Director: Gary Ross
Writer(s): Gary Ross, Suzanne Collins, Billy Ray
Starring: Jennifer Lawrence, Josh Hutcherson, Woody Harrelson
The Hunger Games: Catching Fire (2013)
Director: Francis Lawrence
Writer(s): Simon Beaufoy, Michael deBruyn
Starring: Jennifer Lawrence, Josh Hutcherson, Donald Sutherland
The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 1 (2014)
Director: Francis Lawrence
Writer(s): Peter Craig, Danny Strong
Starring: Jennifer Lawrence, Josh Hutcherson, Julianne Moore
The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 2 (2015)
Director: Francis Lawrence
Writer(s): Peter Craig, Danny Strong
Starring: Jennifer Lawrence, Josh Hutcherson, Julianne Moore
The Hunger Games is the first full movie franchise I've seen solely from the perspective of an unbiased adult viewer. I did not grow up with these movies. I have not read the books. Rather, I, like most of the movie-going public, found myself startled; what was this strange book and movie series sweeping the national consciousness? I felt towards The Hunger Games the same emotions most 20-30 year olds felt towards Harry Potter, Pokémon, and Spongebob Squarepants when I was growing up: confusion as to how the franchise got popular. Seriously, a franchise about kids killing each other in a death arena? Have we been transported back to ancient Rome? But, one winter evening back in January 2013, I ordered the film on pay per view, took a watch, and fell in love with one of the finest teen blockbuster movies that's come out in years. The Hunger Games is exactly what a blockbuster movie should be: a well crafted, richly plotted, superbly directed, competently acted film that appeals to all viewers mature enough to understand its plot.
Naturally, I was almost excited as everyone else to see the next movie. Unfortunately, Catching Fire left a bad taste in my mouth, ending on a plot point so rushed and convoluted as to leave me wanting to throw my popcorn at the screen. After thinking over the film for a few hours more, I figured my disappointment was just a fluke: the producers had to rush the pacing in order to keep the franchise moving. Plus, Catching Fire is based on a book, and plenty of children's book series end on massive cliffhangers. Unfazed, I went to see Mockingjay Part 1 with fresh eyes; unfortunately, the movie was little more than set-up for a second movie. That said, the set-up was far from bad, working on building character and establishing themes; the final movie had plenty of potential. Last month, I watched Mockingjay Part 2.
It's not good. Not at all.
I knew I needed to review Mockingjay Part 2 so to fully express my fury at what the film is, represents, and implies, but I was unsure of the best way to explain why the film is so flawed. Thus, it became apparent that I needed to review the entire franchise in one go, emphasizing what made the first movie so excellent and what made the sequels so disappointing, or, as in the case of Mockingjay Part 2, so bad. This extended review will go through each of the movies, exploring the best elements of each and exploring what I see as some of the problems in all of them. Thus, let's cut to the chase and discuss:
1. The Hunger Games - AKA The Good One
There is a direct correlation between the amount of color in the Hunger Games' movies and the quality of the films: the more color, the better the film. This is not to say The Hunger Games is A Troll in Central Park. Indeed, every frame has somewhat of a grey sheen to it. But, in spite of this bleaching effect, each character, shot, setting, plot point, and musical cue in The Hunger Games has more flavor than those found in any of the other films. It is an undeniably grim story, but it's not lacking in pathos. It is relentlessly violent, but it's not humorless. It is unabashedly in one's face with its themes, but it does not lack subtlety. The cast is dynamic, the set pieces varied, the world atmospheric: the entire film has more punch than the others. It's a spectacularly crafted movie.
Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence) is a 16-year-old girl living in one of the poorest district of Panem, a dystopian association of countries unified under a dictatorial Capitol. To keep the districts in line, the Capitol annually forces two children of each district to kill each other in a battle royale (pun intended) called the Hunger Games. When Katniss's younger sister is surprisingly selected in her first year of eligibility, Katniss steps in and takes her place. The socially distant Katniss unwillingly plays to the crowd, who sadistically enjoy the games as most average Americans enjoy American football. Katniss must also deal with a variety of side characters whom, for the most part, she'd rather not spend her time with: the drunken former champion from her district, Haymitch Abernathy (Woody Harrelson), the airheaded Capitolist Effie Trinket (Elizabeth Banks), the resourceful but youthful Rue (Amandla Stenberg), and her districtmate and admirer, Peeta Mellark (Josh Hutcherson). Ultimately, Katniss wins the Games along with Peeta, at the cost of Rue's life and facing the true horrors of a dystopian society.
Now, most reviewers claim that the backbone of The Hunger Games is Jennifer Lawrence's performance as Katniss Everdeen. I disagree. I'll discuss the many merits of Katniss later on, but the real strength of the film is the world-building. The environment of the Hunger Games is expansive, with each district, even the Games themselves, having its own culture. District 12 is a mining region dominated by grey shading and almost lifeless forests. The clothes are faded and tattered; the buildings are ramshackle; the characters are mostly impersonal and cold. Contrast this with the Capitol, a region of garish fashions, horrendously askew colors, and Olympics-level theatrics. Oddly enough, the games is the one region of the world in which some sort of cultural balance is achieved, in which all the citizens are made equal. Yet even this world is fraught, as the twisted game makers can generate monsters and new weapons with which to horrify the players. Best of all, The Hunger Games gradually introduces each set-piece in a way as to feel organic. Most of District 12 is shown in broad panning shots, indicating expanse and emptiness. The Capitol uses more tracking shots, accenting the hustle and bustle of urban life. The Games emphasize shaky cam, replicating the blurred vision many soldiers experience in the fog of war. Everything is intentional.
Admirable too is The Hunger Games' immaculate editing and pacing. No scene feels too long or too short. Each character is developed just enough to make a connection with the audience but short enough so as not to distract the viewer's attention from the central character: Katniss. The film handles exposition with a tact I haven't seen in a movie since Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. The Hunger Games must explain a great deal (after all, it is the first film in the franchise), from the literally poisonous politics of the Capitol, to the strategies for winning the Games, to the backstories of the characters. Though a text crawl establishes the base premise of the film, the rest of the exposition is story-driven. Granted, doing this should be story-telling 101, but most film franchises nowadays are content to present exposition dumps without establishing good characters (X-Men, The Amazing Spiderman, Divergent). Thus, The Hunger Games were extremely refreshing when they came out.
The cast is spectacular. Josh Hutcherson might have been a bad child actor whose agent couldn't choose a script for his life (Bridge to Terabithia, Journey to the Center of the Earth, Zathura, RV), but he certainly matured into a competent actor; his Peeta Mellark is clearly unprepared for the games on a physical and emotional level, but he is more than capable of playing to the camera. Donald Sutherland gives a nice subdued performance as the villainous President Snow, wielding power with effortless dignity. Amandla Stenberg is a good child actress, making a highly believable Rue. My personal favorite supporting cast members are Isabelle Fuhrman and Alexander Ludwig as Clove and Cato, the "career" fighters and primary villains. The two play up the sadism to a level just bordering on over-the-top. One senses that the characters come from a culture completely de-sensitized to violence. Murder has no consequence. It's only when their own lives are on the line that they actually show their humanity, showing the desperation of children. The two even have a subtle lethality to their partnership: Clove being silent and detached, Cato being over-confident and unhinged. Indeed, nearly all of the characters serve as much purpose as symbols and ideas as they do characters. One's emotional investment translates into intellectual engagement.
The same principle clearly applies to Katniss. I'm not sure how many people realize just how important The Hunger Games was in launching Jennifer Lawrence's career. Certainly, she had some fans from her performance as Mystique in X-Men: First Class, but The Hunger Games made her a superstar. Watching her performance, one sees the reason why. Katniss isn't just a "strong female character," in the vein of Emily Blunt's character in Edge of Tomorrow or Lois Lane in Superman; she's actually socially aloof and almost sociopathic. The only emotional connection she has with anyone is between she and her sister; she keeps everyone else, from Peeta, to Haymitch, to her own mother, at a distance. Even her clear love interest, Gale, is kept an arm's length away. It's clear Katniss's self-separation is her coping mechanism for the realities of mining district life, in which every day hides a new mine collapse, a new famine, a new pandemic. In the actual games, Katniss's hardened lifestyle is put to the test. Now, Katniss must exude social confidence so as to appeal to the crowd while maintaining her independence and innate defiance. Jennifer Lawrence plays all of these notes perfectly with a focused performance that is neither too aloof nor too engaged. Its intensity works in spades throughout the franchise, but nowhere is it more effective than this film.
