Film Review: The Tragedy of Coriolanus Snow in "The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes"

This "Hunger Games" prequel is more Shakespearean than YA, and that is what makes it such a uniquely strong entry in the franchise.

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I must admit that I was a bit hesitant to go see the new film The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes. I’m familiar with the franchise as a whole, of course, and I was absolutely transfixed by Donald Sutherland’s masterful performance of the ruthless and cunning President Coriolanus Snow. While it’s always fun to see the way such a monster comes to be the way that he is, I’ve been a bit underwhelmed by recent attempts to give a villain a good backstory. Fortunately, this film more than accomplishes its task and, though I can’t comment on its faithfulness (or lack thereof) to the book, I do think it more than succeeds in its own right.

When the film begins, young Coriolanus Snow is the scion of a once-glorious and wealthy but now bedraggled family and, while he pins his hopes on receiving a generous financial prize as a result of his academic gifts, the nefarious Casca Highbottom (Peter Dinklage at his scenery-chewing best) throws a wrench in his plans. Soon, Snow’s fate is intertwined with that of Lucy Gray Baird (Rachel Zegler), the tribute from District 12. Both during the Hunger Games and after, Snow proves himself to be someone willing to do anything to preserve both his family and himself, no matter who he has to sacrifice along the way. 

There is, I think, something almost Shakespearean about Songbirds and Snakes, in the sense that Snow’s fate is decreed from the very beginning. While there are many opportunities for turning aside from the path of darkness to one of freedom, he forsakes them each and every time. Part of this stems from his loyalty to his family–notably his cousin, Tigris (Hunter Schafer) and Grandma’am (a delightfully daffy Fionnula Flanagan)--but it’s also from his own sense of inferiority and his yearning to live up to his father’s example. 

Snow’s transformation from an idealistic young man who wants to reform the system to a cruel and psychopath is a cruel one, particularly once he is dispatched to District 12 as punishment for helping Baird survive the Hunger Games. Increasingly frustrated by his friend Sejanus Plinth’s (Josh Andrés Rivera) scheming with rebel elements, he ultimately betrays him to his death, forced to stand by as his best friend is hanged, his last cry for his mother being mocked by the mockingjays circling above. It’s this comment more than any other which seems to break his already fragile psychology, and it helps to explain why he abruptly turns against Lucy herself (though it’s also clear that she has begun to doubt him and might well be planning his demise).

By the end, of course, Snow has shown himself to be one of the most ruthless aristocrats of his generation, capable of poisoning someone in cold blood (gaining his long-deferred revenge on Highbottom). Because we have borne witness to this fall, we can’t help but feel a deep sadness at what he has become. It didn’t have to be thus, we can’t help but think. If at any point he had turned aside from this dark path he might have been one of those who brought actual change to Panem rather than becoming allied to its darkest forces. There’s no doubt that Tom Blyth is perfectly cast in the role, 

Though Snow might be the film’s centerpoint, he is more than matched by two women: Rachel Zegler’s songbird Lucy Gray Baird and Viola Davis’ Dr. Volumnia Gaul. Zegler slides so seamlessly into the part of Lucy that it’s impossible to imagine anyone else playing her, and she brings just the right mix of vulnerability and strength to this extraordinary young woman. Though she might appear waifish on the outside–and though she clearly cares deeply about her fellow tribute Jessup–she is also a badass and willing to exact her vengeance on those who have wronged her. And, since this is Zegler we’re talking about, she also has some great pipes, and kudos to the film for giving her a chance to show them off at every available opportunity. 

But I must admit that Viola Davis was the true highlight of the film for me. As deranged mad scientist genius Volumnia goal she is nothing short of an inspiration. Gaul, unlike Highbottom, seems to have no problem at all in destroying young lives in the arena, just as she also sees no problem in bombing the Districts into oblivion. When it comes down to it she is fundamentally a Hobbesian; life is nasty, brutish, and short, and only those are strong (and cunning) enough to enact their will on others deserve to survive. Beneath that deranged outward appearance there is a cunning, subtle, and ruthless mind, and it’s thus fitting that she becomes Snow’s mentor, inculcating him with her cynical view of the world and those who inhabit. 

There’s a vibrancy and a power to The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes that, I think, sets it apart from the other entries in the film series. The costuming is a delight to behold, and while it might lack some of the ersatz goofery of the original four films, it has its own symbolic language to tell, whether it’s in Snow’s red Academy garb, his bricolage outfit made out of whatever Tigis can find, or his fascist garb as a peacekeeper. Clothes make the man in the world of The Hunger Games, and this is as true for Coriolanus Snow as it is anyone else. 

Ultimately, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes reveals the extent to which all of us has an ugly little kernel of darkness lurking in our breast. Confronted with just the right circumstances, who among us wouldn’t feel tempted to give in to that festering seed, letting our dark id finally have full control? Snow’s great advantage is that he has enough self-restraint to be able to channel those dark desires into shrewd political calculations, and we can but hope that there will be more stories forthcoming to see the next steps on his Shakespearean journey.