‘The Hunger Games: The Ballad Of Songbirds & Snakes’ Review: A Stylish Return To The Beginning
“It's the things we love the most that destroy us,” President Snow tells Katniss Everdeen in 2014’s The Hunger Games: Mockingjay - Part 1. This sentiment has been an overarching theme throughout the entire Hunger Games series, regardless of the medium it takes, and it steps into more of the spotlight in the franchise’s latest, The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes.
Set 64 years before we’re even introduced to Katniss’ story and the end of the Games, we go back to the beginning — literally. Three years before the first Hunger Games, a title card tells us, we see two blond children running through the streets of the Capitol, searching for food. 13 years later, we come to know them as Tigris (Hunter Schafer) and Coriolanus Snow (Tom Blyth). It’s the morning of the Reaping Ceremony for the 10th Annual Hunger Games, and Snow, as we’ll eventually come to know him, is waiting to find out which tribute he’ll mentor. Unfortunately for him, he gets the “runt” of the litter — District 12’s Lucy Gray Baird (Rachel Zegler).
Whereas in the first Hunger Games movie, we approach the capital through Katniss’ journey — outside going in — the reverse is true here, viewing the capital as one of its own, with the tributes (“districts,” as they’re not-so lovingly referred to) as the ones staged as unfamiliar to us. This isn’t groundbreaking, per se, but it allows for more nuanced storytelling by framing the protagonist as someone whom others have to rely upon rather than the one needing something from a mentor, especially given the circumstances. Most prequels are cursed with this — the fact that we know where the story is going, and, unless the films can tap into an unknown part of franchise history (like parts of the Star Wars prequels), are halted by the audience’s lack of care for the story. The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes carefully avoids this in a few ways, the most important being the fact that it structures its narrative as more of a character study than anything else, using the surrounding elements of the Games and the dystopian characteristics of the world (people, locations, in-world animals) to its advantage. When the film is able to focus on telling Snow’s story — more specifically, how he turns from the wide-eyed optimist to the Donald Sutherland-played antagonist he later becomes — putting the action and spectacle as a secondary priority — the film can do what it does best, and be effortlessly compelling in the process.
The other important factor here is just how good the acting is. Tom Blyth, in his first real lead role, is captivatingly charismatic, enough so to get us to forget about who Snow really is, convincing the audience to even care about him and his journey — if that’s even possible. He effectively portrays a man — no, a boy — in the midst of a defining period of his life that, on paper, shouldn’t be the easiest to root for but somehow is. Opposite him is Rachel Zegler, who, after starring as Maria in Spielberg’s West Side Story — her first film role ever — has continued to cement her star power as she goes from a scared performer to a fighter, beautifully singing her heart out in the process. Jason Schwartzman (playing Lucky Flickerman, the first Hunger Games host) makes a meal out of a snack, chewing on the subtleties of playing the rich commentator observing those with less than him. Peter Dinklage impresses with not a lot of screen time, cementing the moral stance the film takes. Josh Andrés Rivera sells the emotional core with a line delivery that echoes back to us later in the film and once again helps differentiate between the ethical and moral arguments expressed here. The last member of the principal cast is Viola Davis, playing the film’s antagonist, if there is one, clearly having a blast with sly, evil line deliveries and meticulously maniacal mannerisms.
Structurally, The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes lays all the cards on the table from the start. Each chapter of the story (the film’s three acts) is sectioned with titles, initially telling us the point of each section of the story — what to focus on, what not to — that help to keep the story’s themes moving alongside it. Initially paced at a speed that makes these act changes surprising, the film tries to maintain this rapidity through the third act, a choice that, while not detrimental to the filmmaking and storytelling, ultimately harms the impact the film has when it’s over. The problem isn’t that the themes and character developments aren’t conveyed — they are — but it’s the way in which they’re approached, trying to rush through what feels like an entirely different film to conclude two-plus hours of great filmmaking. The problem isn’t with the tonal shift or the different setting — it lies with the linear feeling from these later moments that we don’t get early on. It feels like the film takes a starting point and an ending point and wants to get there as quickly as possible before the aura of the spectacle — the sprawling world they’ve built and the shock that this prequel is better than the films it’s set before — wears off.
Despite this, The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes does much more good than bad. A mix of great filmmaking across the board, committed acting, and a more nuanced approach to these events pulls off the rare achievement of crafting a prequel that’s not only better than its predecessors (successors?) but crafts what is, undoubtedly, the best film the Hunger Games franchise has to offer.
The Hunger Games: The Ballad Of Songbirds & Snakes will be released by Lionsgate on November 17, 2023.
This review was made possible thanks to our friends at Lionsgate who invited us to an early screening of The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes for review.