The reviews just keep pouring in for Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. A new review from the The New York Times describes Mike Newell's direction as "...the combination of British eccentricity, fatalism and steady-on pluck..." and Ralph Fiennes' Voldemort as "... the greatest screen performance ever delivered without the benefit of a nose; certainly it's a performance of sublime villainy."
Mr. Fiennes enters the film spectacularly, if regrettably late, whooshing into that crowded graveyard like a Butoh dancer from hell. He brings the film to an unsettling close, one that doesn't so much polish off the story as leave it in tatters. That's to the good of the film and the series, since each new story has to satisfy on its own terms as well as prime us for the next installment. If Mr. Cuarón raised the series to a new level with Azbakan, Mr. Newell, best known for ingratiating mainstream fare like Four Weddings and a Funeral and best remembered for the bracing likes of Donnie Brasco, manages to keep his contribution at a similarly high level of enthrallment. The gloom and doom may be less poetically realized, but the combination of British eccentricity, fatalism and steady-on pluck remains irresistibly intact.
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