Most importantly, the narrative structure of The Hunger Games is complete and cohesive. Every character and event has a purpose. Consider Haymitch - an alcoholic former champion who cares little for his district-mates; his fate, that of a political manipulator drenched in debauchery, is an eerie premonition of what Katniss and Peeta could become. After all, Haymitch shares the detached tone of Katniss and the social acumen of Peeta. Rue is clearly an analogue for Katniss's sister, Primrose: her death in the games suggests Primrose's death. With her gone, Katniss must find a new reason to win the games, be it mere self-preservation or, as is equally the case, the need to protect someone or something else. Will she protect Peeta? Will she protect personal autonomy? Both? The lamentable fates of each of the other fighters links clearly to his/her hamartia. The snarky Glimmer ends up stung to death by hallucinogenic tracker-jacker venom, trapping her in her own illusions of grandeur. The brutal violence of Thresh comes to an end when mutant dogs rend him to pieces. Clove's sadism comes to an agonizing end when Thresh repeatedly smashes her head against a steel wall. Cato, ever the arrogant competitor, is mutilated so badly that he faces the most pitiful of deaths: mercy-killing. Nothing is gratuitous; everything fits into a greater narrative.
Is The Hunger Games a perfect movie? No. Some of the characters are little more than stereotypes, such as the disposable Cinna and the air-headed Effie. The acting occasionally slips into melodrama. The love triangle between Katniss, Peeta, and Gale isn't particularly effective. The shaky cam in the Katniss v. Clove battle is distracting as opposed to thematically engaging, as it is in previous scenes. That said, I'm not sure what more I could demand of the movie. After all, it's a movie meant for teenagers, not adults. It's not supposed to be Shakespearean in its writing or Kubrick-ian in its cinematography. It's meant to be a story with enough allusions and deeper ideas to keep teens enthralled and adults engaged. The Hunger Games does just that, and I can't ask for anything more.
When I first left the theatre after seeing Catching Fire, I was practically spitting venom. I loathed the ending, and I mean, loathed the ending. Catching Fire felt like the Halo 2 of movie endings: a bitter cliffhanger offering neither resolution nor catharsis. I almost hated the whole movie because of it. That said, my opinion of the film has mellowed after two years. Most contemporary critics called Catching Fire a better movie than The Hunger Games; I disagree to this day, but I do recognize the many admirable qualities Catching Fire has. It's a film with likable characters, symbolically pertinent set pieces, extraordinary action sequences, and higher stakes than the first film: pretty much everything one would want in a sequel to The Hunger Games. Even the ending, as unsatisfying as it was and still is, wasn't as bad as I originally thought it was. So, how does Catching Fire hold up? Well, let's take a look.
Katniss and Peeta have both won the 74th annual Hunger Games, and in doing so, have brought tremendous hope to the people of Panem by refusing to kill each other. Indeed, as a result of their actions, mild rebellions have popped up in the poorer districts, particularly District 11, Rue's home. To crush the spirits of the rebellion, President Snow employs a special tradition for the third Quarter Quell/75th Hunger Games: inviting the old tributes back to the games for a tournament of champions. Katniss and Peeta try to fake a marriage and pregnancy in order to get out of the games, but their ruse fails, only serving to infuriate Katniss's other love interest, Gale Hawthorne (Liam Hemsworth). Katniss and Peeta thus enter a new round of games, but this time, they have a larger cohort of allies: the heartthrob Finnick Odair (Sam Claflin), the murderous Johanna Mason (Jena Malone), the frail but loving Mags Flanagan (Lyn Cohen), and the techies Beetee (Jeffrey Wright) and Wiress (Amanda Plummer). Will President Snow manage to crush our heroes' spirits and the hopes of the rebellion? Well, there are two more movies, so the answer should be obvious.
Most critics prefer Catching Fire over the original Hunger Games. Heck, most of my friends prefer Catching Fire over the original Hunger Games. Why? I think the new characters are largely responsible. Most of the characters in the original Hunger Games function as plot devices, foils, and symbols rather than as human beings. Now, this is not to say using characters in this way is inherently wrong: indeed, some of the greatest movies of all time (La Dolce Vita) use characters as modes of relating ideas rather than developing them as persons. But such an approach to character writing is often cold and less than engaging: I'll elaborate upon this should I someday review Roma, Citta Aperta. The new Tributes in Catching Fire have very rich personalities and backstories. My personal favorite would probably be Johanna, a classist and psychopath who won her first Hunger Games by feigning timidity before ruthlessly murdering the last few competitors. Those killings practically released all her inhibitions, as she makes and seemingly breaks alliances with deliciously sinister fervor. While I never connected with the friendly and motherly Mags on a personal level, I cannot deny that her death scene was beautifully shot and emotionally affecting for those who liked the character.
Yet the character most people seem to love is Finnick Odair. I don't like him. Here's why.
Love for Finnick seems to come from a misbegotten love of the "bad boy with the heart of gold," one of the most malignant stereotypes of modern media, right up there with the "strong female character who lacks any genuine strength." He's snarky, overconfident, and wears revealing clothing, but he loves Mags like a mother and is really just participating in the games so to free his true love from the clutches of the evil Capitol. Now, most people who protest the use of "bad boys with hearts of gold" trope dislike the characters for their "bad" elements: no matter their good intentions, nothing warrants the initial moral misconduct. But, as I see it, it's the "heart of gold" that ruins Finnick as a character. The Hunger Games are supposed to be a taxing experience. Victory and defeat are equally soul-draining: it's just a matter of whether the soul leaves the body in the physical or the spiritual sense. Yet, in spite of this, Finnick is a practically perfect Prince Charming. He flirts with danger without any consequence, since he's that much better a fighter than everyone else. He shrugs off the worst of the Capitol's tricks with his spirit very much intact. Even the death of Mags merely manages to make him cry rather than break him completely. When the hero is this invulnerable, his odyssey has no real stakes. Instead of being a truly developed character, Finnick services as little more than a generic trope and teenage girl eye-candy.
So, if I'm not a huge fan of the characters, what part of Catching Fire do I like better than The Hunger Games? The action scenes. The Hunger Games had some of the most symbolically effective and engaging combat in any young adult film I've ever seen, using shaky cam for a genuinely artistic purpose rather than cheap theatrics. But I'd be lying if I said The Hunger Games didn't occasionally abuse its trump card. Catching Fire is not nearly so reliant on shaky cam, using crane shots and extended tracking shots to show off combat. The opening fight scene at the Games' central hub is especially effective. The other effects in the movie are also visually fascinating. Mags' death scene and sacrifice is particularly beautiful in its execution; I will not say many good things about Francis Lawrence in the two reviews to come, but I will praise him for this truly effective scene. Not to mention, the already great set design is turned up to 11. There's no doubt about it: Catching Fire looks great.
But, much like a shiny coat of new paint on a car or the graphics card on the latest Call of Duty game, no amount of visual improvements can save a flawed interior. For Catching Fire, that flawed interior is the writing. Few characters share any verbal chemistry beyond bare bones relationships. Most of the dialogue is extremely weak, particularly the romantic tension between Katniss, Peeta, and Gale. While the original Hunger Games made it very clear that Katniss's affection for Peeta was limited to keeping both him and herself alive, keeping Gale as the actual love interest, Catching Fire develops one of the most groan-inducing love triangles in teen fiction. Fortunately, the writers of Catching Fire manage to keep moping and complaining out of the script... at least for this movie. However, let it be known that Catching Fire and not The Hunger Games directly inspired some of the worst elements of the Mockingjay films.
The flaws go beyond the sentence by sentence issues. The plot itself is a hackneyed mechanism for getting Katniss and Peeta back into the games. Though some of the story ideas, such as Katniss's feigning pregnancy to get out of the games, are quite clever, they're never utilized to their fullest. The pathological manipulation of the audience is instantly dropped once the characters enter the games. Furthermore, the general lack of interesting in-game villains keeps the stakes at a minimum. The only real threats come from the ever unpredictable Johanna and President Snow's game design; though they're semi-effective short-term threats, they only serve the purpose of enhancing brief action sequences rather than real character development. Unlike the first film, nothing is deliberate; it's just a rough transcription of the book onto film that pays no heed to developing a self-contained and consistent narrative.
Which brings me to the film's "brilliant" ending... Catching Fire ends on a plot twist, revealing that the allegedly destroyed District 13 has been operating in secret to take down the Capitol and free the districts. Most critics loved the unexpected turn, putting it on par with The Empire Strikes Back's "No, I am your father" or The Usual Suspect's "the greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist." However, those twists work because there's plenty of clues hinting to them throughout the movie. Once one knows the twist, one can appreciate the subtleties of the preceding details all the more. Catching Fire offers no clues. Rather, the reveal of District 13 comes practically out of nowhere, being hardly mentioned in the previous two films whatsoever. The only time I actually remembered them was from the opening text crawl of the first movie. What's even more infuriating is that Suzanne Collins apparently had new characters who introduced the idea of District 13 still being around in the original Catching Fire book; the Catching Fire film drops this point entirely: a simple fix gone kaput. Worst of all, the reveal is horrendously paced, giving a mere three minutes of screen time to an entirely new plot point that completely changes the tone of the series. The audience barely has time to process the twist before the film abruptly ends. Instead of being interested in a new direction for the series and appreciating the increased stakes of the franchise, the audience is left bewildered and full of questions. Where has District 13 hidden? Who are these people? What was their function before their extermination? How did they acquire the weaponry to destroy the Hunger Games center? How did they communicate with the Tributes? Indeed, there are so many questions left at the end of this movie that it takes an entire movie for The Hunger Games franchise to finally re-center itself.
