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The Hunger Games: Movie Review

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You may not know this about me, but I have connections. Namely, this guy. Thanks to his press status (he’s the movie critic for our local newspaper), he scored two press passes to see The Hunger Games on Wednesday.  I know we usually stick to books here at STACKED, but I figured this film was big enough to merit a review.
Overall: I really, really liked it. This is one of the better movie adaptations of a novel that I’ve seen. It stays true enough to the book to please most fans, but it doesn’t follow it so closely that it becomes awkward or tedious. Film and paper are two very different media formats, and changes need to be made from one to the other to make a successful adaptation. Luckily, the Hunger Games does it right.
Perhaps the “change” that I most appreciated in the movie is the inclusion of the gamemakers’ actions during the Games themselves. Due to Katniss’ first-person narration in the novel, we’re unable to see what it is exactly that the gamemakers are doing. Sure, Katniss tells us a little bit of what must be going on, but it’s not the same as seeing it. In the movie, the camera will often cut away from the Games to show us the gamemakers at work: creating fireballs to hurtle at Katniss, engineering vicious dogs to sic on the tributes, placing a tree in Katniss’ path. It gives the moviegoer a chance to see some very cool futuristic technology that isn’t as present in the book.
This is a slick production. The sets, costumes, and special effects are all very lavish and very detailed. It all screams “blockbuster” – as it should. The first shots of the Capitol are nearly breathtaking, as Peeta remarks. The costumes on the Capitol’s denizens are just the right amount of ridiculous. The “girl on fire” costume that Katniss wears during the tribute parade is perhaps not as amazing as I was hoping, but it was still pretty neat to look at. The arena – filmed in exotic Asheville, North Carolina – is beautiful, too, in a very deadly way. The Hunger Games is a pretty film with much to draw the eye.
I think what most people will be talking about after seeing the film, though, is the acting. The two male leads are kind of duds (mediocre, but inoffensive), but Jennifer Lawrence as Katniss was an inspired casting choice. She channels a bit of her character Ree from Winter’s Bone, frequently remaining silent but able to communicate a lot through her face and body language without making it seem like she’s emoting. Thanks to the book’s first-person POV, we get inside Katniss’ head very easily there; Lawrence is able to do the same thing to the viewing audience without the benefit of an inner monologue, which is mighty impressive.
The supporting cast does a terrific job too. The roles of Seneca Crane and President Snow have both been beefed up for the film, which I liked. Crane was almost a nonentity to the me in the book, so much so that I didn’t even remember what his role was when I read Catching Fire. Here, he is interesting. He gets a few key scenes with President Snow that help demonstrate his own motivations as well as Snow’s.
Effie is mainly there for comic relief, which isn’t a bad thing. Elizabeth Banks is a scene-stealer. She’s got some really funny lines that keep the movie from being completely depressing, which I always appreciate. I’ve read some people complain about Haymitch, but I thought he was solidly portrayed as well. Lenny Kravitz as Cinna is equally good. And Stanley Tucci as Caesar Flickerman has the most batshit insane camera smile you will ever see.
And Rue. Oh Rue. She’s adorable and easy to like, and her death is wrenching. It hurts to see her die and to see Katniss’ reaction to it, but the full impact of it isn’t felt until we see District 11 rioting over it, fighting the peacekeepers, prompted by a man whom I assume is Rue’s father.
The only thing that I really disliked about the film was its overuse of the “shaky cam” technique. It’s used consistently during the Games themselves, and I assume it was done at least in part to keep the rating PG-13. If the camera remained still, the audience would get a much better view of the violence. As it is, though, it was sometimes difficult to tell exactly what was going on. And the technique was also used as the potential tributes walked to the Reaping ceremony – not necessary for rating purposes. It got to the point where I wanted to look away until the camera was steadied again. I am not a fan of this technique.
I have to mention just one more thing that has nothing to do with the film, really, but instead the audience’s reaction to it. I was in a packed theater full of fans, and they were all very enthusiastic. So it makes sense that they would cheer when something good happens to Katniss, yes? There were cheers when Thresh saved Katniss by taking out another tribute, when Cato finally kicked it, and when Katniss and Peeta won the Games. Cheering and applauding for the death of children is nice, isn’t it? Doesn’t it make you think a little bit of the spectators in the Capitol, choosing favorites, making bets, cheering and booing the tributes? Doesn’t it make you feel a little bit like the audience is just another pawn in the Games?
(That was your deep thought for the day. I hope you appreciate it.)

