The Hobbit: The Desolation of All that is Good and Holy

I’m going to have to rescind that waiver from Purgatory for Mr. Jackson.  Having seen The Desolation of Smaug and the total overhaul of my childhood daydreams of elves, bards, and dragons, I left the theater completely confused.  Not to say that I did not enjoy the movie; I enjoyed it immensely!  It has humor and action, plenty of color and, once again, does a spectacular job of realizing Middle-Earth.  But in contrast to last year’s initial frustration with An Unexpected Journey slowly turning to feelings of appreciation and acceptance, my warm first impressions of Smaug have since cooled.

A lot of people, both those I have spoken with and reviewers online, are calling Smaug an improvement over Journey, but I personally do not see it.  Many reviews have inexplicably decried the “over-long” Bag-End introduction to Journey (which remains my favorite segment of that film) while complimenting Smaug on getting right to the action.  In a similar vein, another review praised the film as having more drama, which basically means more action-packed hack-and-slash, less Tolkien.  Is that a bad thing?  Let us just say it is certainly not a good thing. 

This is not The Hobbit you are looking for…

What needs must be point out first is that which becomes glaringly obvious by the 5min mark in-film: this movie is not based on The Hobbit; merely inspired by it.  Everything on the book’s back cover this there – Beorn, dark forest, forest elves, barrels out of bond, Laketown, Bard and the Master (a lot of them, actually), the Lonely Mountain, and naturally the dragon.  However, not much else makes it into the movie that did not originate in Jackson’s imagination; literally nothing from the book goes untouched, and precious little is for the better.  “Oh, you people have to have the movie exactly like the book!” scoffed one online comment.  “No,” the next comment answered (and I paraphrase), “that isn’t it at all.   We diehards recognize that the movie is going to be somewhat different from the book, as is the case with all such projects; we’d just prefer the movie at least resemble the book in some way.”  I could not agree more.  That is not to say, however, that every innovation in the movie is a bad thing…

The Arkenstone

Perhaps the best invention on Jackson’s part was the development of the Arkenstone from flashy bauble to king-maker, despite the total absence (to my knowledge) of any such significance.  The notion that a jewel should be the crux of the dwarves’ quest plays perfectly to Tolkien’s universe in a way that even that great author did not even hint at in his own novel (like so much of Tolkien’s world, this particular trinket gets introduced about the time it actually comes into view, which is admittedly anticlimactic insofar as critical plot devices are concerned).  Long before magic rings came to dominate fantasy fiction, the objects of power in Middle-Earth were jewels – the most notable being the three titular Silmarils from Tolkien’s earliest work, The Silmarillion – possessed with powers of enthrallment strong enough to seal blood oaths between empires and see the same reduced to rubble.  This history is borrowed from liberally to spruce up the Arkenstone – seven elf brothers become seven dwarf kingdoms, the boys swearing to recover the Silmarils from Sauron’s boss, the dwarves swearing to come to the aid of one who holds the Arkenstone.  Moreover, the extended edition of An Unexpected Journey goes even further by drawing in another story from The Silmarillion to explain why the elves of Mirkwood are so hostile to the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain: in the book there is not much reason that I can remember, though the elf king does express a passion for green gems in the last chapter of the book, while in the movie the same king instead believes himself cheated out of numerous white gems – that cheating bit being an element from the Silmarillion.  So now Thorin’s desperation to have his Hobbit burglar purloin the Arkenstone takes on a world’s worth of meaning as opposed to just the rock’s glamor.

Bilbo

And speaking of burglars, what might one say for Mr. Freeman this go ‘round?  Sadly, not much, good or bad.  For being called “The Hobbit” there is a depressing lack of Baggins throughout the film.  That has not stopped Jackson from still further demolishing Tolkien’s masterful character, as this time Bilbo gets “darker” and ring-hungry, a total departure from the book’s more frolicking depiction of the Ring in its dormant pre-LOTR state.  In those scenes where Bilbo does act like his literary counterpart, Freeman is once again remarkable, but these moments are terribly infrequent, disrupted by a new focus upon the increasingly erratic Thorin and the displaced rabble-rouser Bard, demoted from his post on the Laketown guard in the book to a mere bargeman in the film.  In both the dwarf’s case as well as Bard’s, Jackson seems to be trying to recreate the parallel storyline that Aragorn enjoyed in LOTR, the scruffy diamond in the rough en route to glorious heroism and kingship.  Unfortunately, the classy dichotomy between Frodo and Aragorn, wherein each gets enough treatment to pull off the dual narratives, is so far lacking in this new trilogy, the Bilbo/Thorin story leaning overpoweringly in the dwarf’s favor.

