The Hunger Games is Better Than Catching Fire, Actually

Just like the rest of the world, I have been eagerly awaiting the release of Sunrise on the Reaping, the latest book in the Hunger Games universe. But thanks to some shipping shenanigans—and maybe a little laziness on my part—I still haven't gotten my hands on it. My roommate was in a similar mood. She's been reading The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes to tide her over. To ease the agonizing pain of waiting, we decided to throw on the first Hunger Games movie for a rewatch. It's never been my favourite in the series, but what the hell, I was feeling nostalgic. Like the majority of people on the internet, I've always said that Catching Fire was by far the best, but I wasn't prepared for what came next. When the credits rolled, I had to face a startling fact—The Hunger Games is better than Catching Fire.

At its core, The Hunger Games is about power, control, violence, and the dangerous role of entertainment in all three. There's just something about the stripped back storytelling and less polished look of the original Hunger Games that is more effective at conveying those messages than its successors. It's Less Hollywood, and that's kind of the point.

Before you run to the comments to tear me to shreds, let me explain myself. I still have a lot of the same issues I've always had with the movie. The cinematography drives me absolutely bonkers, and the shaky-cam/rapidfire editing combo makes my head spin. More than once, I yelled at the camera to just hold still so that I could see what was going on. I felt like I was watching a found footage film like Chronicle or Cloverfield sometimes, and that definitely took me out of it. My roommate and I laughed out loud during a scene where Katniss is hallucinating after getting stung by tracker jackers. The distorted lens paired with a stuttery effect that looks more at home on TikTok than the big screen was just too much. But. Despite all that, I think that The Hunger Games gets at the heart of Suzanne Collins' dystopian story in a way that none of the other films in the series have quite managed to.

This movie captures the true horror of the Hunger Games.

Gary Ross' direction in the first film hones right in on his protagonist. Katniss' (Jennifer Lawrence) perspective guides the audience through the entire narrative, so when her sister is chosen at the Reaping, I feel her panic. In the infamous Cornicopia bloodbath scene, I feel her fear. That sequence is one of the few times I think the disorienting cinematography heightens the moment rather than detracting from it. Especially with the sound sucked out of the scene, there is nothing for Katniss, or us, to do but watch the massacre and face the reality of death in the arena.

There's a stronger focus on the dehumanization of the District Tributes in the Capitol, and the stark juxtaposition between the poverty in District 12 and the garish opulence of the Capitol just rubs salt in the wound. Here again, the 'ugly' shots and stilted angles make the Capitol a cold and forboding place to be. Maybe I've been missing the point all along. I had completely forgotten about a scene where Haymitch (Woody Harrelson) sees two Capitol children 'playing' Hunger Games in the street, unable to keep the revulsion off his face, or the focus the film gives to regular people betting money on a child death match.

When Francis Lawrence took over directing duties for Catching Fire, as well as the rest of the series, the movies' visual language changed completely. Tight, intimate scenes were exchanged for sweeping spectacle. On top of the more polished aesthetics, the focus shifted from the violence and tragedy of the Games, and became more about the Games themselves. In some ways, I feel like I'm no better than the Capitol citizens when I watch it. I'm captivated by the intricacies of the arena and the relationships between the Tributes. I even find myself looking at the runtime in the opening scenes, wondering, "When are we gonna get to the good stuff?" Catching Fire makes the Hunger Games exciting to watch, which makes for a great viewing experience, but a weaker story.

There's a Roman phrase that Suzanne Collins took a lot of inspiration from when writing the books. Panem et Circenses, or bread and circuses. The term was used to describe the methods that the Roman government used to pacify the masses, and distract them from the important issues. They hosted gladiator fights to entertain their subjects so that they wouldn't notice the rampant corruption or people starving in the street. Sound familiar? The first Hunger Games movie startles you awake and yells at you to look at what's happening around you. With Catching Fire, I feel like one of those Romans, too busy cheering on my fighter to think about why I'm doing it.

I do want to give Catching Fire credit where it's due. It had to focus on illustrating what the start of a revolution looked like. The spark becoming a flame. The larger scale of the conflict meant that it didn't have the luxury of the tighter lens in The Hunger Games. Still, I'm never truly affected by the violence in Catching Fire. Rewatching The Hunger Games, I was horrified.

In the opening moments of the first film, Caesar Flickerman (Stanley Tucci) interviews Head Gamemaker—and owner of the world's wierdest beard—Seneca Crane (Wes Bentley). Flickerman asks, "This is your third year as Gamemaker. What defines your personal signature?" Hard cut to District 12, and the blood curdling screams of Primrose Everdeen (Willow Shields). From then on, I was in.

And that wasn't the only screaming that happened. My roommate gets super invested in movies, that's why I love watching them with her, but I've almost never seen her like this. More than once she gasped, grabbed her face, or let out a small scream. It was never at the moments you'd expect. It wasn't the jump scares or the suspenseful moments, but the moments where Katniss was fighting for her life. The cold brutality of the movie took her breath away. If I'm being honest, it took mine away too.

Jennifer Lawrence and Josh Hutcherson are the best they've been in the whole series, in my opinion. They're less actor-y, and even with two of the most recognizable faces of the 2010s onscreen, I kept forgetting about the real people behind the scenes. I was too invested in the inner worlds of Katniss and Peeta. They're motivations throughout were far more nuanced than I remembered, and if I hadn't seen it so many times I would have been biting my nails, wondering what was the truth, and what was just for show.

The character focus in the film lends itself to a connection and empathy that I can't help but feel is missing from the other movies. The same can be said for Amandla Stenberg as Rue. Despite myself, I found I was tearing up when she died. The destruction of her innocence and the effect that it has on Katniss and the Districts affected me more than I expected. My roommate was just as surprised. She said, "I don't remember it being like this." I can't think of a single scene from the other movies that had that kind of staying power, at least with me.

Even smaller characters like Cato (Alexander Ludwig) have their moments. Cato's death was maybe the most surprising moment for me on this viewing. Not because I didn't know what was going to happen, but because I had forgotten what it meant. Cato is the last Tribute standing between Katniss and Peeta and victory. During the climactic battle at the Cornicopia, with Katniss' arrow pointed straight at him and his arms wrapped around Peeta's neck, Cato says, "Go on, shoot. I'm dead anyway. I always was, right? I didn't know that 'til now." Even the most brutal Career killer eventually sees that he is nothing to the Capitol. His only reward for his loyalty to the system is death. Ross manages to make me relate to someone who, up until now, has been the secondary antagonist of the story, a testament to his deft handling of the material.

"Go on, shoot. I'm dead anyway. I always was, right? I didn't know that 'til now."

Each character's journey exposes a different facet of the Capitol's tyranny, whereas in the sequels the characters tend to blend together for me. The focus and care that the director and screenwriters show to each character is what really set this movie apart from the others on a rewatch.

I can't deny that in the past I've been unfair to The Hunger Games. I've dismissed it in favour of its flashier, and perhaps better dressed sequels. I fell right into the trap that they were trying to warn me about.

I'm glad I gave it another chance. Even if no one else agrees with me, I'm now prepared to say it. The Hunger Games is a better movie than Catching Fire, or at least, a more effective one. If you give it a rewatch, you just might agree.