What I’m Reading Now

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The Traitor in the Tunnel by Y. S. Lee
Mary Quinn is back, this time posing as a maid at Buckingham Palace so she can investigate some petty thefts for Queen Victoria. What should be a small but delicate job turns into something much more serious when the Prince of Wales is involved in a scuffle with a Lascar and a friend of his ends up dead. The Lascar in question just may be Mary’s father, a man she has never met and presumed dead all her life. Everything I loved about the first two novels in this series reappears here: historical detail that doesn’t ever seem tedious, a plot that surprises me, and the ever-engaging Mary Quinn as protagonist. James Easton also returns. I’m excited about the fact that this case seems much more personal for Mary than the last two.

Incarnate by Jodi Meadows
I had heard the buzz about this book leading up to its publication, but what really made me want to read it was Lenore’s review. One of my favorite books of all time is Biting the Sun, a duology by Tanith Lee about a future society where death is impossible – once dead, people’s consciousnesses are simply removed from the shell and placed into a new body of their choosing. You can read all about my love for it here. Incarnate seems to have a similar conceit, so I’m interested to see how it compares.

Perception by Kim Harrington
Clarity was a surprise favorite of mine last summer, so I was eager to pick up its sequel, particularly since the weather in Texas has gotten warm enough for hammock reading. I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s just wrong to read this series unless you can do it outside in the sun. In this volume, Clare starts to receive some notes from a secret admirer that later take a decidedly sinister turn. The trademark snarky voice that I loved so much is back, making this a thoroughly enjoyable read.

The Book of Blood and Shadow by Robin Wasserman
I wrote a little bit about this one in my Midwinter recap. I’m only a few pages in, but so far I’m really digging the budding mystery involving letters from a young woman who lived centuries ago and how it connects to the present-day murder that the protagonist has so far only alluded to. (Also, for the first fifty pages, I read “Adriane” as “Ariadne” and I kind of wish I hadn’t realized I was reading it wrong. Ariadne just seems so much more appropriate for this kind of story.)

The List by Siobhan Vivian

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The Monday of Homecoming week at Mount Washington High School is when the annual list shows up. It’s written anonymously and has on it the names of two girls from each grade: one who is the prettiest and one who is the ugliest. For all eight girls, being put on the list changes their status at school, despite the fact none of them choose to be included. Suddenly, they’re all in the spotlight.

Siobhan Vivian’s The List is a story about the eight girls on this year’s list and what being put on that list does to them.

There are eight voices in this book and each of them is unique and fully developed. It’s in third person present tense, and it works — rather than being inside the heads of each of these girls first hand, we’re getting more objective understandings of each because we’re removed from them. Vivian excels in writing tight prose that elevates and rounds out the characters, but she does so without forcing the reader to believe one thing or another about them through the story; they’re dynamic.

When readers are dropped in the story, the characters are just learning they’ve been put on the list. That means the first interactions we have with the characters are emotional ones: Abby, prettiest freshman, is pleased to find herself on the list but immediately worries how her older sister Fern will react; Danielle, ugliest freshman, has just reunited with her football playing boyfriend Andrew after a summer apart and now being called out as not only the ugliest girl but as “Dan the Man” has her worried how much longer he’ll hang around; sophomore ugliest Candace is trying to make sense of going from being one of the prettiest to becoming one of the ugliest in just a year and keep her friends in line with their elaborate Homecoming plans; Lauren, the prettiest sophomore, is adjusting to being at a normal high school after spending her life as a homeschooler; Sarah, the ugliest junior, doesn’t care she’s made the list because appearances aren’t her thing at all; prettiest junior Bridget went through a dramatic physical transformation over the last summer due to a worsening eating disorder; senior ugliest, Jennifer, has made a school record in being the only girl to appear on the list four years running, though it’s not necessarily a badge of honor; and finally, Margo, prettiest senior, takes this as a sign she’ll follow in her sister’s footsteps and become Homecoming Queen but she’s quickly approached by the principal, as he’s suspicious that she knows the truth behind the list. He wants answers and he trusts her to deliver them.

