Having recently acquired them on BluRay for a very reasonable price, the better half and I have embarked on the now annual review of the Harry Potter movies.

I’m very much a casual consumer of the works of Rowling, but I always enjoy the early installments’ deliciously lighthearted depiction of suburban child abuse. And being reminded that the Ginger was quite funny before he buffed up.

We caught Deathly Hallows pt1, or Harry on Camping as the Kermode has dubbed it, last night. It’s about as far from a Chris Columbus movie as it’s possible for a film about teenage wizards to be.

There’s no Quidditch, no moving staircases and no patronising exposition from Grainger. In fact, there’s very little exposition at all. Rarely have I seen a motion picture so comfortable requiring such prior knowledge. The reliance on showing rather than telling is pleasing too. Chamber of Secrets particularly felt like a book being read to you for three hours, and there’s none of that here.

And on top of that, the pacing is fucking odd. Sure there are some nice setpieces to keep it moving, but the alluded to outdoor pursuits make for a second act which plays like an indie flick. There’s an hour long British mood poem at the heart of this blockbuster, and it’s weird.

But it’s good weird. It’s Dagobah cave in Empire Strikes Back weird. It continues last year’s pleasing trend of mainstream flicks crediting their audience with more than middle school smarts, and that’s a wonderful thing.