The Hunger Games
The Hunger Games, based on the first of the hit young-adult novels by Suzanne Collins, posits a dystopian future where teenagers must fight to the death for the entertainment of the masses. It’s an altogether more nihilistic proposition than the Anglophilic derring-do of Harry Potter or the sub-Harlequin torment of Twilight, but it’s also a fairly common trope (remember The Running Man to Death Race 2000?). The main difference is the YA spin — even Kinji Fukasaku’s Japanese-teens-killing-each-other-for-our-amusement flick, Battle Royale, to which this will be compared, isn’t meant for kids. But this blockbuster aimed straight at teens also displays the patience of a real grown-up picture.
Jennifer Lawrence (Winter’s Bone) plays Katniss Everdeen, the impoverished 16-year-old super-archer who ends up as a contender in the so-called Hunger Games after volunteering to take her younger sister’s place. Josh Hutcherson is Peeta Mellark, a baker’s son with a thing for Katniss. Together they travel from their gritty mining town, one of 12 enslaved districts, to the shining center of this futuristic empire to contend in the deadly games, which started as a kind of punishment for the unruly regions.
The power centers in the film are represented by elaborate costumes and set designs, with the upper classes looking like refugees from The Fifth Element. The competition itself has been designed by Seneca Crane (Wes Bentley), a preening artist fond of his elaborately fatal and endlessly malleable woodland playground. The whole thing is broadcast to the oppressed nation, with flamboyant Caesar Flickerman (Stanley Tucci) the host. Hanging over the proceedings is that there can be only one winner. Of the 24 kids chosen for the games, 23 will have to die — and die horribly.
The director isn’t an action auteur but rather Gary Ross, the man who gave us Seabiscuit and Pleasantville. That turns out to be a good thing. His screenplay and direction cut smartly through the running and jumping and stabbing to stay trained intently on the actors. He seems to understand that a trembling face can do more to convey suspense than countdowns and soaring music (though, just to be safe, he does throw in some countdowns and big music). The film takes its time, giving the cast room to breathe, so that character choices make sense. That’s not to say he skimps on the violence — the games start with a melee of electrifying brutality straight out of the worst dream you ever had.
The movie intrigues most when it examines the way the contestants must play on viewer emotions in the run-up to the competition. When Peeta announces on TV that he’s been secretly in love with Katniss all along, she revolts backstage. “He made me look weak!” she screams. “He made you look desirable!” retorts her trainer. At moments like these, in the film’s observations about using sex appeal, vulnerability and charm to prevail in deadly combat, The Hunger Games is as much about the meat grinder of our own world as it is about imaginary contests in distant realities.
Unfortunately, what starts as a breathtaking moral puzzle settles into good guys versus bad guys. As the kids from richer districts come together to form a gang, the film clearly demarcates who deserves to die and who doesn’t. And when the powers that be decide they need to kick Katniss and Peeta’s submerged romance up a notch, the couple is made to kiss passionately. Ross plays the moment to the cheap seats, manipulating us the way the characters have been. He doesn’t quite have the chops to make his adaptation about some of the things it wants to be about.