Why is the writing this bad? Well, the writing teams of The Hunger Games and Catching Fire are completely different. Not one of the original writers of The Hunger Games returned for Catching Fire. The worst of these losses is that of Suzanne Collins - The Hunger Games' actual writer. The later writing teams lacked the direction of the original novelist, allowing for the theming and narrative to have duller impacts. Perhaps more important is the shift in the structure of the writing team. The first film's director, Gary Ross, was one of the writers, giving him a clearer sense of the material he had to direct. The new director of The Hunger Games films, Francis Lawrence, is not a member of the writing team at all. This disconnect leads to an overall lack of focus for the entire movie. Not to mention, the quality between the two directors is tremendous: Lawrence released the critical flops Constantine and I Am Legend, Ross released the critical darlings Pleasantville and Seabiscuit. The step down is palpable.
While Catching Fire is far from a bad movie - the nice action scenes and characters do pick up a great deal of the narrative slack - it is a significant comedown from the adrenaline and intellectual highs of the first movie. It's watchable, but I could only ever call it better than average. Ultimately, the high production values, rather than anything else, end up as the movie's saving grace. The film looks spectacular, and there are plenty of memorable visuals. However, those visuals don't mean anything within either a self-contained or expansive franchise narrative. Throw in an irritating, poorly paced ending, and Catching Fire was my first turn-off to The Hunger Games franchise.
4. Mockingjay Part 2 - AKA the Soulless One
Mockingjay Part 2 takes all of the bad elements from the previous two Hunger Games sequels and puts them on full display. The stakes are nonexistent. The pace is horrendous. The acting is lifeless. The themes are trite. The action scenes are preposterous. The ending is an insult. Making things worse: the film tries everything in its power to defile all the elements that made the first film great. It's full of hollow action scenes, pretentious dialogue, and pointless character deaths. It's the DC's Countdown to Final Crisis, the Marvel's Ultimatum of movie finales: a death-fetishizing mess of a movie with a barely structured plot and an ending no less insulting than a punch to the genitals.
Katniss and the rest of District 13 lament the fact that Peeta's re-conditioning after his being brainwashed is more difficult than originally planned. Furious, Katniss decides to go after President Snow and personally assassinate him, hiding aboard a supply transport to arrive at the now war-torn Capitol. Coin sends a squad of soldiers to help Katniss once she learns it is impossible to call her back; these soldiers include Gale, Finnick, Cressida, Boggs, and a highly unpredictable Peeta. Using a map known as a "Holo," Katniss and her allies must traverse a series of booby traps in order to get to the Capitol, costing the lives of everyone but the few characters about whom we actually give a damn. After arriving at the Capitol, bombs go off, killing hundreds of Capitol children. Everyone assumes President Snow murdered his own people in an act of desperation. However, once President Coin reveals that she intends to set up a final "Hunger Games" to satisfy the rebellious districts, this time with the Capitol's children up on the screen, Katniss realizes the ugly truth and must make a choice that will determine the fate of Panem.
Let's start with the plot. Mockingjay Part 2 has a lot riding on it: after all, we had an entire previous movie building up the stakes of this movie. In the slightest respect, Mockingjay Part 2 provides a modicum of risk to the story. The addition of the unstable Peeta to the military group makes the mission a bit more interesting. Indeed, in some points, we do see Peeta act in a treasonous fashion, pitting the interests of Katniss (and the audience) against those of District 13. However, whatever good this does is insignificant compared to the actual mission itself. All the obstacles between our heroes and President Snow are generic explosions, Stormtrooper clones, and CGI gobbledegook. Even worse, these obstacles play out like licensed video game levels: I can practically see "Press X to shoot, hold L1 to aim" on the sides of the screen.
This pacing would be terrible enough on its own, but its effect is made even worse considering the slipshod characterization found in Mockingjay Part 2. The film tries so hard to bare-bones characterize each one of the redshirts in Katniss's team; no sooner do we learn the slightest bit of information about these characters than do they die. We learn Lt. Jackson has legitimate trust issues: dead in the next five minutes. We learn that the Leeg twins love each other: dead in the next two minutes. We learn Boggs doesn't like President Coin very much: revealed as he is bleeding out. The film wastes precious time that could be spent on characters we actually do like on cannon fodder we expect to die. We know Katniss, Peeta, and Gale are going to live, so we don't give a damn when anyone else dies, rendering the obstacles completely useless. The mission has zero dramatic tension, and it's the bulk of the film.
Then again, even if the film provided genuinely interesting characters and had enough time to develop them, we would want them to die anyways: the acting is terrible! Everyone in District 13 acts like a lifeless drone. When Katniss acted in this way in the first movie, it had purpose; her asocial tendencies both showed the harsh nature of District 12 life and made Katniss more vulnerable in the Games and, by extension, more sympathetic. Here, it just feels as if these characters are dull redshirts: the only meaning they could ever have is accenting the threat level of some new obstacle. Julianne Moore's ice cold performance as President Coin, while threatening in the previous movie, is oddly boring in this movie: did something happen overnight to make her lose her acting mojo? The ordinarily excellent performance of Donald Sutherland as President Snow switches from off-puttingly succinct and lethal to campy and cartoonish. Liam Hemsworth's facial expressions are restricted to immature glares, Josh Hutcherson's to mournful puppy dog eyes. Even Jennifer Lawrence is terrible in this movie. While her previous performances had an edge, this one seems entirely phoned in. Thus, when Katniss has a huge emotional breakdown at the end of the film, the result isn't moving, but laughable. The most accurate parallel to the acting of Mockingjay Part 2 is Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, widely considered to be one of the worst movie sequels ever. It's THAT bad.
The script is a mess. Though Danny Strong has worked with Joss Whedon, an excellent writer, in the past, the talent clearly did not rub off. The exposition is extremely inconsistent, offering too much information about trivial pieces of plot information and not enough about more important information: I don't care about what a "pod" is (basically a booby trap), but I would like to know what a "mutt" is (a weird cross-breed of zombie, dog, and lizard-man). Romantic scenes are incredibly awkward, what with Gale and Peeta openly discussing which of them Katniss will choose while Katniss is in the exact same room! Note to Strong and Craig: real people don't discuss competing romantic interests with their rivals, especially when the person in whom they are interested is right in front of them! But worst of all is the heavy-handedness with which they treat the word "game": sure, the Hunger Games are a horrifying symbol for society's lust for violence, but I can only take so many puns before I want to throttle the screenwriters.
Keep in mind, all the details I mentioned above are only enough to make Mockingjay Part 2 a "bad" movie. Mockingjay Part 2 takes a sharp detour into "horrible" territory once we consider the actual themes and implications. In short, the entire movie presents the "meet the new boss/same as the old boss" cycle of revolutions. The video game, Bioshock, related this theme by making the player/audience member complicit in the revolution and a victim of the change in fortunes. George Orwell harnessed the power of this theme in one chapter of Nineteen Eighty-Four. Pete Townshend of the Who summed it up in nine words. What do all of these artistic media have in common? They all communicate the hollow nature of revolution: there's no happy ending within the newly crowned regime. How does Mockingjay Part 2 resolve this theme? Spoiler alert: Katniss kills President Coin in public. With Coin gone, the revolution gets a magically more moderate President and starts rebuilding without threat of new tyranny. How does this work? It's not possible that the one person who became President of District 13 was the only totalitarian in the new regime. One madman does not a despotic state make. Merely killing Coin should not serve as a reset button. But worse than the plot hole is the implication of the assassination: if the new boss doesn't work out, get rid of him/her too! Certainly the new new boss will be better! The film thus serves as little more than intellectual drivel.
But that wouldn't be too offensive... if the film didn't feel the need to pointlessly murder as many characters as structurally possible. For Mockingjay Part 2 isn't just content to kill redshirts: it kills more developed characters too! Now, one would think I should like this. After all, killing characters to whom the audience has an attachment actually leaves an impression. But such deaths must be handled cleverly, paying respect to the qualities of the characters. The deaths of Mufasa in The Lion King, Obi-Wan Kenobi in Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, and Old Yeller in Old Yeller matter because their deaths reflect upon the importance of their relationships to other characters and the ideas/moral values they represent. Their means of dying, too, have significance. Not so with the deaths in Mockingjay Part 2. As much as I think Finnick is a bad character, even I felt insulted when Katniss had to mercy-kill him as he was slowly being eaten alive by mutts. Finnick was supposed to be a badass who should have went down roaring in fury as he cut off one of these monsters' heads; instead, he goes out whimpering like a baby. Even worse is the fate of Katniss's sister, Prim - blown up along with hundreds of other children for the sole purpose of shocking the audience. One might construe Prim's death as representative of the complete loss of innocence for Katniss, but that point was already made clear by Rue's death in the first movie. With her symbolic value removed due to Rue's sacrifice, Prim's death is completely pointless.