Thranduil (Lee Pace)

"Do not speak to me of dragon fire!"

Thranduil is the elfin king of Mirkwood, an insular anti-hero who more wants to protect his realm than really be of help to passing adventurers.  The elf king is another triumph of Smaug, as actor Lee Pace pulls out all the stops in his depiction of a nearly unhinged monarch only just kept in check.  The elements of the elf king’s personality that first made me dislike him are the very qualities that I have since been convinced are what make him so outstanding a character.  The costume designers loved Pace for his elegant build compared to more burly actors, and as Thranduil he is like something out of Harry Potter’s eclectic cast, alternating between stony reserve and willow-whip fury.  This took me by complete surprise, as I had gotten too used to the stoicism of most elves, an almost “Sorry, but I left my soul in Heaven” sort of bearing.  Unlike his more elite cousins, Thranduil wears his emotions on his sleeve, eyes widening and literally glittering through some special effects when he waxes eloquent about the white jewels so dear to his heart, then widening further in genuine shock when Thorin dares to insult him, before narrowing in a raging glower that suggests that he would like nothing better than to go bat-crap crazy on the nearest breathing person.  And it is not even the extremes of acting that make Pace such a winner, but the subtleties as well.  In his interview with Tauriel, the king turns to bestow on her what I interpreted as a genuine smile, but coming from a high-functioning sociopath, it filtered through layers of reluctant grimace so as to be rendered terrifically awkward, almost as if Thranduil knew that he was expected to smile in polite company, yet could not quite master the act.

Tauriel (and Kili)

As for the most obvious addition to Tolkien’s Hobbit – even more so than the misbegotten Pale Orc – I actually liked the inclusion of Tauriel, as she saves Legolas from having to rely on his maniac dad for a foil.  In a movie that seemed to simply want to revive the Legolas fandom without actually developing him in any way (to leave room for LOTR?) Tauriel was a stroke of genius, allowing for some elven common sense and intercultural camaraderie that does not force Legolas to hit it off with Gloin before Gimli.  She also serves as what could be a backdrop for Legolas’ more cosmopolitan views in LOTR in contrast with his dad’s insularity.  In a sense, she is Thranduil’s opposite, independent where the elf king is narrow-minded, friendly where he is hostile, and this leaves Legolas in the middle, considering his options for the future.

I am sorely tempted to not even touch the romance between Tauriel and the hitherto under-developed Kili.  In short, I hated it and still do, though to judge from the sheer volume of mushy/quirky fanart cropping up in my Pinterest feed (that’s right) I’m probably outnumbered in this opinion.

So if I may momentarily indulge in a canon rant: inter-racial marriages were always taboo in Middle-Earth.  As far as I recall, there were only three or four and they were all between human men and elven women, and entailed a tremendous amount of traumatic drama.  Remember the stress surrounding Arwen’s decision to stay with Aragorn in The Return of the King?  That was because, true to Tolkien, she was choosing between eternal life as an elf in the West, or a life dedicated to a mortal man that, once he died, would wane into a grey twilight existence – as Arwen’s life indeed does in the Appendices (happy endings, huh?).  But the inherent problem that Tauriel and Kili will be unable to shake is the sheer quirkiness of their relationship.  This would have been less a problem had Jackson simply given them a Merry/Pippin - R2D2/C-3PO relationship, one that might spawn from mutual interest, but would progress no further than junior-high level jibes and eventual respect and friendship.  Instead, Jackson had the mind-numbing idea to actually allow the romance to progress to the Twilight stage, complete with an Arwen-esc faith healing on account of the shorter fellow’s mortal wound (caused by a Morgul arrow, no less – seriously, do these rare blades just grow on Morgul trees these days?).  That was definitely the lowest point of the film for me.  Remember how you cringed with vicarious embarrassment for someone else?  Yeah.  It especially hurts because Evangeline Lilly (Tauriel) had specifically requested that she be spared a love triangle, a request that the studio originally honored – then rejected. 

