Hunger Games leaves appetite unsated

There’s a fine line between an interesting and compelling story that you can read and one that translates well as a movie so that you can watch it.

That line is precisely where you’ll find The Hunger Games and the second chapter in the series, Catching Fire. I expect that Mockingjay (the third book, and the third and fourth movies) will undoubtedly fall on the same line and fall just as flat too.

The entire trilogy as conceived by Suzanne Collins tells of Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence). She’s a young woman with a lot of verve that begins this extended tale getting chosen as a tribute, one of two from each of 12 districts, from a lottery drum, to compete in the Hunger Games.

The games are a cross between Survivor and The Running Man. One young woman and man from each district must fight each other to the death in an annual contest that is constructed by the Capitol as a way of making sure that the plebeians stay in their place while forcibly creating televised entertainment that certainly riles up and placates the masses at the same time.

Katniss and her District 12 mate, Peeta Mellark (Josh Hutcherson) are allowed to be co-victors, much to the displeasure of President Snow (Donald Sutherland). This is where Catching Fire picks up but we, the people, are barely left any string upon which to follow whatever threadbare story that Collins could weave. Frankly, her tales are really just plot points knotted together as a false way of keeping her unbearable stories alive. Usually, writers create characters with enough depth to keep us interested in learning what makes them tick.

Here, in the game, people don’t matter. Only the very shallow game of plot points matters. I could comment on how the extended tale comments on the Greek myths of Theseus and the Minotaurs, or how wonderful it is to have a female protagonist who isn’t utterly dependent on the secondary male protagonist, or even that there are some semblances of intelligence in how this dystopian universe is constructed with its smart remarks about the media, politics and “the system.”

Sure, Everdeen must endure her journey of labours time and time again but aren’t we – the viewers – still enthralled by her lush eyelashes and luxuriant hair? Isn’t this the greater comment, the more important social value of such youth-centric films?

Hardly. The books might have their intelligences – not the least of which is the aforementioned knotty plot thread, birthed through hundreds of pages like a thick and gnarled rope of an umbilical cord.

Collins’ specialty is not in characters but in how stories occur. You want to care about who the people are and what character arcs they must experience in a movie? Go watch To Kill a Mockingbird or Stand By Me. With The Hunger Games, you should only be interested in what happens and how often. People don’t matter, whether they are characters or actors.

That being said, there are some good performers and performances. Jennifer Lawrence, still fresh off an Oscar win for a different movie, is blasĂ©. In times like this, I often give high regard to those actors on the sidelines. Stanley Tucci and Woody Harrelson are always fun to watch. Elizabeth Banks is really good too. Similarly, no one should complain about Donald Sutherland’s acting ability, ever.

Let’s hope that his younger cohorts in these bland efforts learn a thing or two along the way. A film that attempts to tackle such broad social commentary should leave its audience satisfied, not feeling hungry for a story to start even when it reaches its end. This is a story about people, after all. It’s sad that I just don’t care about any of the heroes.