Harry Potter's film incarnation can now settle where he belongs – the pre-Christmas shopping melee.
J K Rowling is well honoured by David Yates's ashen-faced, unrelenting final half-chapter. The former State Of Play man pulls franchise-best work from all three leads and the wand-off between the teen wizard and Ralph Fiennes's boo-hiss Voldemort is a highlight. However, as redundant as any criticism is of such critic-proof juggernauts, this solid and occasionally moving finale (tip of the emo wig to Alan Rickman) suffers from being the third act of one story. The climax is oddly unheroic, as if the quest for "darkness" cancels out the real movie magic. With a dramatic catharsis it could have been something special, rather than the mudblood it finally is.