Given the extremes to which this nonsense has progressed, there can only be a few possible outcomes for this romance.  The least likely is a marriage in Erebor (though given the egregious abuse already dealt Middle-Earth, I will not yet rule that out), though more likely is the ubiquitous “eye contact” connection during the final celebration scene (probably the coronation of Fili, if I have understood the foreshadowing correctly).  Or they might even “stay together,” either by bidding Bilbo farewell whilst hand-in-hand or at least in close proximity, or by wandering off into the sunset, all of which conveniently remove Tauriel from Legolas’ radar in time for The Fellowship of the Ring.  My personal prediction, and one that incorporates Kili’s demise (that’s right, Fili, Kili and Thorin die in the book – no spoilers here, The Hobbit was 76 years old last September!) is that they collapse dying in each other’s arms during the Battle of Five Armies, exchanging a few final words of comfort before a ruined statue or slab of wrecked masonry collapses on them.

Smaug

But that dragon, oh my word, that dragon!  Smaug himself is worth the price of admission!  Voiced by none other than Sherlock’s Benedict Cumberbatch, Smaug is the ultimate flying wyrm, whipping his immensity about with a combination of thunderous footfalls and surprising serpentine grace, and breathing not just fire, but eruptions that set the theater seats to shaking.  This arch-enemy comes across as a sort of Darth Vader of the story, heartless and evil to the core, yet so awe-inspiring and just cool that there is no fear or loathing – I just wanted to see more!  So in a sense it is not a bad thing that Smaug was given such a protracted action scene, bizarre though it became, because it allowed him to roam about and play Godzilla before taking to the skies to ring in the end credits.  Yet the saddest departure from the book is to be found in Smaug’s brief appearance.  In the books he is introduced via a couple appearances and one conversation before exploding from his lair and demolishing the mountainside while the dwarves cower in the collapsed tunnel.  But in the movie Smaug plays cat and mouse with the dwarves, who shrewdly draw him into several Loony-Tunes style traps (the last being especially absurd) and tongue-lash him with constant taunts until he flies off in a rage to demolish Laketown, inexplicably leaving Bilbo and the dwarves behind to keep an eye on his treasure. 

Not only is such a conclusion to the “fight” just poor writing, the entire sequence diminishes the dragon’s splendor.  By demeaning and humiliating the monster, the dwarves remove that terrifying transcendence of all possible harm that makes Smaug the ultimate nemesis.  Dragons in Middle-Earth can only be harmed if struck in the armor’s chink, though they can be stolen from and outwitted in a game of words when their own malice and arrogance are used against them.  But to bound about and physically abuse the dragon (even to no end) just smacks of lazy story-telling – to say nothing of the ridiculously Hollywood-trope laden “fight” scene, what with molten gold, sabotaged masonry, and carriage rides that could have been lifted right out of Temple of Doom. 

Just…Why?

The one question that has been growing in my mind for the last year is a giant question mark.  Why, with all the money, resources, talent, and international goodwill did Jackson deviate in even the smallest way from Tolkien’s marvelous and carefully crafted achievement?  I am not even angry anymore, simply baffled and mildly disturbed.  Such ambition was never out of reach, but the whole project has been – to judge from the spectacular successes of ten years past – completely out of character. 

I have heard an argument that this is a long movie and must necessarily be different from the book, what with all the extra information.  Yet I don’t see how that could be, since the very nature of a long movie versus a short book means that every opportunity to be true to the book is present.  Part of what made Jackson’s LOTR so breathtakingly masterful was its faithful adaptation of Tolkien’s intricate narrative (though some might disagree).  My edition of The Lord of the Rings has The Fellowship of the Ring clocking in at 387 pages, The Two Towers at 330, and The Return of the King at 285.  That means each movie had to cover on average 334 pages, and that does not include the extra content, such as the amazing introductory sequence about Isildor and the Ring or the crucial romance between Aragorn and Arwen.  By contrast, my Hobbit is only 289 pages long, leaving each of these new movies a meager 96.333~ pages to tackle before getting creative with the LOTR Appendices.  Yet for reasons unknown, Jackson decided to completely abandon The Hobbit in favor of something more in keeping with Hollywood stereotypes. 