And let's touch upon the "bombing children" for a second more. Does Mockingjay Part 2 really need to blow up innocent children in order to make President Coin appear evil? This isn't just a casual plot point either: the film fixates on it. Little bombs disguised as presents fall from the sky, while children are being held up to the gates of President Snow's mansion in hopes of getting them to safety. One flash of light later, and bodies are strewn all over the screen. No one needs or wants to see this: it's over-the-top and insulting. All the filmmakers needed to do was show that President Coin was intent upon setting up a new Hunger Games for the children of the Capitol; the point was clear enough. But, no, we had to see her bomb children. When the audience sees this, they don't get angry at President Coin: we've already established that she's a bad person. No, they get angry at the filmmakers for practically ogling the deaths of innocent children. In essence, Mockingjay Part 2 becomes the Hunger Games themselves: mindless violence intent upon sating an eager audience. Mockingjay Part 2 has zero understanding of the message of the original film. The film practically gives the critical minded viewer the middle finger.
To top it all off, the ending is even worse than that of Catching Fire: even more poorly paced, terribly written, shamelessly optimistic, and pathetically acted. The script practically transforms into a Hallmark card of over-sentimentality and trite wordplay. The setting jarringly transitions from the grey and blues that have been the franchise's chief visual motifs to a garish yellow glow, as if to say the world is now a utopia of no worries. The film abandons the complex themes at work in the first two films, deciding to spend its last ten minutes wrapping up the love triangle. Worst of all: we find out Gale was directly responsible for the bombing of children. Thus, any romantic stakes the choice had are irrelevant: Katniss has a choice between a developed character or a child murderer. And, of course, we need to show Katniss with two children at the end, as if to say, "yes, girls, you can undergo two hellish games, a propaganda war, the sight of your sister being blown up in front of you, but, after it's all over, motherhood is still the locus of female happiness." Guhh...
It's at times like these when I like to clarify my rating system for movies.
9.0-10.0: Films of the highest calibre that anyone should see at some point in his/her lifetime.
8.0-9.0: Excellent films with one or two minor hiccups.
7.0-8.0: Good films that come with a few caveats for certain viewers.
6.0-7.0: Entertaining films with noticeable flaws, but that are enjoyable nonetheless.
5.0-6.0: Either average films or well-made films with themes/messages I find disagreeable.
4.0-5.0: Forgettable movies or disappointing sequels.
3.0-4.0: Films with significant flaws in the production/writing process.
2.0-3.0: Films with overwhelming flaws or significant moral quandaries.
1.0-2.0: Offensively bad/morally insulting films.
0.0-1.0: The lowest of the low: moral, intellectual, and artistic tripe.
Mockingjay Part 2 barely misses the last rung of the ladder; at the very least, the film doesn't realize its morally horrendous implications. But its complete lack of structural integrity, its flagrantly bad pacing, its deplorable themes, and its b****slap of an ending made it the second worst film I saw in 2015, beaten only by the rancid Kingsman: The Secret Service. It's a bitter ending to a franchise I once loved. I legitimately looked forward to every movie in this franchise after the first movie impressed me so much, but each sequel battered down my expectations more. I will always respect the original Hunger Games as one of the best young adult films of the past decade, but its sequels are a continued series of diminishing returns. That's why Mockingjay Part 2 hurts as much as it does: it's the franchise's headstone.
Recommendation: The first Hunger Games film is safe for any child old enough to take the violence. I'd personally recommend it for viewers 12 and up. As one can tell, I'm very much a fan of the film; I do think it is worth one, if not multiple, viewings. If one is a fan of emotionally, if not thematically, engaging characters, I guess Catching Fire is a half-decent film to check out, but I'd recommend ignoring the final scene. Unless one is determined to sit through the entire franchise, I cannot reasonably recommend the first part of Mockingjay. Finally, I don't see any reason for anyone to watch the second part of Mockingjay; it's simply too hateful and simplistic a film for me to endorse.
I give The Hunger Games an 8.0/10, Catching Fire a 6.2/10, Mockingjay Part 1 a 3.4/10, and Mockingjay Part 2 a 1.8/10.
Admirable too is The Hunger Games' immaculate editing and pacing. No scene feels too long or too short. Each character is developed just enough to make a connection with the audience but short enough so as not to distract the viewer's attention from the central character: Katniss. The film handles exposition with a tact I haven't seen in a movie since Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. The Hunger Games must explain a great deal (after all, it is the first film in the franchise), from the literally poisonous politics of the Capitol, to the strategies for winning the Games, to the backstories of the characters. Though a text crawl establishes the base premise of the film, the rest of the exposition is story-driven. Granted, doing this should be story-telling 101, but most film franchises nowadays are content to present exposition dumps without establishing good characters (X-Men, The Amazing Spiderman, Divergent). Thus, The Hunger Games were extremely refreshing when they came out.
The cast is spectacular. Josh Hutcherson might have been a bad child actor whose agent couldn't choose a script for his life (Bridge to Terabithia, Journey to the Center of the Earth, Zathura, RV), but he certainly matured into a competent actor; his Peeta Mellark is clearly unprepared for the games on a physical and emotional level, but he is more than capable of playing to the camera. Donald Sutherland gives a nice subdued performance as the villainous President Snow, wielding power with effortless dignity. Amandla Stenberg is a good child actress, making a highly believable Rue. My personal favorite supporting cast members are Isabelle Fuhrman and Alexander Ludwig as Clove and Cato, the "career" fighters and primary villains. The two play up the sadism to a level just bordering on over-the-top. One senses that the characters come from a culture completely de-sensitized to violence. Murder has no consequence. It's only when their own lives are on the line that they actually show their humanity, showing the desperation of children. The two even have a subtle lethality to their partnership: Clove being silent and detached, Cato being over-confident and unhinged. Indeed, nearly all of the characters serve as much purpose as symbols and ideas as they do characters. One's emotional investment translates into intellectual engagement.
The same principle clearly applies to Katniss. I'm not sure how many people realize just how important The Hunger Games was in launching Jennifer Lawrence's career. Certainly, she had some fans from her performance as Mystique in X-Men: First Class, but The Hunger Games made her a superstar. Watching her performance, one sees the reason why. Katniss isn't just a "strong female character," in the vein of Emily Blunt's character in Edge of Tomorrow or Lois Lane in Superman; she's actually socially aloof and almost sociopathic. The only emotional connection she has with anyone is between she and her sister; she keeps everyone else, from Peeta, to Haymitch, to her own mother, at a distance. Even her clear love interest, Gale, is kept an arm's length away. It's clear Katniss's self-separation is her coping mechanism for the realities of mining district life, in which every day hides a new mine collapse, a new famine, a new pandemic. In the actual games, Katniss's hardened lifestyle is put to the test. Now, Katniss must exude social confidence so as to appeal to the crowd while maintaining her independence and innate defiance. Jennifer Lawrence plays all of these notes perfectly with a focused performance that is neither too aloof nor too engaged. Its intensity works in spades throughout the franchise, but nowhere is it more effective than this film.
Most importantly, the narrative structure of The Hunger Games is complete and cohesive. Every character and event has a purpose. Consider Haymitch - an alcoholic former champion who cares little for his district-mates; his fate, that of a political manipulator drenched in debauchery, is an eerie premonition of what Katniss and Peeta could become. After all, Haymitch shares the detached tone of Katniss and the social acumen of Peeta. Rue is clearly an analogue for Katniss's sister, Primrose: her death in the games suggests Primrose's death. With her gone, Katniss must find a new reason to win the games, be it mere self-preservation or, as is equally the case, the need to protect someone or something else. Will she protect Peeta? Will she protect personal autonomy? Both? The lamentable fates of each of the other fighters links clearly to his/her hamartia. The snarky Glimmer ends up stung to death by hallucinogenic tracker-jacker venom, trapping her in her own illusions of grandeur. The brutal violence of Thresh comes to an end when mutant dogs rend him to pieces. Clove's sadism comes to an agonizing end when Thresh repeatedly smashes her head against a steel wall. Cato, ever the arrogant competitor, is mutilated so badly that he faces the most pitiful of deaths: mercy-killing. Nothing is gratuitous; everything fits into a greater narrative.
Is The Hunger Games a perfect movie? No. Some of the characters are little more than stereotypes, such as the disposable Cinna and the air-headed Effie. The acting occasionally slips into melodrama. The love triangle between Katniss, Peeta, and Gale isn't particularly effective. The shaky cam in the Katniss v. Clove battle is distracting as opposed to thematically engaging, as it is in previous scenes. That said, I'm not sure what more I could demand of the movie. After all, it's a movie meant for teenagers, not adults. It's not supposed to be Shakespearean in its writing or Kubrick-ian in its cinematography. It's meant to be a story with enough allusions and deeper ideas to keep teens enthralled and adults engaged. The Hunger Games does just that, and I can't ask for anything more.
2. Catching Fire - AKA the One with the Stupid Ending
When I first left the theatre after seeing Catching Fire, I was practically spitting venom. I loathed the ending, and I mean, loathed the ending. Catching Fire felt like the Halo 2 of movie endings: a bitter cliffhanger offering neither resolution nor catharsis. I almost hated the whole movie because of it. That said, my opinion of the film has mellowed after two years. Most contemporary critics called Catching Fire a better movie than The Hunger Games; I disagree to this day, but I do recognize the many admirable qualities Catching Fire has. It's a film with likable characters, symbolically pertinent set pieces, extraordinary action sequences, and higher stakes than the first film: pretty much everything one would want in a sequel to The Hunger Games. Even the ending, as unsatisfying as it was and still is, wasn't as bad as I originally thought it was. So, how does Catching Fire hold up? Well, let's take a look.
