Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince is a dichotomous experience: half comedy, half tragedy; half blood, half heart. It’s certainly not the most cohesive of the films (Prisoner), nor is it the most disjointed (Goblet). Based on the penultimate book, much of it is naturally build-up and anticipation for the grand finale, which will be split into two films not at all so Warner Bros. can make twice the galleons.

The film picks up right where Order of the Phoenix left off, with Harry and Dumbledore vindicated about Voldemort’s return. The Deatheaters are rising, attacking Londoners and wizards alike, and a pervasive feeling of dread dominates. … Until the kids get back to school, and everyone suddenly seems less concerned about Muggle murders and more worried about who’s snogging whom.

The tone is all over the place: The adolescent drama reaches giddy new heights of hilarity, but then it jarringly jumps to epic Lord of the Rings-caliber action and ultimately Shakespearean tragedy. It probably makes little sense to anyone who hasn’t read the books, but for those who have, it’s a brilliant translation. The young actors have grown comfortable in their roles, deftly balancing parody and pathos. Michael Gambon’s Dumbledore finally lives up to the character from the book, showcasing both his brilliance and his frailty, making the end all the more wrenching. And Alan Rickman is, as usual, amazing as Snape. It’s almost impossible to imagine anyone else in the role.

Despite its PG rating, Half-Blood Prince has utterly transcended its children’s books roots. Half-Blood is fully adult; it’s not just a good kiddie flick, it’s a damn good movie.