So while it was definitely entertaining, we are not amused.  The Desolation of Smaug is spectacular after the fashion of CGI movies, but as with the changes imposed on Unexpected Journey proves again to be much less interesting than what Tolkien himself originally devised.  In this way Smaug is, for me at least, the low point in Jackson’s tenure as Middle-Earth’s official film-maker. 

[There is another plus: as soon as the credits started to role, a boy down in front yelled, “It can’t end now!”  Yes, young man, it most certainly can end.  You must learn, as I did ten years ago, to wait a whole twelvemonth for the sequel!]

"Mt. Doom" isn't lazy!

I have discovered a blog after mine own heart.  Though I must disagree with the author in the humor behind the MEME that faults Tolkien for choosing a "lame" "plain" name for the volcano in Mordor (otherwise known as Orodruin), the short essay's thesis is pleasing to my inner Tolkien nerd: "‘Mount Doom’ was not chosen to be vaguely menacing, like some comic book villain calling himself ‘Dr. Doom!' Tolkien uses the word ‘doom’ in a very particular (and very old) sense, which has huge symbolic significance for the story as a whole."

http://observationdeck.io9.com/what-does-tolkien-mean-by-the-word-doom-1166561920

Merry Christmas!

Jesus Christ, "being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness.  And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross!  Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father."  ~Philippians 2:6-11

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Letdown

[I originally intended to write this review the day after I first saw The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey.  At the time, I was still in a huff over the (as I saw and see them) unreasonable deviations from the original book, but after a few initial notes I put off what I hoped to make a masterpiece of cinema criticism until such a time as I could devote proper attention to the effort.  Then the first ad for The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug arrived and I decided that now was the time to inform the public of my views, but before I could get started again the blue-ray edition of the first movie was released, which seemed a more appropriate date, etc.  Now, a year later and only one week from the premier of the anticipated sequel, I have finally taken time to finish what I started.  My original discontent over Jackson’s adaptation has since dissipated and I confess myself a terrific fan of the new trilogy.  So while I remain disappointed by what The Hobbit could have been, I prefer to think that Jackson’s Lord of the Rings was so breathtakingly masterful that any subsequent efforts will naturally pale in comparison.  Mr. Jackson, it is easy to criticize from an armchair, my hat is off for realizing my childhood dreams ten years ago, and I look forward to your new interpretation this Christmas!] 

I read a review of the Lord of the Rings trilogy in PS3 Magazine a few years ago that started with the line, “Peter Jackson is going to heaven.”  Regarding the first trilogy, I am in complete agreement, and if God allowed me a place on His tribunal, Jackson would definitely have my vote.  Yet if that is true on account of his work of ten years gone, then this new endeavor looks to be a one-way ticket to Purgatorio.  Whereas The Lord of the Rings trilogy is almost completely true to the books, including most of the added material that Tolkien only hinted at, Jackson’s An Unexpected Journey better fits with the “based on” attribution appropriately applied to works by Disney.  That is not to say that An Unexpected Journey is not any good, it is just not The Hobbit.

What it got right

First, let me pause to point out that which is simply amazing about the movie.  In keeping with his style from LOTR, Jackson’s realization of Middle Earth is absolutely stunning.  The dwarvish dominion of Erebor evokes the almost Babylonian culture only hinted at in Gimli’s character of ten years ago, as do the elves of Mirkwood for Legolas; the human trade city of Dale is cast in a Tibetan-steppe realization of Venice, given its location to the northeast of Middle Earth; and the previously established locales are faithfully reproduced from Bag-End to Rivendell.  New Zealand returns in all its taunting glory through Jackson’s beloved wide shots, in which characters both new and returning go traipsing past monuments and backdrops that will bring tears to the eyes of Middle-Earth fans. 

The filming, too, is first class, combining both the previously seen camera work with the latest CGI, easily on par with the very best that Avatar had to offer.  While I have not watched An Unexpected Journey in the new digital style that garnered much attention in pre-release reviews, the quality of the filming itself was certainly marvelous.  The Shire’s green possesses an intensity verging on neon, while the mounds of gold in Erebor are all but blinding in the torchlight as Jackson utilizes extreme contrasts of lighted areas set against darkly shadowed recesses.  This is put to best use in a breathtaking battle sequence that explains Thorin’s background after the loss of his home to the dragon, wherein uncountable dwarves and orcs engage in a swirling slow-motion melee that picks out each and every sword swing and war face in metallic detail.  

