It's odd arriving at a premier. Especially if it's the world premiere of the latest in the Harry Potter phenomenon: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. It starts with you are sitting in the blacked-out luxury of a brand new Mercedes, when someone in a suit that's a size too small opens the door and all hell breaks loose. Camera's flash and disjointed voices are screaming 'over here, over here', and then they look at you and realise you are no one famous and there's a sort of collective groan, and you can see one or two of them deleting the out of focus 'rabbit in the headlights' shots they took of you before the penny dropped.
Once you have decided that despite the drizzle and the constant roar of the crowd that you can still maintain something like an upright posture and not go smack on your backside, and that you are far too unimportant to have an umbrella escort, while The Star you are with does, it's time to take it all in. Well, as much as you can while trying to maintain your dignity, and worrying that somehow your flies have flown open in the car: from the wonderful dragon breathing flames, to the masses of faces searching you up and down thinking 'who the fuck are you?'. I hope they realised my smiles were an ironic post-modernist satirical comment on the shallowness of fame, rather than the rictus grin it probably looked like. What do they know?
It was nice to see Madonna, and little Lourdes, take the attention away from the Harry Potter stars and film. That's her prerogative of course, to come to everything whether involved or not. Perhaps she financed it, or something. But I had other things to worry about, like negotiating the green pastic bridge across Leicester Square with out falling over in my trendy (circa 1987) black leather shoes and whether The Son would be OK too. I debated, inwardly, whether I should hold on to the hand rail over the bridge but decided not to, then saw that Robbie Coltrane did, so I could have and still been cool, well as cool as him anyway. And it would have meant I would have been able to look around me rather than down at the floor looking out for banana skins. Anyway I, The Son and The Star dodged the paps and, together with 2,000 or so of our nearest and closest friends, made it to the screening. After a few low key speeches it got underway. And it's a good film.
It moves the characters on, and shows us the beginning of the teenage years that we are going to see a lot more of in 5, 6 and 7, and, what's more, it doesn't hang about. There isn't much room for subtlety, but the odd quiet scenes come as something of a relief. I have to say The Son, who is the grandson of The Star, was bounced out of his seat in surprise at least three times; one really big one underwater, and another when I thought he might hit the ceiling was in the maze, and he nearly tore the nails off my hands when Voldemor... sorry HWSNBN, appears, and then had the Chutzpa to say it wasn't scary. So that sweaty clingy thing attached like a limpet to my right hand and wimpering was not you, eh? It scared you, made you jump out of your seat and I have to say, you loved it. I think they've got it about right. I look forward to the next one being rated 15.
Spontaneous applause broke out at the end, but what would you expect from the luvvies and their doting families? I would have hoped for it to be a little more ecstatic if I had been director Mike Newell, perhaps a few woops and cheers would have been in order, but this latest addition will do the fanchise no end of good and boost sales of the whole opus. It's a good film with enough for the grown ups, including extra humour, and enough terror for the 11 - 16 age bracket it's aimed at. A massive hit is easy to predict but is also justified.
Thence to the party. The photo is the staircase of the Nat Hist Museum in London decked out with the Hogwarts trophy collection. Sorry, but that's all you get, any others are private, but they were also very difficult to take in the semi-gloom and scrum of the party. I thought it might all be a bit more lavish, but I suppose restraint is the order of the day. And anyway Ruth Kelly (Edu Minister) was there, so it was never going to be that glamorous (bet her kids didn't stay off Monday school today, unlike The Son: we didn't get home until two and he's only 11). However, so was Kate Beckinsale, and that did do something for the old ticker (and other parts) I can tell you. Yes, yes, it was champagne all night, and food, and the biggest free sweets bar I've ever seen and a chocolate fountain and ... oh luxury and excess, but little glamour. I really enjoyed it, and so, I think, did the stars of this latest HP. They deserved it. They done good.
