This is one of the better book-to-film adaptations I’ve seen in a long time, maybe one of my favorite ever, mostly because of the way the material is tackled. The writers who worked on this film (including author of the books Suzanne Collins, something I think really makes a difference) managed a true feat: staying true to the spirit of the book (and a surprising volume of the details) without appearing slavish to any kind of verbatim re-creation. Sure, some of the oft-quoted lines were taken out or edited, but that really didn’t matter in the scheme of things, because The Hunger Games film functions as more than a repetition of Collins’ novel—there is a very real, and very terrifying, message embedded in the film about our own culture, and a haunting quality that stems from the question of how far we really are as a society from an invention like the Hunger Games.
One of the virtues of the novel, and one that was cited early on, is its cinematic potential. In many ways The Hunger Games book unfolds like a film, with a steadily rolling pace and imagery that stands to be even more fully realized on the screen. No adaptation is without its challenges, however, and a concern of mine (and of many others) was whether it would be possible to really convey the parts of the story taking place almost entirely in Katniss’ head, particularly the nuances of her feelings and motivations during several significant moments. First-person narration itself is always a difficult thing to translate to film, and yet the writers manage it with relatively few bumps in the road. Of course, those of us who worried Katniss might be somehow misrepresented or flattened on the silver screen clearly underestimated the considerable talents of Jennifer Lawrence. As someone who re-read the novel very recently, having it as a supplement to her performance was far less necessary than I’d assumed it would be; she plays the role with a palpable commitment and disappears almost entirely into the character, far exceeding my already high expectations.
And Lawrence certainly doesn’t give the only impressive performance. The cast, which sounded somewhat dubious on paper when I first read about it, works surprisingly well both together and individually. Stanley Tucci is fantastic in a role he seems born to play, as charismatic Games personality Caesar Flickerman; Woody Harrelson balances cynicism and comic relief as Katniss and Peeta’s “mentor” Haymitch; and Elizabeth Banks is unrecognizable (in a good way) as Effie Trinket. Additionally, who knew Lenny Kravitz could act? This was the casting decision that seemed the most illogical to me, yet somehow his performance as Cinna was easily one of my favorites. As for the lead trio, while they certainly manage to keep pace with their adult counterparts, it’s hard to not feel a little bad for Josh Hutcherson (Peeta) and Liam Hemsworth (Gale), neither of whom can really hope to compete with Lawrence talent-wise (though Hutcherson improves drastically as the film progresses), although I’m sure their newfound status as international heartthrobs (seriously, you should see some of the stuff on the interwebs about these two) will provide some comfort.
This film also manages some impressive character work, which is an accomplishment with such a large cast and a vast scope of events to cover in 2.5 hours. I like that we see some unexpectedly humanizing moments from a few surprising sources, most notably some of those characters who in the book are cast simply as one-dimensional villains. There is a great moment about a minute into the Hunger Games carnage (and man, can we just appreciate for a second that the brutality was toned down in the interest of ratings?), when Katniss finds herself face to face with another competitor at the edge of the woods. Both girls just kind of stare at each other for a few seconds, both of them knowing they’re “supposed” to take advantage of the opportunity and attempt to slaughter each other, but neither is able to bring herself to do it just yet. They wind up running off their separate ways, and though the other girl later dies without much fanfare, it is interesting to see the internal struggle Katniss is enduring mirrored in the face of a character we’re supposed to be rooting against. There’s also an interesting moment (and one that is an invention of the film) with Cato, who throughout the film is the overwhelmingly brutish, violent competitor who can’t seem to wait to get into the arena and begin slaughtering his fellow tributes. He and Peeta have a struggle, and he goads Katniss to simply shoot them both, as he is fatally wounded already. He then makes a few remarks to the effect that his life has been wasted in preparation for this moment, and there, blood hemorrhaging from his mouth, he looks just as devastatingly human as Katniss or Peeta. In the novel it’s easy to dismiss him as deserving to die (and yeah, he is responsible for a whole mess of other deaths), but including this moment in the film further drives home the idea that even in such a straightforward game, there really is nothing completely black and white.
Of course, one of the necessary virtues of a great book-to-film adaptation is the latter’s ability to present key scenes “exactly how you imagined it” with that little pinch of movie magic to take it to the next level. Several of these instances stand out for me in the film, the first of which is the way the character of Rue and her encounters with Katniss are handled. I’ve read complaints that some viewers felt short-changed by the amount of time spent focusing on this, but I think given the time constraints the filmmakers capture the essence of these scenes perfectly. Rue’s death and Katniss’ subsequent renewed determination comprise a turning point in the novel, and the same is true of the film. The reaping is another scene that truly came across how I pictured it when reading. The tension and the silent salute from District 12 when Katniss walks onto the stage is captured perfectly, as is the entire grim atmosphere of the event. But probably my favorite among these is the climactic moment when the rules of the game are changed for the second time, forcing Katniss and Peeta to the realization that they now have to try and kill each other after spending days working as a team. The plan with the berries is perfectly executed, and the moment right before they plunge into mutually assured destruction is a more powerful representation of their relationship than any prior kissing or cuddling (or cheesy lines)—Peeta’s face especially is just heartbreaking; but perhaps the best thing about this moment is that, despite knowing exactly what was going to happen, I was right on the edge of my seat.
In what is probably my favorite alteration from the text, the film allows us much more insight into what’s going on outside of the arena, particularly from the viewpoint of the “gamemaker” who dictates pretty much everything that happens to the kids thrown into the fight-to-the-death tournament. This adds a layer to the narration that simply couldn’t be provided via Katniss’ first-person narration in the novel, showing us rather than telling us why the Games have become such an integral part of Panem’s culture and exactly who the real puppet masters are. The film’s political aspect is also both intriguing and disturbing: we get to see the reactions in the “outlying” districts (translation: the resource-rich but financially plagued ones) to events going on in the Games, and the escalating rumblings of unrest (those will become very important in the next two films). What this also achieves, and this is something I found myself pondering as the credits rolled, is breaking down that last degree of removal from the story that we as moviegoers often feel. Let me try to clarify: when we watch a film about something particularly disastrous or upsetting, our many psychological protective measures kick in, reminding us that it’s just a story, it’s fiction and has nothing to do with us. But The Hunger Games shoves its reality in the viewer’s face, not in a preachy or over-the-top way, but subtly: you see the vapid audience in the Capitol, watching the Games and eating up every carefully scripted development, and it’s not a far leap to think of the audience at an American Idol finale or the SuperBowl. It’s not a far leap at all to consider our society’s always-increasing desensitization when it comes to violence or the exploitation of other people’s misery, and to think about whether some future incarnation of us (and maybe one not terribly far down the road) actually might thirst so rabidly for a fresh form of entertainment that something like the Hunger Games would slip from that comforting realm of Complete Fiction and into our reality.
I could probably say a few dozen more things about this film (like spotlighting the skillful foreshadowing of what’s to come in the next two films, or my short list of minor complaints, or talking about the musical score), but this review doesn’t need to be any longer than it already is. Suffice it to say I think this is a film that achieves something not many book adaptations (and certainly even fewer young adult adaptations) do, which is presenting a film that works not only as a faithful interpretation of its source material, but as a well-crafted film with a message that is, at times, eerily relevant.
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