Battle of Azanulbizar

As for the casting and character design, somebody has a knack for perfection.  In addition to the returning cast, the dwarves broke every Hildebrandt brothers and Alan Lee stereotype out there, and within the first several moments each dwarf is a unique man.  The one sad thing about this plethora of newcomers is that many of them remain unremarkable past their truly remarkable appearances and one-liners.  I read an interview wherein Jackson said that he was afraid of attempting to film The Hobbit on account of the sheer number of main characters, and this fear appears to have unfortunately played out onscreen, with most of the dwarves remaining more or less one-dimensional until the hugely entertaining escape from Goblin Town.  Though I must observe that The Avengers managed to make something out of each of their heroes, if just briefly, perhaps it is too much to ask for regarding a cast that, even in the original, was really restricted to two or three lead dwarves.  

General Storyline Abuse

So in many ways, the Hobbit feels remarkably different from its predecessors, much like the new Star Wars trilogy when compared to the classics.  Such positive changes are indicative of an artist at work, Jackson’s style, techniques, and tastes fluctuating with the progression of his career.  But it is in the content of the movie, in the actions of the cast and the dialogue, where An Unexpected Journey takes a drastic turn from before.  In some ways, this takes the form of what might pass for writer’s block, or as though the screenwriters spent the weekend rewatching LOTR to get in the proper frame of mind, and thus sadly letting too much of the old trilogy infuse their new work.  This is first noticeable in the little odes to The Fellowship, which are certainly welcome, such as Gandalf’s repeated entanglements with Bag End’s chandeliers.  But the wizard does not stop there, instead looking to Moria’s Balrog scene as he again pulls a Moses and breaks a stone with his staff, and later gathers up a convenient moth to reenact the calling of the eagles.  Through Gandalf’s antics alone, one begins to suspect that one has seen this movie before.  But Jackson does not stop there.  As did Frodo in the Prancing Pony, Bilbo discovers the power of the Ring through an unfortunate tumble and superhuman dexterity and presence of mind that lands the Ring on his finger, recreating that iconic shot in every detail except Elijah Wood’s horrified intensity.  The wargs on the trail invoke a clunky Dark Riders/uruk-hai hybrid (more on that below), and the final boss fight even sees Thorin beaten down a la Sean Bean’s Boromir, complete with a menacing orc preparing the final blow before Aragorn (or in this case, Bilbo), executes a flying tackle from stage left at the last moment.

But besides Gandalf’s unfortunate special awareness in Bag-End, all is well until Thorin and Company leave the Shire.  Then comes the meeting with the trolls, wherein Bilbo is fussily pushed forward to try his hand at robbery.  But here the content drastically breaks from that of the book: Tolken has the adventurers caught up in a rain storm when they catch sight of the fire, which promise of warmth and shelter entices them into a trap, a tense yet humorous event as Gandalf reappears to pull some mimicry shenanigans to save the captured dwarves.  In the movie adaptation, however, Fili and Kili notice that some of their ponies have been stolen, which prompts them to send “the burglar” to investigate and/or free the poor animals.  Before long, Bilbo’s cover is blown as he attempts to spring Myrtle and Mindy, and the trap is replaced with a riotous melee that showcases the mad fighting skills of the dwarves, complete with somersaults and similar acrobatics, whereafter Bilbo takes on the role of distracting the trolls til daybreak.  Is such admittedly tame adaptation really that objectionable?  Sadly (with the exception of the brilliant fight scene), very much so.

Now I realize that there were some changes made to the books’ plot in the original trilogy, many much more drastic than that just detailed above.  Faramir became a Ring-grabber, Treebeard was such a gentle giant that it took Hobbit ingenuity and a lecture to convince him to dismantle Isengard, and the ghosts of Dunharrow made themselves known on the Pelennor Fields.  These were jarring moments, to be sure, and even now I cringe a little inside when Faramir goes dragging Frodo, Sam, and Gollum into war torn Osgiliath, but each of these changes did not derail the book’s plot or ruin major character development (Faramir lets Frodo leave, Treebeard still calls the Ents to battle), and in the case of the ghosts, it helped maintain movie integrity.  In the Return of the King, Aragorn drums up the ghosts for battle, not outside the gates of the White City, but at the Stone of Erech some three hundred miles distant, and then they proceed to whup swarthy pirate tush in a swashbuckling ghostly hunt that sees off the raiders and frees up vital militia forces, who set sail on the captured vessels (after Aragorn releases the ghosts) and land at the docks at Harlond in time to save the beleaguered Rohirrim.  Almost all of this occurs “offscreen” and involves several sub-plots and narratives, to say nothing of numerous extra support characters, all lovingly detailed by Tolkien in such a way as to demand space for a fourth entry in Jackson’s trilogy.  So much as I would have loved to see an extra two hours tucked into the middle of an already stuffed blockbuster epic, the decision to promote the ghosts to the front lines of the War of the Ring makes perfect movie sense. 

