Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1 (2010), directed by David Yates, is one of the most underrated films within the franchise. The reasons are multiple, and most are direct consequences of the undeniable limits of adaptation. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows is the finale of J. K. Rowling’s series, about six hundred pages where a lot happens not just plot-wise, but within the characters as well. Not even splitting the film into two disparate parts, approximately two and a half hours each, permitted screenwriter Steve Kloves to include everything – or to try and resemble the narrative pace the book so brilliantly masters. Nonetheless, if we take part one as a piece of cinematic work, rather than just the piece of the bigger narrative, the film presents some beautiful features and interesting adapting choices.
Deathly Hallows: Part 1 is possibly the darkest film of the Harry Potter franchise. In the first minutes, one of the main themes of the story is (heartbreakingly) introduced as we see Hermione (Emma Watson) whispering “obliviate” behind her parents, her figure disappearing from every framed picture in the house: loneliness. Obliviate is, in fact, a spell that erases memory. What we see immediately after is a wide shot of Hermione leaving her house, probably for the last time. The camera draws back as she walks down a deserted road, as the film visually states that she is, now, alone. In the book this is only told to the readers by Hermione’s character during a conversation. The way the event is adapted in the film, especially the fact that Kloves chose this moment to be part of the opening sequence, perfectly sets the atmosphere in which the viewer will be immersed for the next two hours. Hermione’s scene is intercut with similar sequences of Ron (Rupert Grint) and Harry (Daniel Radcliffe), both presented in a shot that physically separates them from their relatives – Ron’s family inside the house as he is standing outside – the Dursleys departing from Privet Drive, leaving Harry there on his own. In the Harry Potter series, loneliness, both physical and spiritual, is a recurring theme. What makes it an outstanding main theme in Deathly Hallows: Part 1 is that this time it is not just Harry who experiences it. Harry’s character has experienced solitude before – one film that does a great job at showing this is Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (2004), where director Alfonso Cuaron creates some evident physical space between him and the other characters in shots. In terms of the story, the reader knows why Harry feels that way: he is the chosen one, the only one able to destroy Lord Voldemort; he has tasks to complete that he cannot share with anyone else; also, he has no family, as his parents are dead. Three reasons that are already enough for him to feel different from anyone else of his age, as it’s clearly described in the books through narration from Harry’s perspective. In Deathly Hallows, these feeling are peaking: Dumbledore (a father figure for the boy) has been killed by Snape, a Death Eater and now Hogwarts’s new headmaster; Voldemort’s army is on the rise, his main aim to kill Harry and to build a new social order where only pure-blood wizards can live. People are being kidnapped and murdered. Harry has no home anymore, no safe place to hide. He has only one mission: to find the seven Horcruxes holding Lord Voldemort’s soul. He does not know where they are or what they look like or how to destroy them. He only knows that whoever will try to help him is going to risk their life. This constant awareness accompanies him from the start of the journey to find Horcruxes, since Ron and Hermione depart with him. And this is the point. If, before Deathly Hallows, Harry was the main character to live this experience of isolation, now Hermione and Ron do, too.
In part one of the film, some elegant choices were made to render the solitude and despair each of the three characters experiences along the way. With no place to hide and a quest to pursue, Harry, Ron, and Hermione are constantly on the run through England’s most desolate suburbs and deserted countryside. The only contact they have with the world is through Ron’s radio. It is Ron who struggles the most not knowing what is going on in the wizarding world, since he, unlike Harry and Hermione, has still got a family. The metallic voice of the radio is a permanent soundtrack in the journey’s sequence, stating the names of the dead and the disappeared. In the silence of their solitude, there is only one other sound: the noise of the Horcrux. As they are traveling, the characters already have one Horcrux – a locket, which, for safety reasons, they carry around their neck in turns. Horcruxes are dark magic objects, and as a consequence they affect those who carry them. In the book, the locket is described as not making any sound. The narrative focuses on how it affects characters, making them feel “clammy,” like there was a heavy weight pressing on their stomach, making everything they think or feel worse. In the film, this is translated by switching the POV to the character who’s wearing it, making the audience hear what they hear – a disturbing, distorted whistle over a permanent white noise, similar to the sound of an alarm going off, but so subtle that one may not notice it unless it is explicitly addressed. And yet the din is there, “polluting” the sound in the film, as much as it is polluting its bearer’s mind. We see this primarily in Ron, the one who is most affected by it, isolated by the permanent noise. A brilliant choice of sound editing to make the audience feel what he is feeling. But what best conveys this haunting loneliness all three characters are experiencing is the film’s beautiful use of extreme wide shots, where they are nothing but little figures in a wider, deserted landscape. An empty field, an abandoned caravan park, a lonely bridge under a gray sky (Figure 2). A montage of abandoned spaces where everything in the picture is still, apart from their three moving silhouettes, the only living presences.
The lonely atmosphere is even more emphasized after Ron leaves. One of the most touching parts of the story, perhaps. In particular, the pain Hermione experiences after Ron’s departure is never addressed verbally in the film – it is shown, through extreme wide shots of more deserted landscapes, Hermione the only figure, standing outside the tent, alone (Figure 1). It is shown through an EWS of a dry, rocky surface, a slow close-up toward two tiny figures, one moving, one still; then, a cut to a medium shot of Harry, the moving figure, casting the protective spells around their tent, while Hermione sits far away in the background. There is a growing physical distance between the two of them, too, who are rarely shown close to each other in the following shots. There is one scene in particular – not part of the book – that does a great job in terms of characters’ expression. One night, while Harry is standing outside the tent, he hears music coming from within. As he comes in, he finds Hermione sitting down, listening to Ron’s radio as a song is playing. Hesitating, he first sits down on a chair on the side, staring at her (Figure 3). Then he stands up. He goes to Hermione, takes the Horcrux off of her neck and takes her by the hands, silently inviting her to slow dance. They both seem awkward and uncomfortable at first. Then they slowly loosen up, goofily dancing together, forgetting for a moment all the bad that is happening. This is the first scene in the film in which they laugh, and it is the only musical sequence of this kind in the entire franchise. The first carefree moment in months. We can only hear the music playing, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds’ song “O Children.” No distorted whistle, no white noise in the background. It lasts for about two minutes. As the music fades out, returning a distant diegetic sound coming from the radio, Harry and Hermione look at each other: their faces turn serious, and they physically separate again. A lot has been said and discussed about this scene, and its essence has been praised by both director David Yates and actress Emma Watson. Most striking about it is the scene’s reality: carried away by the continuous action of the film, the audience, but also the characters themselves, tend to forget that Harry and Hermione are seventeen years old, dealing with a situation much bigger than they. Mostly, they are doing it alone. This scene encapsulates a moment where time seems to stop, where they allow themselves to forget about all their worries and enjoy those few minutes with each other. The way in which it ends, so sour, with Hermione pulling away, makes it even more real. As if they remembered, together, what they are going through. As if the present weighed on them again, heavier than before. And so Hermione leaves Harry standing there, and they are both alone again. The sense of isolation they experience is never verbally expressed in the film – and yet, it is so evident.
Author Biography
Costanza Chirdo graduated in English and Media from Goldsmiths University of London in 2021. She is now pursuing an MSc in Strategies of Political and Public Communication at the School of Political Science “Cesare Alfieri,” University of Florence, alongside working as a freelance journalist. She writes articles about culture, society, and entertainment.