Katniss and Peeta have both won the 74th annual Hunger Games, and in doing so, have brought tremendous hope to the people of Panem by refusing to kill each other. Indeed, as a result of their actions, mild rebellions have popped up in the poorer districts, particularly District 11, Rue's home. To crush the spirits of the rebellion, President Snow employs a special tradition for the third Quarter Quell/75th Hunger Games: inviting the old tributes back to the games for a tournament of champions. Katniss and Peeta try to fake a marriage and pregnancy in order to get out of the games, but their ruse fails, only serving to infuriate Katniss's other love interest, Gale Hawthorne (Liam Hemsworth). Katniss and Peeta thus enter a new round of games, but this time, they have a larger cohort of allies: the heartthrob Finnick Odair (Sam Claflin), the murderous Johanna Mason (Jena Malone), the frail but loving Mags Flanagan (Lyn Cohen), and the techies Beetee (Jeffrey Wright) and Wiress (Amanda Plummer). Will President Snow manage to crush our heroes' spirits and the hopes of the rebellion? Well, there are two more movies, so the answer should be obvious.
Most critics prefer Catching Fire over the original Hunger Games. Heck, most of my friends prefer Catching Fire over the original Hunger Games. Why? I think the new characters are largely responsible. Most of the characters in the original Hunger Games function as plot devices, foils, and symbols rather than as human beings. Now, this is not to say using characters in this way is inherently wrong: indeed, some of the greatest movies of all time (La Dolce Vita) use characters as modes of relating ideas rather than developing them as persons. But such an approach to character writing is often cold and less than engaging: I'll elaborate upon this should I someday review Roma, Citta Aperta. The new Tributes in Catching Fire have very rich personalities and backstories. My personal favorite would probably be Johanna, a classist and psychopath who won her first Hunger Games by feigning timidity before ruthlessly murdering the last few competitors. Those killings practically released all her inhibitions, as she makes and seemingly breaks alliances with deliciously sinister fervor. While I never connected with the friendly and motherly Mags on a personal level, I cannot deny that her death scene was beautifully shot and emotionally affecting for those who liked the character.
Love for Finnick seems to come from a misbegotten love of the "bad boy with the heart of gold," one of the most malignant stereotypes of modern media, right up there with the "strong female character who lacks any genuine strength." He's snarky, overconfident, and wears revealing clothing, but he loves Mags like a mother and is really just participating in the games so to free his true love from the clutches of the evil Capitol. Now, most people who protest the use of "bad boys with hearts of gold" trope dislike the characters for their "bad" elements: no matter their good intentions, nothing warrants the initial moral misconduct. But, as I see it, it's the "heart of gold" that ruins Finnick as a character. The Hunger Games are supposed to be a taxing experience. Victory and defeat are equally soul-draining: it's just a matter of whether the soul leaves the body in the physical or the spiritual sense. Yet, in spite of this, Finnick is a practically perfect Prince Charming. He flirts with danger without any consequence, since he's that much better a fighter than everyone else. He shrugs off the worst of the Capitol's tricks with his spirit very much intact. Even the death of Mags merely manages to make him cry rather than break him completely. When the hero is this invulnerable, his odyssey has no real stakes. Instead of being a truly developed character, Finnick services as little more than a generic trope and teenage girl eye-candy.
So, if I'm not a huge fan of the characters, what part of Catching Fire do I like better than The Hunger Games? The action scenes. The Hunger Games had some of the most symbolically effective and engaging combat in any young adult film I've ever seen, using shaky cam for a genuinely artistic purpose rather than cheap theatrics. But I'd be lying if I said The Hunger Games didn't occasionally abuse its trump card. Catching Fire is not nearly so reliant on shaky cam, using crane shots and extended tracking shots to show off combat. The opening fight scene at the Games' central hub is especially effective. The other effects in the movie are also visually fascinating. Mags' death scene and sacrifice is particularly beautiful in its execution; I will not say many good things about Francis Lawrence in the two reviews to come, but I will praise him for this truly effective scene. Not to mention, the already great set design is turned up to 11. There's no doubt about it: Catching Fire looks great.
But, much like a shiny coat of new paint on a car or the graphics card on the latest Call of Duty game, no amount of visual improvements can save a flawed interior. For Catching Fire, that flawed interior is the writing. Few characters share any verbal chemistry beyond bare bones relationships. Most of the dialogue is extremely weak, particularly the romantic tension between Katniss, Peeta, and Gale. While the original Hunger Games made it very clear that Katniss's affection for Peeta was limited to keeping both him and herself alive, keeping Gale as the actual love interest, Catching Fire develops one of the most groan-inducing love triangles in teen fiction. Fortunately, the writers of Catching Fire manage to keep moping and complaining out of the script... at least for this movie. However, let it be known that Catching Fire and not The Hunger Games directly inspired some of the worst elements of the Mockingjay films.
The flaws go beyond the sentence by sentence issues. The plot itself is a hackneyed mechanism for getting Katniss and Peeta back into the games. Though some of the story ideas, such as Katniss's feigning pregnancy to get out of the games, are quite clever, they're never utilized to their fullest. The pathological manipulation of the audience is instantly dropped once the characters enter the games. Furthermore, the general lack of interesting in-game villains keeps the stakes at a minimum. The only real threats come from the ever unpredictable Johanna and President Snow's game design; though they're semi-effective short-term threats, they only serve the purpose of enhancing brief action sequences rather than real character development. Unlike the first film, nothing is deliberate; it's just a rough transcription of the book onto film that pays no heed to developing a self-contained and consistent narrative.
Which brings me to the film's "brilliant" ending... Catching Fire ends on a plot twist, revealing that the allegedly destroyed District 13 has been operating in secret to take down the Capitol and free the districts. Most critics loved the unexpected turn, putting it on par with The Empire Strikes Back's "No, I am your father" or The Usual Suspect's "the greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist." However, those twists work because there's plenty of clues hinting to them throughout the movie. Once one knows the twist, one can appreciate the subtleties of the preceding details all the more. Catching Fire offers no clues. Rather, the reveal of District 13 comes practically out of nowhere, being hardly mentioned in the previous two films whatsoever. The only time I actually remembered them was from the opening text crawl of the first movie. What's even more infuriating is that Suzanne Collins apparently had new characters who introduced the idea of District 13 still being around in the original Catching Fire book; the Catching Fire film drops this point entirely: a simple fix gone kaput. Worst of all, the reveal is horrendously paced, giving a mere three minutes of screen time to an entirely new plot point that completely changes the tone of the series. The audience barely has time to process the twist before the film abruptly ends. Instead of being interested in a new direction for the series and appreciating the increased stakes of the franchise, the audience is left bewildered and full of questions. Where has District 13 hidden? Who are these people? What was their function before their extermination? How did they acquire the weaponry to destroy the Hunger Games center? How did they communicate with the Tributes? Indeed, there are so many questions left at the end of this movie that it takes an entire movie for The Hunger Games franchise to finally re-center itself.
Why is the writing this bad? Well, the writing teams of The Hunger Games and Catching Fire are completely different. Not one of the original writers of The Hunger Games returned for Catching Fire. The worst of these losses is that of Suzanne Collins - The Hunger Games' actual writer. The later writing teams lacked the direction of the original novelist, allowing for the theming and narrative to have duller impacts. Perhaps more important is the shift in the structure of the writing team. The first film's director, Gary Ross, was one of the writers, giving him a clearer sense of the material he had to direct. The new director of The Hunger Games films, Francis Lawrence, is not a member of the writing team at all. This disconnect leads to an overall lack of focus for the entire movie. Not to mention, the quality between the two directors is tremendous: Lawrence released the critical flops Constantine and I Am Legend, Ross released the critical darlings Pleasantville and Seabiscuit. The step down is palpable.
While Catching Fire is far from a bad movie - the nice action scenes and characters do pick up a great deal of the narrative slack - it is a significant comedown from the adrenaline and intellectual highs of the first movie. It's watchable, but I could only ever call it better than average. Ultimately, the high production values, rather than anything else, end up as the movie's saving grace. The film looks spectacular, and there are plenty of memorable visuals. However, those visuals don't mean anything within either a self-contained or expansive franchise narrative. Throw in an irritating, poorly paced ending, and Catching Fire was my first turn-off to The Hunger Games franchise.
3. Mockingjay Part 1 - AKA the Boring One
After being disappointed with Catching Fire, I nonetheless had high hopes for Mockingjay Part 1. After all, the film promised so much: answers to the questions left by the preceding film's twist ending, new symbols as opposed to the increasingly overused idea of the Hunger Games themselves, improved action scenes, more diverse locations. Most importantly, I hoped for character development. The "Part 1" in the title actually gave me a lot of hope, as these split sequels usually devote the first film almost entirely to character development. In fact, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1 is one of my favorite Harry Potter movies - ranked third after Prisoner of Azkaban and Sorcerer's Stone - entirely because of its focus on character. What did I get? A bunch of mildly entertaining images that introduced ideas without really developing them and a tremendous amount of build-up for a sequel.