Not so, The Hobbit.

The Orc

As a much shorter work, The Hobbit is perfect for fleshing out to trilogy dimensions.  Its characters are diverse and many are fully developed, it draws upon a rich history that Tolkien had already been crafting since his tenure in the trenches of WWI, and hints at whole episodes that occur, again, “offscreen,” such as Gandalf’s sleuthing expedition to Dol Guldor, which is indeed a major plot point of the upcoming Desolation of Smaug.  But far from remaining faithful to the book’s program, Jackson decided to throw a wrench into Tolkien’s finely tuned gears: Azog, the Pale Orc. 

Sinister? No, the symmetrical scars are merely disturbing

The inclusion of Azog in An Unexpected Journey feels downright bizarre and comes off as depressingly corny: rather than the scruffy Ahab seeking vengeance upon the White Whale for the loss of his leg, we find a white orc (who bears compelling resemblance to both a shark and the alien villains from I Am Number Four) seeking vengeance upon the scruffy Thorin for the loss of his arm.  To be fair, the derivation is all Tolkien, who crafted a glorious dwarvish history that culminates in a battle on the front step of Moria, and featuring Azog, Thorin, and other worthies of the Tolkien universe.  But here is the crucial bit: Azog dies.  Yes he kills King Thror, yes Thorin snatches up an oak branch in lieu of a shield, but Azog is gutted by good dwarvish steel at day’s end (actually by Thorin’s younger cousin, Dain, but let’s not split hairs).  Why bring him back?

There are a couple different reasons that come to mind.  With the third movie fast approaching, one wonders if Jackson was perhaps seeking a more concrete rationale for the appearance of goblins and wargs at the Battle of Five Armies, and so decided to draw upon the perhaps-underplayed orcish/warg relationship hinted at in The Two Towers and Return of the King, while tying in the final events of An Unexpected Journey: the wargs, orcs, and burning trees.  This seems a bit unnecessary to me, since Tolkien already thought up a reason for the final battle: Azog had a son, Bolg, who apparently had some sort of vendetta against Dain for his father’s death (to say nothing of dragon treasure).  There it is, Mr. Jackson, problem solved!  A few scenes of plotting and scheming would have set Bolg up as the perfect “unexpected” villain, set to burst on the scene for movie #3. Interestingly, I believe Bolg is slated to appear in The Desolation of Smaug, though what role he plays in the film remains to be seen.

More likely, though, the episodic dangers facing Thorin and Company did not strike Jackson as threat enough compared to the Black Riders of The Fellowship, so he threw in a pack of angry wolf riders to give Thorin an archenemy worthy of a grudge match.  But here is the problem with this twist: Thorin does not need an archenemy, he has Smaug, the dragon that destroyed his childhood home!  “But isn’t Smaug far away and unassailable?  He’s a dragon!”  The former point is of little consequence; after all, many villains appear only at the end of the journey, and sometimes only a few seconds’ worth of appearances at key points in the narrative are all it takes to remind viewers of whom they are to hate.  As for the second point, since when did heroes need to actually chop on their enemies?  There are many examples of protagonists engaging far off or intangible foes: Scarlet O’Hara swore to defeat poverty at all costs in Gone with the Wind, William Wilberforce fought to end the trans-Atlantic slave trade in Amazing Grace.  Thorin Oakenshield does not need a special orc to make him a compelling and conflicted character.

Through Azog’s intrusion, the warg-riding orcs steal too much of the limelight and play havoc with the storyline, ultimately doing the tale more harm than good.  The addition of Radagast is an element that I was happily anticipating, as his whimsical personality makes a nice contrast with Gandalf’s gruff practicality and Saruman’s domineering authority.  But with the arrival of the orcs, the impact of Radagast’s message (“Sauron’s back!”) is lost in the rampage.  Better to have done away with the orcs and let the company have its danger in the trolls and goblins as Tolkien intended, and then Gandalf’s desire to visit Elrond would have gained added urgency following Radagast’s arrival (and let’s not even start on the unnecessary need to trick the dwarves into visiting Rivendell at all). 

