Movie Review: The Hunger Games

I read The Hunger Games last winter and, enjoying it thoroughly, proceeded directly through the rest of the trilogy.  While author Suzanne Collins does a masterful job of writing a compelling, cohesive narrative, there were some flaws in it, both technically and, more importantly, at least to me, from a logical and ideological perspective.  I had fully intended to write a review of the trilogy as a whole because, as anyone who has read the books can tell you, they’re written as a seamless narrative.  The problem, however, is that so many people are just starting to read it and to address any of the major themes that weave through the story, I would have to spoil some pretty major plot points.  So I put it aside.

Now that the movie has come out, and been hugely successful, I’m doubly glad I didn’t write that review, as almost all the people I know who hadn’t already read the books seem to be doing so now.  Having read the series then watched the movie, I almost wish that weren’t the case.  I would very much like to talk in-depth with someone who had only seen the movie.  So what I’m going to try to do now is look at the movie from both sides, first as a standalone project, then as an adaptation.

I should start by saying that I enjoyed the movie, mostly.  It’s still up in the air as to how much of that mostly was because of what it was and how much was because of what it could have been, all comparisons to the novel aside.  Don’t get me wrong, it was well-executed in many ways, from the acting and writing to the deft handling of some fairly deep thematic elements, which was part of the problem.  When you watch a truly bad movie, you don’t walk away thinking of ways it could have been better, for the most part.  But when you watch a good movie that could have been really great with just a little bit more, you leave with that vaguely frustrating sense of what if.

I’m not certain if Collins had a hand in the casting or if the casting director just really got the book, but either way, the ensemble was perfectly put together.  Both Jennifer Lawrence and Josh Hutcherson have been getting their well-deserved praise, but for me, a movie is as much or more defined by its supporting cast as the leads and that’s where The Hunger Games really shines. 

Both Elizabeth Banks and Woody Harrelson do a superb job of making characters who could very easily have been overdone and unlikable both empathetic and entertaining. 

Stanley Tucci, as well, revealing just the slightest hint of what was probably one of the most subtle characters in the film, humanizing Caesar by giving us just the slightest hint, here and there, that he may not necessarily have been okay with what he was doing. 

Amandla Stenberg gave an incredible performance as little Rue, walking the line between intellect and innocence that made her, heartbreakingly, the perfect sacrificial lamb.  My favorite performance, though, came from Lenny Kravitz.  As Cinna, he carried effortlessly a quiet calm that stood as a single, solid anchor in an incredibly frenetic world.  I hope to see a lot more of him in the future. 

When I got home from the movie, I went onto IMDB to find out who the director was.  I was startled to see Gary Ross’s name at the head of the page.  His first big screen effort, Pleasantville, is a favorite of mine and was masterfully filmed.  I would never have guessed, given the subtle, powerful way in which it was done that it was the same guy whose hand guided the camera throughout The Hunger Games. 

When the movie began, and we were led through the harsh reality of District 12, the slightly skewed angles, shaky camerawork and just a little too close framing captured well the hopeless, claustrophobic world in which Katniss lives.  I was pleased.  When it continued, however, once she was outside the fence and into the woods, then on through the rest of the movie, I was far less so.  I’ve railed in the past against the growing trend of filmmakers who seem to believe that there’s something to be said for that kind of aesthetic.  And there is, when used properly.  It does manage to evoke a real sense of disorientation and claustrophobia, which was used well in movies like Disturbia, where it created empathy with the lead character who was himself trapped.  But when used throughout a movie, it comes off as being amateurish, at best, and, in the case of some of the more jarring action scenes in The Hunger Games, just plain distracting.

As I said, overall, as a stand-alone movie, it was better than a lot of what’s out there now, and what it lacked could have been fixed and, hopefully, will be with the sequels.  But how did it measure up as an adaptation?  Well, Collins had a real hand in it, and it remained more or less faithful to the plot of the novel, removing and changing things that were, mostly, okay.  It did, however, make some mistakes that may come back to haunt it later, such as not addressing the avox at all (if you haven’t read the book, you probably have no idea what I’m talking about and that’s the problem, right there).  As well, they never really very clearly explain the whole concept of trading extra names in the bowl for food and resources.  Hence the term Hunger Games.  For that matter, they didn’t quite get across the point that these people were literally starving very well, either, just that they were kinda poor.

Of all the changes, though, the one with which I had greatest issue was the characterization of Prim, Katniss’s sister.  In the novel, she was far more like her sister than her mother, being stoic and pragmatic beyond her years out of necessity.  The character in the movie, however, was mostly just a whiny, fragile thing that did a real disservice to who she was in the novels.  This is one of those points where, if they don’t do a very good job of shifting her character back, they may have some real issues down the line.

One a final note, if I may be a little less objective, I have to admit that I was, as a fan, a little disappointed with two things.  First, the girl on fire costume.  In the novel, it is a pivotal and powerfully written moment in the narrative.  It’s meant to be awe-inspiring, even to the jaded people in The Capitol.  The problem is, it was pretty underwhelming.  When they came out, I just kind of thought, “That’s it?”  I mean, come on, Hollywood.  All you ever want to do is set things on fire, why be understated now, damn it?

The other thing, and a much smaller one, was the way they handled the reaction of Rue’s district to her death.  In the novel, the impoverished people scrape together what they can and send Katniss a very simple gift, a loaf of bread.  It’s a deeply moving moment, much more so than the quickly quelled riot with which it was replaced.  You see, in the book, the effects of starvation, dehydration and sleep deprivation are a much larger issue.  The movie, as I mentioned before, tends to gloss over the realities of those sorts of things, which detracts from it as a whole.

Overall, it’s worth watching and it has real potential to knock it out of the park next time around.  The only real worry I have for the sequels is that, if they were too squeamish, for whatever reason, to show real, mass suffering in the first movie, what are they going to do as things continue to worsen for the oppressed people of the districts?