It all happened so fast. First they were at Shell Cottage. Then Gringotts. Then Hogsmede. Then home...I mean Hogwarts. First I was 11 and watching the first film of a book series I already loved. Then there was high school. And college. And now, I can officially say that my childhood has ended. You may think this is a dramatic statement, over the top and ridiculous, but it's true.
Harry Potter shaped a generation of kids who were and are just like me, though Ms. Rowling's safe pages always made me feel like the Chosen One. Ten plus years of anxiously waiting, reading, watching, listening and immersing have led to the moment I experienced less than three hours ago. And it all just happened so fast. I guess that's what life's all about.
Now, in terms of the final film, it lived up to the high standards that the hype and the media had set before it. I pretty much didn't stop crying from the moment the trio stepped foot in Hogwarts until the beautifully orchestrated epilogue scene.
I only have two complaints. You'd probably like me to overlook these, but even films that I have the strongest connection to don't go without some scrutiny.
In fact, I've already mentioned my first qualm — the film's length. It was the shortest film of the eight and though critics have praised it for its brevity, I found that to be a small crack in the ever-powerful Elder Wand that was this film. Deaths of characters like Fred Weasley, Lupin and Tonks were merely shown in shots of them lying on the ground. I found myself in tears, not because of the scene that was before me, but because of memories of these characters and of the beautiful words J.K. offered them on the page. These characters deserved at least a short scene before giving up their lives for the forces of good.
My second complaint lies with the big bad himself, Mr. Lord Voldemort. In the past, Ralph Fiennes' portrayal of the Dark Lord has seemed spot on, but in this installment, his awkward shouts, strange "bro hug" with Draco and uncomfortable school-picture-day-smiles were just plain weird. You might say, 'hey! He's under a lot of stress as the horcruxes continue to be destroyed!' But his behavior was something beyond that. It validated those obnoxious immature fans that like to laugh at inappropriate times, mostly because his actions were comical. So I'm not sure exactly whose Polyjuice Potion you were sniffing in between shots Mr. Fiennes, but I'd get a better dealer next time.
Those points being made, neither of my complaints in any way altered how I felt about the film. Even though I'm incredibly picky, it would have been really hard for me to not leave that film without a sense of closure. And while my dark Bellatrix Lestrange eye makeup came trickling down my face like the veins on the top of my master's head, I know it isn't over. None of those fans that grew up with Harry will ever let him die, just like Neveille refused to let his spirit diminish with Harry's seemingly lifeless body. We haven't tirelessly waited at bookstores and movie theaters for nothing. There isn't a theme park for nothing. Potter products aren't available all over the world for nothing. It all exists because of an amazing story. One that deserves to live on forever.
In the words of Albus Dumbledore, "Just because it's in your head doesn't mean it's not real."
Mischief Managed.
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