The Hobbit

But the principal casualty of An Unexpected Journey is the book’s titular protagonist himself: Bilbo Baggins.  What Jackson did right in crafting this iconic character was his decision (and perseverance, if I have heard correctly) to cast Martin Freeman in the role of the furry-footed homebody-turned unforeseen hero.  Without a doubt, Freeman is Bilbo, and works innumerable quirks and mannerisms into his performance that capture perfectly the sort of person that has a certain amount of self-importance balanced with a unabashed desire to stay out of adventuresome people’s way, as well as a secret longing for adventure, provided there is an adequate supply of handkerchiefs on hand.  So in this way, Freeman’s portrayal of Mr. Baggins is spot-on.  But again, it is the content of his character, the actions and words that he performs, that woefully deviate from Tolkien’s careful construction.  On screen, Bilbo is the stereotypical Hollywood zero who must prove his worth in the face of verbal abuse heard in corny moments from behind closed doors. 

The beautiful thing about the Bilbo Baggins of The Hobbit is that he spends most of the book being miserable.  He misses his fire, his food, his smokes, and he greatly dislikes the uncomfortable amount of danger his adventures throw at him.  Added to his discomfort is the dismissive treatment received at the hands of the dwarves, who for the most part ignore him until his particular talents are most needed (i.e. the dirty work, which is itself a wonderful commentary on human nature).  He is never in the limelight, and only gains acceptance and respect as the level of his unexpected heroics rises.  Yet in An Unexpected Journey he is constantly on everyone’s minds, first snorted at by the adventuresome dwarves, then repeatedly told that he does not belong.  As if this was not Hollywood enough, there is even the obligatory “sneaking home” scene where Bilbo, offended by Thorin’s harsh criticisms, determines to sneak out and is stopped by the watchful and well-meaning Bofur in a stereotypical argument over the merits of the decision (complete with the groan-worthy unwitting-harsh-comment-about-your-flaws/apology/no-no-I’m-fine-you-go-ahead-and-leave exchange) as a wakeful Thorin listens in while pretending to be asleep. 

As a consequence of his inconsequential participation in the quest, it is the little things that make Bilbo such a compelling character in the novel, and I think this is what Tolkien envisioned all along.  Over and over again, Bilbo is faced with insurmountable obstacles, but when the most stout-hearted dwarf might throw up his hands in despair, or shut himself up in a sulk, Bilbo simply starts moving in the hopes of coming to some answer.  When lost in the darkness of Goblin Town, Bilbo decides that, rather than spend his time moping in one place, he would rather mope while on the move, and so sets out to discover what can be found at the end of the tunnel – he needs no outside prompting because the Took on the inside is driving him forward.  His seemingly random discovery of the Ring, his desperate riddles with Gollum, his escape out of the tunnels, all of these things are the product of a confused homebody wanting only to find a little daylight and something to eat – and once outside, he even comes to the agonizing decision to return to the tunnels in search of his friends on the basis of duty, a favor he soon learns the dwarves are unwilling to do for him. 

None of this is evident in the movie.  Upon waking in the goblin tunnels, Freeman’s Bilbo is not long alone, for Gollum suddenly appears, and though repugnant he clearly knows his way around the tunnels, so why not follow him?  Then he drops the Ring, in brilliant bright-on-dark-contrast slow motion, thus informing Bilbo from the start that this little circle of metal is precious to its former owner.  All agency has been removed from our furry-footed hero.  And that choice to return for his lost friends?  Never made, since Bilbo stumbles across them as they also exit the same cave.

What of the trolls and Bilbo’s cover blown, which was my first significant criticism?  Recall that in the book Bilbo’s Tookish side suddenly flares up for the first time and he sneaks forward to pickpocket one of the trolls, only to be discovered.  In the movie, Bilbo has to slip the troll’s knife to save the ponies, with the same result.  Again, loss of agency.  This before his assumption of Gandalf’s role as lead distraction as the trolls debate their culinary options.  Not only does the dialogue take on qualities perfectly asinine (honestly, “don’t eat the dwarves, they all have parasites”?) but Bilbo is again the zero with the golden wit, whom the jocks never anticipated.  True, Faramir’s character was changed just as drastically, but he was one support character in a Dickensian array of innumerable support, hardly to be compared with Frodo, Sam, or Bilbo. 