As we learned in the last minutes of the last film, District 13 has been operating in secret to try to overthrow the Capitol. Their leader, President Coin (Julianne Moore), is determined to use Katniss Everdeen to fuel their rebellion, using her as a symbol of rebellion forces. To ensure Katniss's complicity, the rebellion reveals that President Snow has completely destroyed District 12, although Gale, Primrose, and Katniss's mother all managed to join with District 13 before the act of genocide. Katniss agrees, only to find out that she's not very good at the whole "inspiring people" schtick. Meanwhile, Peeta has been captured by the Capitol and forced to deliver propaganda for their side. Katniss manages to rescue Peeta, only for him to try to kill her. As it turns out, the Capitol has brainwashed him into becoming an assassin. The film ends with Katniss lamenting Peeta's fate and hoping District 13 can find some cure.
That's the whole plot. I only removed relatively minor details about characters for whom we don't need to care. Sure, we meet a few of President Coin's henchmen, but they don't have any characters outside their job description. There's Cressida (Natalie Dormer), the head of propaganda; her most defining feature is her weird hairstyle. There's Boggs (Mahershala Ali), the military chief; his only contribution to the plot is knocking Peeta out at the end. Gale gets a bit more development, becoming an officer in President Coin's army. But even this is but a small change: we don't learn anything more about him as a person, and he only suffices as a shoulder for Katniss to cry on. However, that role becomes practically redundant as Katniss has hardened herself sufficiently enough so as to not cry very often. Every time Lawrence tries to develop a character, the attempt fails due to the plot's inertia. As opposed to, say, Deathly Hallows Part 1, which actually used the set pieces to try to develop the characters, Mockingjay Part 1 is literally stuck underground.
The strongest idea at work in Mockingjay Part 1 is the battle between personal autonomy and the needs of the state, particularly with regards to propaganda. As District 13 develops a military bureaucracy, Katniss must serve as their Uncle Sam, a role of which she is not particularly fond. Many scenes show Katniss struggling to comply with the demands of Cressida and the other members of Coin's cabinet, her antisocial behavior getting in the way of their efforts to foment rebellion. As it stands, though, these scenes don't push the idea any further than the original Hunger Games film: there, too, Katniss suffered when she was unable to connect with the audience. Mockingjay Part 1 tries to push the idea further by indicating that Katniss must harness the pain of others to make an impression, but that same principle applied in the first film: Katniss only ever seemed empathetic when put into contact with either Rue or Peeta. At best, Mockingjay Part 1 merely makes explicit that which was implied in The Hunger Games.
What's worse: Mockingjay Part 1 does away with nearly all of Catching Fire's redeemable elements. Interesting characters like Johanna are completely sidelined in favor of President Coin and her flunkies, who couldn't be more emotionless if they were Vulcans. The action scenes are the worst of the entire franchise, with edgy hand-to-hand combat being replaced with generic CGI explosions and a few trick arrows. The film is practically colorless. All the diverse locations of the previous movies are gone; all that's left are grey, war-torn landscapes. I could find more interesting settings in a generic first person shooter. The costumes are monochromatic, suggesting a hive mind mentality to District 13, but there's no plot element to expand upon this idea. Mockingjay Part 1 feels phoned in from every production angle.
The strongest idea at work in Mockingjay Part 1 is the battle between personal autonomy and the needs of the state, particularly with regards to propaganda. As District 13 develops a military bureaucracy, Katniss must serve as their Uncle Sam, a role of which she is not particularly fond. Many scenes show Katniss struggling to comply with the demands of Cressida and the other members of Coin's cabinet, her antisocial behavior getting in the way of their efforts to foment rebellion. As it stands, though, these scenes don't push the idea any further than the original Hunger Games film: there, too, Katniss suffered when she was unable to connect with the audience. Mockingjay Part 1 tries to push the idea further by indicating that Katniss must harness the pain of others to make an impression, but that same principle applied in the first film: Katniss only ever seemed empathetic when put into contact with either Rue or Peeta. At best, Mockingjay Part 1 merely makes explicit that which was implied in The Hunger Games.
What's worse: Mockingjay Part 1 does away with nearly all of Catching Fire's redeemable elements. Interesting characters like Johanna are completely sidelined in favor of President Coin and her flunkies, who couldn't be more emotionless if they were Vulcans. The action scenes are the worst of the entire franchise, with edgy hand-to-hand combat being replaced with generic CGI explosions and a few trick arrows. The film is practically colorless. All the diverse locations of the previous movies are gone; all that's left are grey, war-torn landscapes. I could find more interesting settings in a generic first person shooter. The costumes are monochromatic, suggesting a hive mind mentality to District 13, but there's no plot element to expand upon this idea. Mockingjay Part 1 feels phoned in from every production angle.
The film's sole saving grace is its acting. Jennifer Lawrence is still a highly engaging Katniss; her facial expressions do indicate at least some of the modest character development she has received over the course of the past two films. When Peeta attacks her, we really do care what happens next. Liam Hemsworth might not have much to do, but he certainly makes the best of his screen time. Julianne Moore is even somewhat imposing as President Coin, even if the inevitable plot twist for the sequel is practically written into her forehead. If the dialogue is soulless, the actors clearly try their best to make it count. No one seems to be phoning it in. As far as redeemable elements go, though, that's about it.
Mockingjay Part 1 is a difficult movie to review, as it's barely a movie at all. It's clearly designed to set up the next film, and the lack of any real character development or thematic expansion makes it a challenge to sit through. It's just plain boring: something I couldn't say about either Catching Fire or The Hunger Games. I want to see where these characters are going, but Mockingjay Part 1 keeps spinning its wheels without gaining traction. At the very least, the film does clarify some of the questions Catching Fire's whiplash ending left, putting us on good footing for the sequel...
Mockingjay Part 1 is a difficult movie to review, as it's barely a movie at all. It's clearly designed to set up the next film, and the lack of any real character development or thematic expansion makes it a challenge to sit through. It's just plain boring: something I couldn't say about either Catching Fire or The Hunger Games. I want to see where these characters are going, but Mockingjay Part 1 keeps spinning its wheels without gaining traction. At the very least, the film does clarify some of the questions Catching Fire's whiplash ending left, putting us on good footing for the sequel...
4. Mockingjay Part 2 - AKA the Soulless One
I hate this movie.
Katniss and the rest of District 13 lament the fact that Peeta's re-conditioning after his being brainwashed is more difficult than originally planned. Furious, Katniss decides to go after President Snow and personally assassinate him, hiding aboard a supply transport to arrive at the now war-torn Capitol. Coin sends a squad of soldiers to help Katniss once she learns it is impossible to call her back; these soldiers include Gale, Finnick, Cressida, Boggs, and a highly unpredictable Peeta. Using a map known as a "Holo," Katniss and her allies must traverse a series of booby traps in order to get to the Capitol, costing the lives of everyone but the few characters about whom we actually give a damn. After arriving at the Capitol, bombs go off, killing hundreds of Capitol children. Everyone assumes President Snow murdered his own people in an act of desperation. However, once President Coin reveals that she intends to set up a final "Hunger Games" to satisfy the rebellious districts, this time with the Capitol's children up on the screen, Katniss realizes the ugly truth and must make a choice that will determine the fate of Panem.
Let's start with the plot. Mockingjay Part 2 has a lot riding on it: after all, we had an entire previous movie building up the stakes of this movie. In the slightest respect, Mockingjay Part 2 provides a modicum of risk to the story. The addition of the unstable Peeta to the military group makes the mission a bit more interesting. Indeed, in some points, we do see Peeta act in a treasonous fashion, pitting the interests of Katniss (and the audience) against those of District 13. However, whatever good this does is insignificant compared to the actual mission itself. All the obstacles between our heroes and President Snow are generic explosions, Stormtrooper clones, and CGI gobbledegook. Even worse, these obstacles play out like licensed video game levels: I can practically see "Press X to shoot, hold L1 to aim" on the sides of the screen.
This pacing would be terrible enough on its own, but its effect is made even worse considering the slipshod characterization found in Mockingjay Part 2. The film tries so hard to bare-bones characterize each one of the redshirts in Katniss's team; no sooner do we learn the slightest bit of information about these characters than do they die. We learn Lt. Jackson has legitimate trust issues: dead in the next five minutes. We learn that the Leeg twins love each other: dead in the next two minutes. We learn Boggs doesn't like President Coin very much: revealed as he is bleeding out. The film wastes precious time that could be spent on characters we actually do like on cannon fodder we expect to die. We know Katniss, Peeta, and Gale are going to live, so we don't give a damn when anyone else dies, rendering the obstacles completely useless. The mission has zero dramatic tension, and it's the bulk of the film.