As the week progresses, we learn these girls are a lot more complex than their labels suggest. I found myself invested in some girls more than others. I don’t find that to be the fault of the writing, but rather, the fact that some characters spoke to me more than others. In particular, I thought Sarah’s story was extremely compelling — she’s okay with being the ugly girl. More than okay, in fact, as she owns it and displays it. She chooses to go without showering as sort of a sign that the person or people behind this list were right. Sarah is the loud representation of everything that’s wrong with the list: she’s proving the point she can become what people want to believe if they go by appearance alone. Deep down, she’s a hurting girl and she’s complex, but that’s not what the people around her way to know her as. They only care that she’s unattractive. Her owning it is as much of a middle finger to the people around her as it is a defense mechanism for the pain she’s carrying.

On the opposite end, I also found myself quite invested in Bridget’s story, too. She’s gained her notoriety as the pretty girl through her eating disorder. For her, being on the list is almost confirmation of the way she’s treated herself, and it’s also almost motivating, since she doesn’t find herself stopping the behavior, either. Whereas the “fame” gives Sarah a way to rebel, it gives Bridget a sense of purpose. The other character I found myself drawn to was Danielle — her relationship with her boyfriend hurt to watch. Not because he didn’t treat her well, but because he becomes pressured by his teammates to reconsider his involvement with the girl deemed ugliest in the school. The list had power to not only impact the girls who made it, one way or another, but it impacted those who knew the girls, too.

The List explores the power of labeling, as well as the power of identifying with or rejecting them. Of course, the labeling is a small aspect of it, since the story is much more about appearance and the power beauty does or doesn’t have in defining people. Vivian does a good job of keeping the story very much high school. There are big issues here, but it never comes across as inauthentic. Because this story takes place over the course of Homecoming, the big event plays into the story and grounds it. It’s a time when emotions are already a little heightened, but the list only amplifies them. Also playing a role in the story is the fact the list is anonymous. There are plenty of ideas of who could be behind it, but there aren’t many strong leads, except for the fact whoever creates and distributes the list has — or has access to — an official school seal, which is placed on each of the copies.

For me, this is Vivian’s strongest book yet. It combines her ability to develop full characters with strong writing and an engaging premise. More than that, though, it not only tackles the complex issues of labeling and appearance well, but it also tackles a slew of other issues within each of the individuals without ever making them stereotypes nor flat, single-issue people. This book will appeal to fans of Vivian’s other books, and it’ll appeal to teen readers who like strong contemporary stories that are very much about high school life. While I don’t dismiss the fact there will be male readers who can enjoy this story, I definitely see this having higher appeal to female readers, and in part, that’s because the characters are relatable. I can see teen girls finding themselves in at least one, if not more, of these stories. This is the kind of book that’s made for a book discussion because there is a lot to dig into and talk about. The List is also partially inspired and in the spirit of the classic Cormier title, The Chocolate War, which gives it even more to dig into.

Previously: 
Review of Siobhan Vivian’s Same Difference
Review of Siobhan Vivian’s Not That Kind of Girl
Twitterview with Siobhan Vivian 

Review copy received from the publisher. The List will be available April 1.

Three Takes on Isolation: Mini Reviews

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Admittedly, the title is a little misleading, but I was trying to think of a way to tie together these three book reviews, and the one thing I kept coming back to was the feeling a bit isolated. I think it’s maybe a bit of a strong word, but in each of these stories, the main character feels removed from his/her world in some way. So here are three shorter reviews with three characters dealing with being on the outside. Kind of.

