In the first half-hour of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, director Mike Newell strains to inject magic and whimsy before doom and gloom arrive to stay. The resulting, ostentatious effect suggests what would happen if Cirque du Soleil set up shop in Hogwarts, but once the plot of the 157-minute film kicks in, the unstoppable Potter franchise proves to be in passable shape. If Newell's direction lacks distinction and coherence, Rowling's world is still ornate and bizarre enough to hold attention.
This fourth entry in the series finds new-to-Potter Newell (Mona Lisa Smile) subsuming himself to the Rowling-friendly non-style of Chris Columbus; after Alfonso Cuarón's superior third chapter (Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban), Newell's lack of daring is nearly deadly. The familiarly busy plot observes the darkening trend of the series' themes, with rifts between friends and convincingly mortal threats as Harry represents Hogwarts School in a mysteriously rigged TriWizard Tournament.
The now-teenage Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) intriguingly faces the spectre of broader unpopularity, and why not (shouldn't at least as many people be jealous of the boy wonder as awestruck by him)? As many in Hogwarts shun him, Harry must also gird his loins for the possibility of romantic rejection--the dreaded, "well-mannered frivolity" of the Yule Ball means Harry and best buds Ron (Rupert Grint) and Hermione (Emma Watson) must all score dance-worthy dates. Surprisingly, and despite Newell's tepid treatment, these concerns generate more drama and interest than the ostensibly thrilling mystery of who's after Harry this time (could it beeee...Voldemort?).
As always, the roster of Brit talent impresses, with Brendan Gleeson, Miranda Richardson, and Ralph Fiennes the latest to queue up. With equal parts humor and menace, Gleeson embodies one-legged, one-eyed Alastair Moody, the latest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher (the actor's growly lack of restraint befits the story's inherent cruelty). Back in the crowded bullpen are Michael Gambon, Maggie Smith, Robbie Coltrane, Jason Isaacs, Alan Rickman, and Timothy Spall (my faves: Robert Hardy and Gary Oldman, the latter squandered in a CGI cameo). The new characters among the students make uninspired but adequate placeholders.
Regular screenwriter Steve Kloves fails to clarify why teachers would sanction so sadistic a competition as the TriWizard Tournament, and he equivocates as to the mortality of the threats the teens face. The story's lurching movement owes to editing given more to hustling expediency than natural flow (the film's opening "Quidditch World Cup" scene, for example, feels sadly perfunctory and flat), but the three memorable thrill-spill events of the Tournament goose the film along to its mythological showdown between Harry and He Who Must Not Be Named.
A student notes of a flying carriage, "There's something you don't see everyday!", but Newell's film—unlike its predecessors—fails to generate fresh wonder. Fans will drool, but "muggles" (a.k.a. the uninitiated) will find nothing to challenge their assumption that Harry Potter is not for them; the Potter-nal narrative labyrinth has never been less inviting. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire may be the weakest entry to date, but on balance Rowling's creative opus—roiling with hormonal consequences and eye-popping effects—continues to earn its crowds.