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Before I get around to laying down my take on Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, I want to map out where I'm coming from on the whole Potter thing.

I’ve been a science-fiction/fantasy/comic-book geek all my life, from Planet of the Apes to James Bond to Star Trek to Star Wars to The Lord of the Rings to Spider-Man and X-Men. (Not to mention Buffy & Angel, Farscape, and the Battlestar Galactica reboot in the past decade.)

So it’s been a bit odd to stand on the outside and look in at the massive Harry Potter (and to a lesser degree, Twilight) book and film series. I recognize all the geeky traits, the obsessions, the nitpicking over details, and the frustrations. And I understand the joy, the devotion, the way a beloved franchise warms the cockles of your geeky heart on cold, lonely nights when it seems the rest of the world is watching shows about The Most Horrible Housewives in the World.

(Likewise, I never watched the Transformers or GI: JOE cartoons in the '80s, though let's stay focused on franchises that at least try to do something other than sell toys…)

I read the first couple Potter books a decade ago and fully intended to keep going, but when the hardbacks started approaching the size of Medieval tomes I shrugged and wandered away. I didn’t dislike the books, but they didn’t grab me or move me or engage me in any deep, meaningful way. I thought they were part delightfully imaginative, part silly, part childish, part intriguing. But all those parts never added up to enough to keep me around.

I did warm to the films a bit more—the first two by Christopher Columbus were pretty hackneyed and blandly flat, but with The Prisoner of Azkaban (by the brilliant Alfonso Cuarón) things clicked and I warmed up to the increasingly dark and cool moods. However, until this week I don’t believe I ever saw a Potter film a second time outside the theater. I dutifully bought my niece the DVDs for birthdays and Christmases, and always thought about re-watching them, and, like the rest of the books, never got around to it.

So this week I re-watched Prisoner, Goblet of Fire (from Mike Newell), and Order of the Phoenix (from David Yates, who directed Half-Blood Prince and will see the series out through the final two films). I was stunned at how much stuff I’d forgotten and at how richly beautiful these non-Columbus films are—not just the wildly imaginative scenes with fantastical creatures, but things like the Hogwarts train’s journeys through the English countryside and of course the Gothic wonders of the castle-school itself.

Yet at the same time, while I enjoyed getting a crash refresher course on What the Heck is Going On in the Potterverse, in the end my response to re-watching those DVDs was very similar to my initial response in the theaters: pleasant enough dazzle and enjoyment while watching, followed by an almost methodical flushing of the experience from my brain within hours of the closing credits.

Likable as I find the Potter films, as much as I love seeing the parade of some of the best working British thespians alive, they just don’t stick with me. They are increasingly full of dark, complex emotional themes and the sort of epic good-vs-evil stuff I grew up on with Lord of the Rings and Star Wars, but little in the Potter films connects or resonates with me enough for me to feel drawn back to them.

(And then there's the cutesy alliteration… oh, God… the alliteration…)

I know how absolutely muggle-brained crazy that must sound to those of you who have been devouring the books and the films for more than a decade now. My best friend of the past 20 years has no interest whatsoever in Star Wars, Star Trek, or Lord of the Rings. That leaves my inner geek-boy gobsmacked with incredulity: That these stories that were so utterly integral to my emotional and creative development as a young boy hold nothing for him.

But now, as an adult, I look at these beloved childhood treasures and I see how their faults must register to those on the outside. Star Wars can be clunking and cringe-inducing. And even I, who has read Lord of the Rings a dozen times, find myself having to hold my nose and push on through Tolkien’s sometimes leaden, stuffy prose–at least for a couple dozen pages, until the magic soaks down to my 11-year-old brain, and I get swept up and lost again in the pleasure.

I have my problems with the Potter films. Rowling is a nifty spinner of tales and she does a marvelous job of holding her readers' interest, but too often for my taste, as the films follow the books for the most part, there is a “and then this happened, and then this happened” herky-jerky feel to her overall narratives. I love the grand conflict of Voldemort’s gradual return, of Harry and Dumbledore’s growing bond, of Snape's duplicity (triplicity?). And I admit it’s a kick to see a long-form story of adolescence unfold in almost real time, watching the characters of Harry, Ron, and Hermione slowly grow into young adults, following paths and pitfalls so familiar to many of us.

But the films are always too meandering by half for me. They usually have a major through-plot, a serious mystery or problem to be confronted, but they are far too willing to wander away from those compelling stakes for long stretches, wallowing in clever-but-overfilling minutia. In that sense, none of the Potter films really work as films for me. They are lovely. They have a seductive warmth to them, with their themes of finding your place, finding your friends. (Even in the later volumes when things get very dark.) But ultimately they feel all surface to me, big easy emotions and themes that go in one side of my heart and out the other.

I do understand, now that I’ve seen the sixth film, and as the film series rumbles towards its conclusion, how nice it must be to get drawn into the world of Hogwarts. All those long, tedious bits about who Harry and Ron and Hermione do or do not like, all the balls and parties and endless classroom scenes are in fact forever building this world, populating it, fostering a cozy familiarity with the
characters and the world of both Hogwarts and the wizarding world
beyond its moat.

Those efforts make the world of Potter resonate for the viewers not within a single film, but over the course of half a dozen. As a Star Trek/Star Wars/LOTR fan, I get that—and it is interesting to see these films not work as individual movies, or as unique two-hour-plus cinematic experiences, but rather as parts of a longer journey. It almost makes them non-films—they really do function more like chapters.

In the end I certainly do not hate the Harry Potter books and films—not in any sense. I completely understand, as a geek, their appeal both in their specific charms, so to speak, and their overall effect as a creative franchise. There is a giddy rush from investing time, energy, and emotion into being a part of such a sprawling, delightful, emotionally involving world of imagination. Not to mention the additional thrill—a big component of any geek obsession—of being part of a group, a movement even, that shares your love.

But for me, the whole Harry Potter phenomenon has been less about the works themselves and more about my understanding a bit better how other “regular” folks must feel when my friends and I start going on about the lineage of Aragorn or moral failings of Anakin Skywalker. It has been fascinating to see it all from the outside for a change.

Up next, a NON-Potter fanatic’s take on the film version of The Half-Blood Prince!

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