Nina LaCour’s sophomore novel The Disenchantments follows Colby as he pursues his post-graduation dream of hitting the road with his best girl Bev’s band, The Disenchantments. Colby’s not in the band himself but is one of their roadies. After their stint along the west coast, the two of them plan on ditching America for a year-long travel extravaganza in Europe. So they can get out together and see the world before doing the college/job thing. The thing is, as soon as their trip along the coast begins, Bev drops the bomb: she’s ditching their plans to travel. She wants to do her own thing.

Colby feels cheated now and he’s hurt. He’d planned his post-school life around Bev, knowing they’d made this promise to one another. Much as it’d be easy for him to ditch her and the band now, he doesn’t. Instead, he uses this as the opportunity to figure out who Bev is, what his relationship with her really is, and maybe most important, he has to figure himself out. What will he do now that the plans he’d prepared for are suddenly tossed out the window?

LaCour’s book took me a really long time to get into, and even when I was finally able to fall into the story, I never found myself connecting emotionally with the characters. I liked Colby, and I believed his loss when Bev tells him she wants to do her own thing after the tour. However, I didn’t find myself necessarily invested in him. Colby was good enough but he didn’t compel me beyond that moment. He’s stuck in the past of what he and Bev were (understandably) but it takes him way too long to move forward and upward. Because of that, the novel is slow and has little forward movement for quite a long time. I also wasn’t entirely sold on Colby’s voice, but because I liked him enough and I liked the premise of a story where a girl breaks the boy’s heart, I let it go.

Colby feels himself isolated now, and he comes to realize that resting his own future upon the future of someone else wasn’t very smart. When he finally wakes up and realizes the world is sort of before him, the book does move forward. The Disenchantments sort of reminded me of Kirsten Hubbard’s Wanderlove when it comes to the ideas of the importance of travel and exploration, both of the physical world and of the internal, personal one. LaCour’s writing is good, despite the challenges I had, and this book will no doubt appeal to fans of music and travel.

Brian F. Walker’s Black Boy, White School offers up another male voice in a story about Anthony (Ant), who lives in East Cleveland. It’s not a nice area, and he too often knows the victims of the neighborhood’s violence. It’s not just that, though. His family’s not necessarily the most stable either, and he and his mother want nothing more than for Ant to escape this place so he can have a brighter future. That future comes in the form of Belton Academy, where Ant’s been given a scholarship and an opportunity to start fresh. Belton’s deep in Maine, so it’ll be a huge change for him, and it’s a huge culture shock when he gets there.

Ant’s used to being the black boy in a sea of other people who look like him, but at Belton, he’s a minority, and he feels it acutely. Much of what he feels is real, but a lot of it comes from his own mind. He’s having a hard time adjusting to life at the new school and in a new social world. Yeah, there is some racism and discrimination, but the bigger issue at hand is really the one in Ant’s own head. He doesn’t feel good enough and that’s NOT because of the racism/discrimination, but his own past keeping him back.

Walker’s story lacks in writing, though, and because it’s told in third person past, there’s a level of being removed from the story. I never connected much with Ant, and I felt like most of the characters weren’t well fleshed out. The moments where there should have been emotional intensity, there just wasn’t. However, I give Walker credit with the story here, and I think that’s what will make this book resonate with teen readers. It’s reminiscent of Walter Dean Meyers, and I believe reluctant readers will enjoy this title, too. The urban life will feel real and I think the kids who will appreciate this story will be the ones who come from and understand a world where poverty, violence, and drugs are prevalent and almost unavoidable. Although it’s not as strong as Quick’s Boy21, there were many similarities in the two stories and this title could be a nice lead in to giving Quick’s a try.

Emily M Danforth’s The Miseducation of Cameron Post weighs in at almost 500 pages, and while I’m usually a believer in cutting down a story that big, I’m not sure what could be taken out of this one and still have it be successful. As soon as the book opens, Cameron loses her parents in a car wreck and she’s almost happy about it because it means she doesn’t have to tell them what she’s done. She’s kissed a girl.

