Film Review | The Hunger Games: Catching Fire

The Hunger Games franchise is a fascinating phenomenon, one that's bound to have inspired as large a number of Phd dissertations as it has amassed 'young adult' fans.

The film adaptations of Suzanne Collins's hugely popular trilogy of novels about a dystopian world in which teenagers are pitted against each other in televised gladiatorial combat is set to join Harry Potter and Twilight as one of the multi-media sensations of our age.

But it hinges on an interesting tension: while it sets out to, ostensibly, critique our capitalist entertainment structures - reality television in particular - it also implicates the audience into what it's trying to undermine by making the victimisation of our protagonists as thrilling as possible.

The first instalment (last year's The Hunger Games), concluded with Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence) and Peeta Mellark (Josh Hutcherson) - two youths from the impoverished District 12 - seemingly subverting the system they were forced to play into by refusing to kill each other during the final round of 'The Hunger Games', an annual televised ritual forced upon the futuristic earth of 'Panem' by its totalitarian government, headed by President Snow (Donald Sutherland).

Having 'sold' their (artificial?) romance as a hook for audiences - and thus placating President Snow, at least temporarily - Katniss, has become something of an anti-establishment icon, much to the chagrin of the President and his mercurial new 'games master', Plutarch Heavensbee (Philip Seymour Hoffman).

Deciding to tighten the noose around her neck by implying that her family will suffer if she doesn't play ball, Snow forces Katniss to distract her followers away from their revolutionary intentions by any means necessary.

But what Katniss symbolises is too powerful to just scrub away - leading President Snow to make one lethal twist of the knife after another.

Though one of the hooks of the franchise is its attempt at acerbic satire, this sequel confirms that Collins - and by extension the filmmakers responsible for the adaptation - are keeping very diligently to the book when it comes to the bare bones of the story itself.

The Hunger Games has, so far, proven itself to be a classic 'hero' quest in every way, and if this middle chapter introduces twists and developments - 'wrinkles', as Plutarch himself comments - they are twists which conform entirely to sci-fi/fantasy tradition. 

In a lot of ways, this is very much the Empire Strikes Back of the series - with our heroes wrung to near-breaking point at every step of the way and new revelations revealing some interesting underpinnings to what we originally took for granted.

Director Francis Lawrence (Constantine, I Am Legend) handles the Collins's fictional world far better than his predecessor, Gary Ross.

Sleek and clear for most of its run, he employs shaky cam deftly during action scenes. It's his handling of violence that really makes all the difference, however.

It was always going to be a tricky thing: a young-adult-friendly series of films about a brutal totalitarian regime which forces kids to murder each other in competition.

Ross was clumsy on this - self-censoring graphic details to numbing effect - but Lawrence is shrewd enough to strike a good balance. Each hit feels real and powerful though no gore is evident.

But it's that other Lawrence - Jennifer - who of course remains the shining beacon of the series. The young actress, whose unassuming off-stage demeanour has won over 'hearts and minds' much like her Hunger Games avatar Katniss does in-film, remains a sturdy heroine we can all rally behind.

The shape of the narrative is changing to edge her away from the centre now, however; and it'll be interesting to see how this eminently bankable satire - with all the paradoxes that implies - moves away from brutal-fun-and-games and into revolutionary territory come its final chapter.