Then again, even if the film provided genuinely interesting characters and had enough time to develop them, we would want them to die anyways: the acting is terrible! Everyone in District 13 acts like a lifeless drone. When Katniss acted in this way in the first movie, it had purpose; her asocial tendencies both showed the harsh nature of District 12 life and made Katniss more vulnerable in the Games and, by extension, more sympathetic. Here, it just feels as if these characters are dull redshirts: the only meaning they could ever have is accenting the threat level of some new obstacle. Julianne Moore's ice cold performance as President Coin, while threatening in the previous movie, is oddly boring in this movie: did something happen overnight to make her lose her acting mojo? The ordinarily excellent performance of Donald Sutherland as President Snow switches from off-puttingly succinct and lethal to campy and cartoonish. Liam Hemsworth's facial expressions are restricted to immature glares, Josh Hutcherson's to mournful puppy dog eyes. Even Jennifer Lawrence is terrible in this movie. While her previous performances had an edge, this one seems entirely phoned in. Thus, when Katniss has a huge emotional breakdown at the end of the film, the result isn't moving, but laughable. The most accurate parallel to the acting of Mockingjay Part 2 is Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, widely considered to be one of the worst movie sequels ever. It's THAT bad.
The script is a mess. Though Danny Strong has worked with Joss Whedon, an excellent writer, in the past, the talent clearly did not rub off. The exposition is extremely inconsistent, offering too much information about trivial pieces of plot information and not enough about more important information: I don't care about what a "pod" is (basically a booby trap), but I would like to know what a "mutt" is (a weird cross-breed of zombie, dog, and lizard-man). Romantic scenes are incredibly awkward, what with Gale and Peeta openly discussing which of them Katniss will choose while Katniss is in the exact same room! Note to Strong and Craig: real people don't discuss competing romantic interests with their rivals, especially when the person in whom they are interested is right in front of them! But worst of all is the heavy-handedness with which they treat the word "game": sure, the Hunger Games are a horrifying symbol for society's lust for violence, but I can only take so many puns before I want to throttle the screenwriters.
Keep in mind, all the details I mentioned above are only enough to make Mockingjay Part 2 a "bad" movie. Mockingjay Part 2 takes a sharp detour into "horrible" territory once we consider the actual themes and implications. In short, the entire movie presents the "meet the new boss/same as the old boss" cycle of revolutions. The video game, Bioshock, related this theme by making the player/audience member complicit in the revolution and a victim of the change in fortunes. George Orwell harnessed the power of this theme in one chapter of Nineteen Eighty-Four. Pete Townshend of the Who summed it up in nine words. What do all of these artistic media have in common? They all communicate the hollow nature of revolution: there's no happy ending within the newly crowned regime. How does Mockingjay Part 2 resolve this theme? Spoiler alert: Katniss kills President Coin in public. With Coin gone, the revolution gets a magically more moderate President and starts rebuilding without threat of new tyranny. How does this work? It's not possible that the one person who became President of District 13 was the only totalitarian in the new regime. One madman does not a despotic state make. Merely killing Coin should not serve as a reset button. But worse than the plot hole is the implication of the assassination: if the new boss doesn't work out, get rid of him/her too! Certainly the new new boss will be better! The film thus serves as little more than intellectual drivel.
But that wouldn't be too offensive... if the film didn't feel the need to pointlessly murder as many characters as structurally possible. For Mockingjay Part 2 isn't just content to kill redshirts: it kills more developed characters too! Now, one would think I should like this. After all, killing characters to whom the audience has an attachment actually leaves an impression. But such deaths must be handled cleverly, paying respect to the qualities of the characters. The deaths of Mufasa in The Lion King, Obi-Wan Kenobi in Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, and Old Yeller in Old Yeller matter because their deaths reflect upon the importance of their relationships to other characters and the ideas/moral values they represent. Their means of dying, too, have significance. Not so with the deaths in Mockingjay Part 2. As much as I think Finnick is a bad character, even I felt insulted when Katniss had to mercy-kill him as he was slowly being eaten alive by mutts. Finnick was supposed to be a badass who should have went down roaring in fury as he cut off one of these monsters' heads; instead, he goes out whimpering like a baby. Even worse is the fate of Katniss's sister, Prim - blown up along with hundreds of other children for the sole purpose of shocking the audience. One might construe Prim's death as representative of the complete loss of innocence for Katniss, but that point was already made clear by Rue's death in the first movie. With her symbolic value removed due to Rue's sacrifice, Prim's death is completely pointless.
And let's touch upon the "bombing children" for a second more. Does Mockingjay Part 2 really need to blow up innocent children in order to make President Coin appear evil? This isn't just a casual plot point either: the film fixates on it. Little bombs disguised as presents fall from the sky, while children are being held up to the gates of President Snow's mansion in hopes of getting them to safety. One flash of light later, and bodies are strewn all over the screen. No one needs or wants to see this: it's over-the-top and insulting. All the filmmakers needed to do was show that President Coin was intent upon setting up a new Hunger Games for the children of the Capitol; the point was clear enough. But, no, we had to see her bomb children. When the audience sees this, they don't get angry at President Coin: we've already established that she's a bad person. No, they get angry at the filmmakers for practically ogling the deaths of innocent children. In essence, Mockingjay Part 2 becomes the Hunger Games themselves: mindless violence intent upon sating an eager audience. Mockingjay Part 2 has zero understanding of the message of the original film. The film practically gives the critical minded viewer the middle finger.
To top it all off, the ending is even worse than that of Catching Fire: even more poorly paced, terribly written, shamelessly optimistic, and pathetically acted. The script practically transforms into a Hallmark card of over-sentimentality and trite wordplay. The setting jarringly transitions from the grey and blues that have been the franchise's chief visual motifs to a garish yellow glow, as if to say the world is now a utopia of no worries. The film abandons the complex themes at work in the first two films, deciding to spend its last ten minutes wrapping up the love triangle. Worst of all: we find out Gale was directly responsible for the bombing of children. Thus, any romantic stakes the choice had are irrelevant: Katniss has a choice between a developed character or a child murderer. And, of course, we need to show Katniss with two children at the end, as if to say, "yes, girls, you can undergo two hellish games, a propaganda war, the sight of your sister being blown up in front of you, but, after it's all over, motherhood is still the locus of female happiness." Guhh...
It's at times like these when I like to clarify my rating system for movies.
9.0-10.0: Films of the highest calibre that anyone should see at some point in his/her lifetime.
8.0-9.0: Excellent films with one or two minor hiccups.
7.0-8.0: Good films that come with a few caveats for certain viewers.
6.0-7.0: Entertaining films with noticeable flaws, but that are enjoyable nonetheless.
5.0-6.0: Either average films or well-made films with themes/messages I find disagreeable.
4.0-5.0: Forgettable movies or disappointing sequels.
3.0-4.0: Films with significant flaws in the production/writing process.
2.0-3.0: Films with overwhelming flaws or significant moral quandaries.
1.0-2.0: Offensively bad/morally insulting films.
0.0-1.0: The lowest of the low: moral, intellectual, and artistic tripe.
Mockingjay Part 2 barely misses the last rung of the ladder; at the very least, the film doesn't realize its morally horrendous implications. But its complete lack of structural integrity, its flagrantly bad pacing, its deplorable themes, and its b****slap of an ending made it the second worst film I saw in 2015, beaten only by the rancid Kingsman: The Secret Service. It's a bitter ending to a franchise I once loved. I legitimately looked forward to every movie in this franchise after the first movie impressed me so much, but each sequel battered down my expectations more. I will always respect the original Hunger Games as one of the best young adult films of the past decade, but its sequels are a continued series of diminishing returns. That's why Mockingjay Part 2 hurts as much as it does: it's the franchise's headstone.
Recommendation: The first Hunger Games film is safe for any child old enough to take the violence. I'd personally recommend it for viewers 12 and up. As one can tell, I'm very much a fan of the film; I do think it is worth one, if not multiple, viewings. If one is a fan of emotionally, if not thematically, engaging characters, I guess Catching Fire is a half-decent film to check out, but I'd recommend ignoring the final scene. Unless one is determined to sit through the entire franchise, I cannot reasonably recommend the first part of Mockingjay. Finally, I don't see any reason for anyone to watch the second part of Mockingjay; it's simply too hateful and simplistic a film for me to endorse.
I give The Hunger Games an 8.0/10, Catching Fire a 6.2/10, Mockingjay Part 1 a 3.4/10, and Mockingjay Part 2 a 1.8/10.
I respectfully disagree with your opinion of Mockingjay Part 2. While I wholeheartedly agree that bombing the children (especially Prim, that was cheap), Katniss' super nostalgic ending, and some of the redshirts held the film back, I think this film offers a lot of tension and suspense in its structure, and accomplishes that in subtle ways. What matters in Mockingjay, which is what matters in the first Hunger Games as well, is survival and independence, and I don't think your review analyzes those themes fairly in the latest Hunger Games.
ReplyDeleteA note on President Coin's death before going into my main criticism. Yes, District 13 was sullen and dry, but that was supposed to be the exact opposite of the garish, overjoyed Capitol. This extreme contrast between the Capitol and District 13 positively reflects on the ending. Though the switch of power may have not been logically carried out in a real-world situation, the killing of President Coin and Snow reflected the need of a government that was less extreme, something in the middle. This is particularly relevant when one thinks about our two party political system that constantly bashes heads with each other, and I have a sense that was all Suzanne Collins wanted to really say. It's a YA book after all.