Let me back up and say this is 1989 in rural Montana, so it’s kind of a big deal she’s done that. Except — and this is a big except — she’s not going to get off easy at all. Cameron’s being sent to live with her aunt Ruth who is extremely conservative. The girl Cameron kissed is kind of out of the picture.

Fast forward to 1991 and Coley moves to the same town Cameron lives in, and now she and Cameron are seeing one another. They’re more than friends. They’re feeling things much more intensely, and when they think things are going to be okay, that their feelings and their time together has been well-covered, it’s not. The secret hasn’t been hidden at all.

Cameron’s aunt decides to take action and send Cameron to God’s Promise to fix her. It’s a conservative church program to degay Cameron. And while there’s ripe opportunity for this to become a story where there is a right and a wrong, where the Promise program is made into the sort of thing that readers would laugh at, Danforth is successful in making it a place that’s scary but not unrealistic nor judged as entirely wrong (even if we as readers know it is).

This is a book about being isolated physically and emotionally, as Cameron is unable to fit into her conservative family and world because she’s a lesbian. But more than that, Cameron herself sort of struggles with what her sexuality is, if it’s anything at all. The experience at Promise, which is rapt with all sorts of less-than-angelic behavior from her and other attendees, puts more questions than answers in her mind. It’s well-done, despite being lengthy. And I think the ending of this book might be one of my favorite endings in a long time — it ties the story right back to Cameron’s loss and grief over losing her parents and her freedom in exploring who she really is. The ending made the problematic elements work for me.

The Miseducation of Cameron Post, as I mentioned, was long, and even though I don’t know if anything is extraneous or in need of editing, I found that it was slow paced and took a long time to get into. Moreover, it’s a quieter story, despite tackling a large issue. That’s not in and of itself problematic, but given the quiet nature and the fact this book is set in a quiet world and the fact it’s set in the early 1990s makes me question whether it will have wide teen appeal. I see this as a true coming of age novel that adults may find themselves enjoying a lot more than teens. While the time period is a framing device for local events that sink the story into the setting, it didn’t work for me. I also found many of the secondary characters, particularly those at Promise, to be a little thinly developed. Cameron herself, however, was a well-done and rounded character.

All copies provided by the publisher and all titles are available now.

Same Narrator, Very Different Experiences

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Like most audiobook listeners, I have some narrators I love: Jim Dale, Barbara Rosenblat, almost anyone at Full Cast Audio. Then there are some who are just duds, who can turn a good book into an annoying or even miserable experience.

And then there are narrators who can do both. Kirsten Potter is my most recent experience with this phenomenon. About a year ago, I listened to the production of Kirby Larson’s Hattie Big Sky and was unimpressed. I wasn’t hugely thrilled with the story itself, but the narration dragged the book down even further. I thought Potter’s voice for Hattie sounded much too old for the youthful protagonist, and her accents for ancillary characters sounded overwrought and false. Overall, it wasn’t what I would consider a good production.
Then on a whim, I picked up Christina Meldrum’s Madapple, without knowing or caring who narrated it. As I listened, I recognized the voice, but the effect was very different this time. Meldrum’s book has a sleepy, somewhat haunting feel to it, and Potter’s voice is a perfect match. There are no fake accents, and it doesn’t seem like Potter is an adult mimicking a child because the character of Aslaug is so different from Hattie. Potter expertly makes me feel for Aslaug, and her voice keeps me riveted to the story, despite the fact that as a contemporary realistic novel, it’s something I’d usually avoid. Meldrum’s writing combines with Potter’s narration to make Madapple seem almost like a fantasy. It’s a very atmospheric story which fits Potter’s low tones much better than did Hattie Big Sky.
Do you have this relationship with any narrators you’ve listened to? It’s the first time I can remember where my reactions have been almost polar opposites of each other, and I’m curious to know if I’m alone in this.