Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s/Sorcerer’s Stone
Here’s where it all began, first in 1997 and then again in 2001. It’s an origin story with a hell of an origin story: Jo Rowling dreams up a boy on a train, and by the time she deboards, he’s a wizard with a magical school in his future. After years of writing in cafés and typing (and re-typing) on an old-fashioned typewriter, of being turned down by agents who almost certainly now feel like they missed out on the chance to draft Michael Jordan, her novel was picked up by Bloomsbury and her whole life changed. She’s toured libraries, bookstores, classrooms, and movie theaters around the world. Accio, New York Times Bestseller list; Petrificus Totalus, the financial worries of a single mom.
Sure, all origin stories fit the same mold, but this is a solid one. It begins with a tragedy that’s also cause for celebration, then jumps to an unhappy child’s life suddenly becoming magical — literally. Is this the most profound entry in the Potter series? Of course not. This is the place in which we are introduced to not only Harry, but the entire wizarding world. No time for sociopolitical commentary; we’ve got Hagrid to meet.
While the biggest social and political themes in the series don’t emerge in full force for a bit yet, they’re still present here, from Harry’s first interaction with Draco Malfoy to the big moment where selflessness becomes the most important magic one can possess. Both possess a level of subtlety nowhere to be found in Chris Columbus’ 2001 film, a faithful adaptation that spends so much time trying to get the book just right that it forgets to add the most important ingredient in this particular potion: imagination.
Sure, this is a movie anchored by three very young, somewhat green performers, and that’s going to be a little tough, no matter how charming the kids in question. That’s nothing compared to how flat Columbus’ magical world feels. Take the moving staircases of Hogwarts as an example: one moment they lead to one place, the next to somewhere else entirely. There’s a trick step you always have to jump and shortcuts and false walls around every corner. How does Columbus bring these silly wonders to life? He has them slowly swing through the air like a giant piece of industrial equipment. How dull, how slow, how utterly not of this world.
Still, it’s not … terrible? Faint praise for the film version of a book that got the whole world reading.
Head Boy: The book, by a long shot.