Thanks for the comments! This is exactly the kind of discourse I like to see on this blog. That said, I hope you won't take offense if I argue against some of your criticisms.
DeleteWhile I understand the symbolic differences between District 13 and the Capitol, I think the symbolic function of District 13 was already satisfied by Districts 12 and 11 in the previous movies. We've already seen regions devoid of human spirit and covered in grey: shouldn't District 13 offer more variety and hope, even if it is ultimately false hope?
So contrary to what you said, I think the stakes are higher than before. All the audience wants is for President Snow to die. He has led us through the pain of the Hunger Games twice, took Peeta away, and has killed innocent people. Now, in Mockingjay Part 2, we finally get the chance to attack his fort and kill this man. Any failure to kill this man, who continues to commit awful acts throughout the movie, is the ultimate disappointment and loss. In that way, we relate to Katniss' drive to kill President Snow, and that's what we hold on to throughout the movie. Her drive to kill is also what makes her inhumane. I'll get back to that later.
ReplyDeleteThis is also why other characters that were redshirts can die while still being meaningful. These soldiers and friends are giving their lives up for her vengeance. They put their faith in her because they believe in her, even though she lied to them, even though she isn't following what their government tells them to do. They have rebelled against the rebellion for her. This characterizes every companion as an independent thinker who can evaluate the situation and make their own decisions. And so, each one of their deaths is beautiful, as it is one more reminder of the level of human commitment, sacrifice, trust, and thought that she used to finally make it to the Capitol.
I'm not sure if President Snow's death alone is sufficient stakes to drive this movie. He was a very effective villain in the first two films by virtue of what he symbolized - the ruthlessness of the political process, the hands-free violence bloodsport provides, the effortlessness of top-down genocide - not really for his individual actions or his role in the political process. However, by the fourth movie, the universe has expanded. The complex political ideas presented (though not adequately developed, in my opinion) in Mockingjay Part One make it more difficult for Snow to merely serve as a foil to Katniss. He's now the head of an entire regime that must be destroyed from multiple angles. While Katniss's quest is personal, we as an audience are aware that one assassination is not enough to completely destabilize the Capitol. After all, there are plenty of other politicians in the Capitol.
DeleteI'm not sure if I buy your arguments about the redshirts either. Merely "rebelling against the rebellion" isn't enough to create a compelling character or establish individuality. Did all of the soldiers really agree with Katniss, or were they just caught along for the ride with the few higher ranking redshirts who did? Perhaps the book explained the idea better, but the film handles it with a throwaway line.
Beyond its structure, Mockingjay Part 2 has incredible subtlety in its content, editing, and camerawork. A sign of desperation and carelessness can be seen when the "Stormtrooper" lookalikes destroy the building that Katniss and her team are supposedly in. One of the soldiers is actually killed by friendly fire. This shows a lack of care beyond just Snow: the soldiers of do not show prudence when it comes to themselves. This emphasizes the haphazard, desperate nature of this urban warfare, and elevates the danger for our heroes. Anything can happen for the sake of the goal, and the constant deadly, unbelievable traps affirm this for the audience. From the trap net and spikes to the mutts, anything could kill you, and you won't know from where it comes or what it is.
ReplyDeleteIn another act of incredible subtlety, we experience Katniss' sleep deprivation through editing. The captain takes the first guard nightshift, and the camera has a close-up of Katniss going to sleep. Yet, this is rudely awakened only half a second later by the captain who says its Katniss' turn on the nightshift. In the film's logic, Katniss did sleep for some time, but it was terrible, restless sleep. Again, we are confronted with her struggle and discomfort through an editing technique. The film puts us in her shoes, and we feel her exhaustion as she tries to stay alert for enemies.
I guess we differ here on the general effectiveness of the film's action sequences, but I find this more a matter of personal experience. Based on the films I've seen, I found the vast majority of the action set pieces either generic or, as in the case of the oil net, pretty preposterous. However, this is more a matter of personal preference. The one qualm I would make is in the set design Mockingjay Part 2 uses; the entire path to Snow is linear. In the original Hunger Games movie, the fighting scenes were in an open arena rife with chaos. Here, one knows "something" is coming. Instead of the action feeling random and truly chaotic, it feels manipulative.
DeleteThe sleep deprivation scene was probably the only scene in the movie I genuinely liked. Thanks for pointing it out.
Speaking of mutts, the sewer scene was actually my favorite part. Forced to move underground because of the dangers of the above world without the Holo, Katniss and her team are moving through enemy territory with no map guiding them and guards everywhere. Already its a tense situation. You are right, the film at times felt like a video game during this part, but that was to its benefit. When a character slowly leans out from around the corner, gun drawn, staring into the darkness, it evokes the best parts of the video game Resident Evil: danger, fear of the unknown, suspense. Walking slowly through the sewers, hearing the mutts behind you, but not knowing what it is, causes fear. There were even some references to Alien, like how they shot a scene through a small, geometric opening in the wall while the team walks by or how they shoot the flares down the hallway to see what is up ahead. This scene was incredibly suspenseful and harrowing and the final arrival of the mutts satisfied the audience's desire to know what was following them and also an explosive action scene.
ReplyDeleteDonald Sutherland did a great job as President Snow. When Katniss finally meets him, you want him dead, you want him punished for everything that he has done. And he will be executed. But President Snow questions our bloodlust. He makes Katniss (and simultaneously the audience) question whether Snow blew up the children himself. Our search for vengeance is momentarily stopped and you can see it in Katniss' eyes. This is the first time she meets him face-to-face and not on a video camera. Seeing him in person, and learning about him through his body language and presence, she begins to have respect for Snow. Though he is a killer, he is an intelligent man, and Snow sees that in Katniss as well. Though Katniss has had a relentless drive and thirst for blood throughout the film, Snow knows that she can think for herself, and that's what he appeals to in her and in us. Truly, Snow brings Katniss back from the mindless killer that District 13 and the games have made her, and the audience, into.
I'm sorry; I can't help but find the sewer scene redundant and uninspired. I've seen the same type of scene in dozens of other movies. Rather than feeling like an homage, it feels like a structural cop-out to me. Plus, I think it's better to have some vague idea of what you're afraid of rather than getting a complete surprise. That's why the Regenerator scene from Resident Evil 4 is my favorite in that video game franchise; we have some idea of what's coming, but the real result is even more frightening. The Mutts get mention, but we have no idea what they are. Thus, when their uninspired design comes forth in a generic jump scare, it's underwhelming.
DeleteThe scene in the greenhouse was one of the film's better moments, but Sutherland's laughter in his death scene was an inexcusable piece of camp that shattered my suspension of disbelief.
In the execution scene, Katniss asserts her independent mind, body, and self by killing Coin. Katniss is decked out in an entirely black suit, portrayed as a human killing machine if I ever saw one. In the final standoff between her and Snow, Donald Sutherland performs brilliantly as well. He does not fear Katniss or his death. He only wonders what her final choice will be. When she kills Coin, she asserts her independence from everyone else. Though she helps other people, she's dependent on helping other people. Her ultimate victory, which you saw in the original Hunger Games movie, is her learning how to be completely self-dependent and live on her terms. She becomes the Mockingjay, the bird that could communicate with other human beings, but be entirely free from government control. That's the kind of home that she creates with Peeta when she segregates herself from society, lives on what she can catch, and raises a family, although it has an annoyingly cheesy tint.
ReplyDeleteThere are other aspects about this movie that I didn't address. For example, vision is crucial in the Hunger Games. The books are narrated from a first person point of view, which emphasize what Katniss sees, but also everything from the television screens to the propaganda video taping invokes security, performance, and spying. In this last movie, characters constantly use visual language when they don't have to (if I had access to the film, I would tell you where) and the big change in Katniss comes from meeting her enemy in person for the first time. Mockingjay Part 2 really expands upon the visual theme, but I didn't see that addressed in your review.
I say all this while agreeing with the rest of your Hunger Games review almost entirely. I just think this last movie gets so much hate for the wrong reasons, so I felt compelled to write this.
I'm not sure if Katniss really does free herself. How does she stop herself from being a human killing machine? Killing another human, of course. But this time, she faces no real consequences for her actions... arbitrarily. Again, I find it ludicrous that Coin is the only member of District 13 with an agenda; no regime willing to bomb children can come from the work of one man. Katniss did have two ways of asserting her independence. The first would be to walk away from President Snow, realizing that her life is futile and that Coin has distorted everything she thought she stood for. The film would end on a bleak note, knowing that Coin would just reset everything; it would be a reflection upon the futility of many revolutions. The other option which would be even darker but perhaps even better: Katniss kills herself, echoing her intention from the first movie. That death would be a true rallying cry and throw everything out of balance, leaving the world with an uncertain future while clearly showing Katniss's willingness to not be an instrument of war.
DeleteThanks for the analysis! I'm glad you enjoyed the franchise, even if it came to disappoint me.