Tom Blyth stars as a young Coriolanus Snow in this prequel to “The Hunger Games” series.
Photo courtesy of Lionsgate
By Aubrey Carr
Viewers are taken back to the dystopian world of Panem in “The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes,” an adequate prequel to the beloved “Hunger Games” series.
Set 60 years prior, “Ballad” follows the original films’ main antagonist Coriolanus Snow (Tom Blyth) as a teenager trying to hold onto his family’s fame and fortune in a power-driven Capitol. Assigned to mentor an outspoken girl from District 12 in the tenth edition of the Games, Coriolanus is pushed to choose between a budding romance or the social status he desperately clings to.
Blyth shines as a young President Snow, providing a nuanced balance between charm and cunning, humanizing the character and making it easy to forget the vengeful dictator he would eventually become.
Rachel Zegler (“West Side Story”) stars alongside as Coriolanus’ tribute–– a singer belonging to a group of traveling performers called The Covey. While her acting performance was decent, shoddy Appalachian accent aside, Zegler’s astounding vocal abilities were awe inducing.
The film’s bold decision to incorporate the novel’s frequent musical numbers could have risked feeling out of place, but the exquisite production values of each song effectively overshadow any potential awkwardness, ensuring a seamless and captivating experience.
Separating itself from its predecessors, the Games themselves take on a different tone in this installment.
Instead of the highly polished and orchestrated events we’re accustomed to, we witness a raw, unrefined version that highlights the Capitol’s evolution. The tributes are less polished, the arena less controlled, giving viewers a glimpse into the brutal origins of a spectacle designed to entertain the Capitol citizens.
Though lacking the initial visual allure of a giant arena, the tenth Hunger Games captivates through its intimate portrayal, humanizing the tributes in a way that surpasses the main series. Nearly every participant is granted a poignant moment, establishing a personal connection with the audience.
Every death serves as a stark reminder that these are not faceless villains crafted to oppose the protagonist –– they are children compelled to commit acts of violence in the name of survival.
Unfortunately, the film falters greatly when the focus shifts from the Games to the aftermath.
After cheating to win the Games, Coriolanus is sent to serve as a peacekeeper in District Twelve, reuniting with Lucy Gray and performing a variety of betrayals that lead to a devastatingly ambiguous ending. At least it is meant to be devastating. Whether or not the film succeeds in that reaction is debatable.
Where the novel spends its time detailing Coriolanus’ ulterior motives and manipulations through pages of internal dialogue, the movie skips over this character building entirely. While his eventual breakdown was inevitable in the book, foreshadowed by chapters of distrust and suspicion, the film rushes towards Coriolanus’ final actions, resulting in a shocking twist that just falls short.
Instead of an emotional reaction to the protagonist’s ultimate descent into villainy, viewers are left with a flat feeling of confusion, questioning why the characters acted the way they did.
Though it struggled with characterization and pacing in its final act, “The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes” was an entertaining and nostalgic flick, throwing viewers back into the dystopian craze of the early 2010s. Bolstered by stellar acting performances and an ensemble cast, the film manages to hold its ground against the original series, carving out its own place in the Hunger Games universe.