Then there is final fight scene, with Bilbo lunging in from the side and actually killing a full-grown orc – presumably one who has spent the entirety of his miserable existence fending off much bigger, nastier attackers striking at equal random.  This was so out of character that…well, that’s enough from me.

So with my main grievances aired at last, I can now rest easy in the knowledge that The Deolation of Smaug will not be The Hobbit 2.0, as the trailers have already clearly shown.  And it is this knowledge, I think, that allows me to appreciate Jackson’s new adaptation.  I went to the midnight release of An Unexpected Journey expecting to watch The Hobbit rather than a loose interpretation, and thus left with a bad taste in my mouth.  As such I hasten to add that none of this has stopped me from putting An Unexpected Journey Extended Edition on my Christmas list, and viewing with undisguised glee each trailer and TV spot that pops up in my Facebook feed.  So what if Azog’s forces his unwelcome snout into “Barrels Out of Bond”?  Lee Pace is Thranduil, the elves get their acrobatics on in the branches of Mirkwood, Evangeline Lilly’s Tauriel might not be as irritating as was Kate Austen of LOST, Stephen Fry turns on the sleaze as Laketown’s Master, and Smaug speaks through the tongue of Benedict “the Voice” Cumberbatch.  What is not to love?

For a more sympathetic reading of Jackson’s treatment of Azog, see MichaelMartinez

For a VERY good, if slightly profanity-laced review of the movie, see The Escapist

Did anyone read the book? - A short "review" of Disney's Frozen

"Frozen" is the new Disney Princess movie ostensibly based upon Hans Christian Andersen's The Snow Queen.

In The Snow Queen, young Kay gets a piece of cursed glass in his eye and another in his heart, turning him from gallant boyscout to snarky brat. On a seemingly unrelated note, the titular Snow Queen picks him up in her sleigh and to two make tracks for parts unknown, she erasing his memories and making him inured to the cold. Though everyone else thinks him dead, Kay's playmate, Gerda, vows to find her lost friend.

After getting swept away by a mischievous river, Gerda is taken in by a kindly witch, who also erases her memories into the bargain. Yet after an interview with talking flowers, Gerda's memories are restored and she continues on her quest, whereupon she meets a talking crow, who thinks he knows of master Kay, who is now a prince. Of course, the young man in question is not Kay (and is apparently much older on account of his princess bride), but the royal couple are decent folk and get Gerda kitted out for the next leg of her journey, which ends unfortunately with her magnificent escorts slain on a road and herself in a robbers' den. But she apparently wins over the robber lady's daughter, who gifts her a talking reindeer to ride into Lapland and Finmark as she works her way towards the Snow Queen's lair ("summer palace").

Upon arrival she is greeted by a host of bestial snowflakes, but just as suddenly Gerda's frozen breath turns into a superior host of angels that clear to way for her to enter the snow palace. Sitting on the floor is young Kay, crouched over an array of ice chunks with which he hopes to spell "eternity," the magic word that earns his freedom (though Andersen makes it clear that he yet remembers none of his past life and takes interest in trivial things like mathematics - I mean, that's in the story!) Fortunately for him, Gerda's tears melt away the glass shard in his heart and cause him to cry out the shard in his eye, while the sympathetic Ice chunks helpfully spell out the desired word, allowing the children to escape the palace before the Queen returns from her Italian holiday.

The crisis thus concluded, the children return home via reindeer to find the robber girl having adventures on her own, the helpful crow inexplicably passed away, and themselves full-grown, yet still children at heart - as explained by a perfectly random quote from Matt. 18:3

By contrast, Disney's "Frozen" (which you may recall is BASED upon the events detailed above) has as the main character a princess named Anna, as well as several young men, none of whom are named "Kay." There is also a (mute) reindeer and a snow queen with matching palace - for that matter, there is plenty of snow. But Disney also introduces trolls, snowmen, 8 songs, several blizzards, and Archduke Franz Ferdinand. That said, it was still a great way to spend Thanksgiving evening!