Harry Potter and the Prisoner of AzkabanGrowing up is difficult for any adolescent; but growing up with the weight of a mysterious legacy, orphaned and left in the "care" of ineffectual guardians, not to mention being harried by grim wolves, wraith-like dementors, and even bullies can make the ordeal intolerable. At the cusp of maturity, children begin to realize the terrifying emotions surging through them, with a force which is rarely able to be controlled with ease. The transformation from child to teenager is rarely a quiet one.
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Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban concerns the now-teenage wizard, Harry Potter (Daniel Radcliffe) entering his third year at Hogwarts, the secretive academy for apprentice sorcerers. His exodus from his homestay with his extended family is a turbulent one; unlike his previous departure, which was one of escape, Harry storms out after unleashing his anger not only at the way which he is treated, but namely his beloved, late parents in their memory. Harry's outburst seems uncharacteristic, when we compare it with the bright and beaming lad of the other films, but it is no less a reflection of him. This is not a foreshadow of a "darkness" lurking within the destined child, but simply the normal frustrations which can overtake anyone whose patience is pressed beyond breaking, more so for one unaccustomed to coping with these feelings. Among these feelings of sorrow and rage is a sense of depression and melancholy. Harry is sorrowed when he cannot join the other students on their trip to Hogsmeade, and finds some comfort talking about his feelings with the newest instructor in the Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Lupin (David Thewlis). Lupin and Harry initially meet on a train, where the professor saves Harry from an assault by an indifferent and destructive dementor, a spectral phantom which emits an aura of cold, and sucks away at the very soul of any who stand in its way. For reasons I still question, these dementors are invited to guard Hogwarts, as the escaped convict from Azkaban--Sirius Black (Gary Oldman)--is rumored to be making his way there to kill Harry Potter. Lupin does what no other professor at Hogwarts has done for Harry: he sympathizes with him, and does not judge him for his feelings. Yes, Headmaster Dumbledore (Michael Gambon) has always been an advocate for Harry and his good-natured soul, but Lupin seems to really understand the grip of very human darkness which comes simply by growing up even better. He also prepares Harry to face his enemies with a legitimate defense--unlike his predecessors--one which bolsters his heart and helps him to understand his emotions more fully. Harry Potter has become more aloof and despondent--but not dour--in this film, and is less apt to tolerate being treated like a kicked dog anymore. There is nary an ounce of reserve when he stands up to his nemesis, Draco Malfoy (Tom Felton), or when he is caught skulking the dark halls at night by Severus Snape (Alan Rickman). He seems to understand that while he wishes to "do good", sometimes even mischief must be the kind of thing every teenager gets into, something they practice in the dark when they're pretending to sleep, or sneaking out after hours--just to go where he's not supposed to go. And Harry is not alone in the discovery of unfamiliar feelings; there appears to be a budding--if rocky--romance between his friends, Hermione Granger (Emma Watson) and Ron Weasley (Rupert Grint), hinted at on their snowy visit to Hogsmeade.
