funny. Most of the story involves this dysfunctional family coming together for a singular purpose. The Host is pretty much Little Miss Sunshine meets Jaws. It depicts a smaller scale version of the monster attack, certainly done better than the way they tried to do the "small scale view" with Cloverfield. This monster movie mixes the personal feel with the wider scope.

The movie is incredibly well acted, with each character making instantly likable characters who you root for the entire film. The character development flows perfectly as we watch Gang-doo slowly evolve into responsible adult and parent, but it took time. He was still screwing things up a long way - in one instance, his screw up costs a life. But he eventually does get his act together. Meanwhile, his brother Nam-il who constantly insults his brother for screwing up nearly blows everything by making a huge mistake himself. By the end, everyone is on equal footing.

In what is a rather surprising twist, they ultimately fail. They cannot save Hyun-seo in time. But Hyun-seo had been able to take care of and save another kid, Se-joo. In this sense, Hyun-seo was the only one who didn't screw things up. This was the final thing pushing Gang-doo into "growing up." Though he couldn't save his own daughter, he saw that she saved this other young boy. Gang-doo winds up adopting the boy and caring for him as his daughter did, and as he knows he should have always done for his daughter.

The final scene shows how far we've come as it we see Gang-doo looking out of the food shack, only this time, he is not the slacker screw-up he was during the opening shots. Instead of lazily watching out, looking bored, he has his rifle by his side and he is staring down at the river, ever vigilante should something else rise up to the shore. Gone is his bleach blonde hair and baggy sweat pants. For the first time, he is dressed like a real adult, and when we see him feed Se-joo, we know that now he finally is.

REDUCTIVE RATING: Amazing!
(Rating Scale - Terrible..., Pretty Bad, It's Fine, Pretty Good, Amazing!)