Merlin's Beard! The Long Awaited Tara and Lisa and the Goblet of Fire Blog: Part One

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. 154 minutes, rated PG-13 for sequences of fantasy violence, frightening images, Ron saying "piss off," giant sexuality and creepy fetal nudity. Opens November 18th, 2005 so yes, this did take us over a month to complete. Shut up, we’re very busy and important.


A word to the wise – if you’re, hypothetically, debating in the car if you should wear your Gryffindor scarf into the theater, and some guy walks past you in an unruly black wig and round spectacles, you can rest assured that your scarf will not mark you for mockery. You are among friends. However, if you wear sorting hats AND bring books to read, some guy working for a newspaper will photograph you, and I will hate you for outdoing me.

Harry Potter movies are also excellent for eighteen flavors of Mom vs. Mom seat hostility. In some perversion of the natural instinct to protect one’s young we can observe the fierce instinct to get ones bratlings the best theater seats possible, even if it be at the expense of ones own senses of propriety and human dignity. Hilarious, really. Unless you get in the middle of such an encounter- it’s best to stay an uninvolved observer in these cases. Get there early and set up a blind of Goober boxes and popcorn bags so as not to disturb the delicate balance of nature.


Any movie that is based on a book is bound to be plagued by our arch nemesis: the Lecturing Scholar. These individuals can vary in age, volume and veracity; a single scholar can ruin a movie, and there is currently no screening process to weed them out. Under the guise of either helping out or showing off, they feel the need to name each character and explain in detail his or her importance to the plot, how the cast actor or actress differs from the scholar’s own mental image of him or her, and any memorable quotes from the book they can recall. As there are usually no outward physical symptoms of this condition, avoiding them during the seating process can be difficult: they do not reveal themselves until the theater is dark and the opening credits are rolling. The only remedy for an L.S. is the Anonymous Angry Shhh or, failing that, the Half Head Turn and Peripheral Vision Glare. Advanced individuals may feel comfortable combining these two techniques into an exceptionally effective silencing method, but your average moviegoer should practice at home before attempting this in public. It’s best to silence the L.S. rapidly and immediately lest he or she fall under the impression that anyone is interested in their undoubtedly encyclopedic knowledge of “who Nagini is.” Thanks for the tip- we read the books too. But we have the sense to keep our conspiracy theories to ourselves until we can elaborate on our blogs.

What conspiracy theories, you ask, even if you didn’t? Tara, for one, wants to know what’s up with the conspiracy against women in this movie. Here’s a probable conversation between author J.K. Rowling and GoF director Mike Newell.

MN: We need to cut out some time. Let’s lose Momma Weas, Cedric’s mom and Mrs. Crouch. While we’re at it, let’s make Moaning Myrtle and Rita Skitter creepy, creepy pedophiles.

JKR: That sounds fine, but don’t destroy too many female characters, because I did that a lil bit already. I made Fleur the most worthless champion. Harry’s mom is only in GoF because I needed someone to play the secretary announcing the arrival of Pappy Potter. Oh, and don’t forget that Nagini, the evil snake, is female.
MN and JKR slap each other five and call it a day.

One thing from the book that was (sort of) left in the movie was the Quidditch World Cup. If you don’t know what Quidditch is, we’re not exactly clear why you’re reading any of this. It’s only gonna be down the steep, slippery slope of nerd-dom from here on out. Some viewers were freaked by the Sonorus-ication of Fudge (see what we mean with the nerd?) while others were freaked by Vertigo Stadium, which hosted what little we saw of the QWC. They cut out most of the Quidditch for Ron’s recitation of ‘How Do I Love Thee, Krum? Let Me Count The Ways.’ Some contributors to this blog think that Ron is worthless. These individuals nearly wet their pants at the line “Ron Weasley, Harry Potter’s stupid friend,” and felt that it summed up their attitude perfectly. Others just kind of laugh and try to reiterate that book-Ron is really quite humorous and that also that he’s a fast runner. So Ron’s pretty much a mixed bag.


Some aspects come with an explanation for why they were cut, while others were added for no discernible reason. Case in point: the ceiling freak-out when Moody entered. Elements of Harry Potter movies should not confuse twenty four-year-olds. Also, how did young Barty Crouch Jr. know all the magic that Moody, an experienced auror, would know? Perhaps as a boy he held some sort of internship with The Man, or else was enrolled in some sort of fast track to the Upper Echelons of Ultimate Evil grooming program. The world may never know, or even wonder about it too much. Oh, and speaking of grooming- Crouch? The Hitler ‘stache went out for a reason. Please shave accordingly. At least we can be grateful that Sporadic Evil Snake Tongue is not a heritable trait. Unfortunately, his Chicklet front teeth à la Mr. Wilson in Dennis the Menace would be passed on to the next generation – and yes, feel free to marvel at the depth of my cultural allusions. Inexplicable random creepiness in lieu of actual story events: curious call, filmmakers.


By cutting straight to the QWC, we also miss out on our yearly Dursley fix. And in this book, that means no embarrassingly over-stamped letter, no busting of the wall in front of the fireplace, and no twins slipping Dudders the infamous toffee. In short, no magical bitchslap of the Dursleys at all, unfortunately. Since they didn’t have to pay the Dursley actors this year, you’d think they could’ve splurged and bought Dumbledore more than one effin’ robe for the entire movie. Surely his Muggle equivalent would have his own clothing line. Dumbledore’s Duds. Dumbledresses. “D.” Albie-D would definitely have been invited to many a friendly game of Butterbeer Beirut. His pimpin’ dress did nothing to cover the Butterbeer belly that was obviously cultivated with constant dedication to the art of the drink. The question remains: Butterbeer or Firewhiskey? One could guess that it depends on which choice could give his nail beds the creepy pallor of recent death they seemed to have. However, don’t ask Dumbledore about the estimated one billion rings he wore throughout the movie. He doesn’t like talking about his flair.


Hermione stated that the whole purpose of the Triwizard Tournament was to improve international magical cooperation. Not going to lie here: it’s a little difficult to take visiting schools seriously when their students either flounce around exhaling butterflies à la American Beauty or stomp around doing a magical dance with sparking pimpsticks. When did we have time to learn that, boys? Sample Durmstrang schedule: 8:00 - Charms; 10:00 - Potions; 1:30 - Tumbling and Dance.

Question: Why were the eventual champions not involved in the ShowOff-tacular designed to astound and amaze the students of Hogwarts? Answer: Dancing like a circus monkey does not an angry champion make. And Fleur didn’t want to wrinkle her satin whore outfit. ‘Nuff said.


In the next installment: HP goes mano a dragon, we cover some spells that should have been, expose some GenX disenfranchisement and play a little Dance Dance Revolution – Wizard Edition.