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban has the unfortunate distinction of being the lowest grossing entry in the series; and--something which is surprisingly typical--it also bears the distinction of being one of the most critically acclaimed as well. Not to sound arrogant, but I suspect that this is due in part to the emotions running deep through this entry, and that it is hard for audiences accustomed to flying cars and house elves to acknowledge the pain which is in all of us when we suffer from grief, anger, frustration, and more. The Harry Potter films have already established themselves as a kind of escapism--and that's fine--but children can appreciate that when life becomes hard, sometimes you want to scream and cry, and it's not wrong to do so. It does require control and care to manage one's emotions; Lupin's training regarding the Patronus Charm is a metaphor for this. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban is not so depressing as to be an inappropriate entry, but it does acknowledge the grief and consequences which come with death in a mature way, and the significance of trust and friendship. It was surely terrible enough that Harry's parents were murdered by Voldemort, but to discover that they were betrayed by a close friend of theirs is what really drives the fury within Harry. For someone who has so little in the way of family who values him--but has dear friends--this concept is an abomination to the young wizard. When Hagrin (Robbie Coltrane)--now a professor in his own right--invites the students to befriend the proud hippogriff, Buckbeak, a jealous tirade by Malfoy results in him being attacked by the creature, an action which results in a death sentence for Buckbeak. Similarly, Sirius Black had been imprisoned within Azkaban, only to break free, ostensibly to seek out Harry Potter. Even Harry's isolation at Hogwarts as his classmates journey to Hogsmeade is a kind of imprisonment, and all of these examples reflect a state of feeling trapped and caged, the pervading sense that Harry experiences. The dementors are representations of depression, spreading coldness and bleakness wherever they go; their occupying of Harry's mind during the annual Quidditch match results in unfortunate consequences. Lupin's presentation of the "boggart"--a creature which takes the form of what you fear the most--to the children is meant to be an actual defense against the dark arts, and makes it clear that everyone has something they are terrified to face. It is a dangerous and scary time for Harry Potter, just as it is a dangerous and scary time for any child taking his or her first steps into maturity, and forced to deal with the aftermath. But Harry faces his fears--as we must--and can flourish from the experience, growing pains and all.
Recommended for: Fans of, unsurprisingly, the Harry Potter stories and films, but also for people who want a fantasy story which is unafraid to embrace that transitional period between childhood and the teen years, which can be so fraught with peril and horror, even without supernatural monsters like "grims" and werewolves. It is an insightful and introspective fantasy film for the family.
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban has the unfortunate distinction of being the lowest grossing entry in the series; and--something which is surprisingly typical--it also bears the distinction of being one of the most critically acclaimed as well. Not to sound arrogant, but I suspect that this is due in part to the emotions running deep through this entry, and that it is hard for audiences accustomed to flying cars and house elves to acknowledge the pain which is in all of us when we suffer from grief, anger, frustration, and more. The Harry Potter films have already established themselves as a kind of escapism--and that's fine--but children can appreciate that when life becomes hard, sometimes you want to scream and cry, and it's not wrong to do so. It does require control and care to manage one's emotions; Lupin's training regarding the Patronus Charm is a metaphor for this. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban is not so depressing as to be an inappropriate entry, but it does acknowledge the grief and consequences which come with death in a mature way, and the significance of trust and friendship. It was surely terrible enough that Harry's parents were murdered by Voldemort, but to discover that they were betrayed by a close friend of theirs is what really drives the fury within Harry. For someone who has so little in the way of family who values him--but has dear friends--this concept is an abomination to the young wizard. When Hagrin (Robbie Coltrane)--now a professor in his own right--invites the students to befriend the proud hippogriff, Buckbeak, a jealous tirade by Malfoy results in him being attacked by the creature, an action which results in a death sentence for Buckbeak. Similarly, Sirius Black had been imprisoned within Azkaban, only to break free, ostensibly to seek out Harry Potter. Even Harry's isolation at Hogwarts as his classmates journey to Hogsmeade is a kind of imprisonment, and all of these examples reflect a state of feeling trapped and caged, the pervading sense that Harry experiences. The dementors are representations of depression, spreading coldness and bleakness wherever they go; their occupying of Harry's mind during the annual Quidditch match results in unfortunate consequences. Lupin's presentation of the "boggart"--a creature which takes the form of what you fear the most--to the children is meant to be an actual defense against the dark arts, and makes it clear that everyone has something they are terrified to face. It is a dangerous and scary time for Harry Potter, just as it is a dangerous and scary time for any child taking his or her first steps into maturity, and forced to deal with the aftermath. But Harry faces his fears--as we must--and can flourish from the experience, growing pains and all.
Recommended for: Fans of, unsurprisingly, the Harry Potter stories and films, but also for people who want a fantasy story which is unafraid to embrace that transitional period between childhood and the teen years, which can be so fraught with peril and horror, even without supernatural monsters like "grims" and werewolves. It is an insightful and introspective fantasy film for the family.