Piles
Posts: 5531
Joined: 6/8/2007
From: Whalley Range
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The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001, Peter Jackson): 5/5
The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002, Peter Jackson): 5/5
The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003, Peter Jackson): 4/5
My appraisal of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, taken from www.CultOfCinema.com
About a month or so ago, I concluded a series of columns on Krzysztof Kieslowski’s Three Colours trilogy, which discussed each of the entries individually and then as a whole in a concluding entry. I’ve seen a handful of trilogies since then, and I’m not sure that I’ve seen a better one. In fact, only two come close; Satyajit Ray’s epic but humble series entitled “the Apu Trilogy”, and Peter Jackson’s epic and far-from-humble melodramatic fantasy opera, “the Lord of the Rings”. Jackson’s films are the most recent trilogy I’ve watched, or rather re-watched, this time as part of an all-nighter which saw me and a group of friends view all three extended editions back to back. Some might say sad, but others will say inspired, and I really don’t think there is a better way to kill twelve hours. And so, just as I was watching Frodo sail off into the horizon with Gandalf and the elves, it struck me that this series needed a proper appraisal.
That’s not to say I’m going to give this quite the methodical, technical, and critical going over that I gave “the Three Colours”, simply because “the Lord of the Rings” is not a film that can really hold up under too much critical scrutiny. Regardless of what I thought when I walked out of a packed theatre after “the Return of the King”, the trilogy is undeniably flawed. At times it’s cheesy and overly melodramatic, and some of the dialogue is poorly judged (“I can’t carry it for you… but I can carry you!”). Still, I don’t want to go into all of that, because that’s not what this column is about. Instead, it’s a testament to the things that Jackson did get right, and – to be fair – the positives do indeed completely overwhelm the negatives.
Let’s start, as you really should, at the very beginning. In the 1950s, JRR Tolkien published a ‘sequel’ to his 1937 work, “the Hobbit”. Far less complex and much more digestible, “the Hobbit” introduced the world which “the Lord of the Rings” would inhabit, and a few of its primary characters too. When asked for a follow-up piece, Tolkien provided this epic fantasy opera which, for all intents and purposes, was about as far away as you could get from the children’s fable without writing Wolverine slash porn. It is also, despite what my fellow contributor Darren Williams will tell you, a work of genius. It’s a multi-faceted work of art, with dozens of finely honed characters, a world as rich and textured and as well envisioned as our own, and a complex story which is all too often unfairly boiled down to ‘two people walking to a volcano’. But this column is about the films, right? Right. I just wanted to let you know that I am indeed a fan of Tolkien’s work, and wanted to set up the next part of this discussion, Jackson’s changes.
Of course, these are the sourest of points when it comes to Tolkien purists, and I’d say I’m half way in-between the opinions of the book fanboys and the filmic ones. First and foremost, I do believe that it was correct to cut Tom Bombadil out of the finished product. I probably wouldn’t have been caught saying that before I’d seen the first film (even though I read the books between viewings of the second and third instalments), but hey, I can see Jackson’s logic. It ties in neatly with a discussion of Faramir’s place in the films, because the changes to his character and the exclusion of Bombadil’s are both vital to the legitimacy of the film’s central drive. If Bombadil could flick the ring high up in the air, put it on his finger, take it off, and not flinch – and what’s more for this to happen in the film’s opening sequences – then all of what we’ve been lead to believe about the ring would be disproved. It’s the same with Faramir; his decision to ‘not pick up the ring if it were lying in the wayside’ would deflate the well-built aura of the golden band, and Jackson was sure to give the Gondorian archer an equally effective chance to prove himself later on in the film.
But then there is one, really quite major flaw that Jackson is the main perpetrator of. Of course, as far as our merry band of nine fellowship members go, there are more important travellers than others. The story is essentially about Frodo’s journey and Aragorn’s character arc, and there are other characters who make their way through it. The first instalment (when I talk ‘instalments’, I’m talking both book and film) puts Boromir close to centre stage, and Gandalf is never far from the fore throughout. However, and here’s where the book and the film differ, Jackson seems to see the ‘lesser’ characters of the book in a different manner to Tolkien. Pippin and Merry have their arcs in the book, but they are only half translated onto film. Even worse, Gimli and Legolas are reduced to comic sideshows, and certainly caricatures of their literary selves. Perhaps worst of all, Sam – who has his own journey, both emotionally and physically, to go through in Tolkien’s vision – is left as a sidekick, and even his defining moment in Cirith Ungol is played off as a fluke accident.
The characters that Jackson does get right, though, he gets right wonderfully. Gandalf is transformed from a second rate, deflated old man into a regal master over the course of twelve hours. Aragorn finds himself on screen. Frodo goes in reverse, turning from a wide-eyed, happy-go-lucky hobbit into a world-weary martyr. Boromir, helped out by a perfect bit of inspired casting of Sean Bean, is a brilliantly troubled soul in turmoil about his true calling in life. The supporting characters, like Theoden, Eomer, Denethor, and indeed Faramir, all have their perfect miniature character arcs that don’t draw away from those of the ‘more important’ protagonists, but seem just as important within the context of the film. I think, though, that Jackson’s biggest victory comes in the unlikeliest of forms; Treebeard.
My favourite chapter in the book is a sixty page meandering into topics and stories that don’t seem of the slightest importance in the grand scheme of things. That Tolkien is confident enough in his own skill as a story teller to forget about the preparation for Helm’s Deep and in deed the fate of Isengard, and instead discuss Ent moots and Ent wives for such a substantial period of time is fascinating. What’s more, it somehow works. It’s a marvel that, not once whilst reading that epic meditation on walking trees, did I yearn to be back with Aragorn or Gimli or Legolas, and instead was willing to dwell in Treebeard’s world, and be concerned with Treebeard’s thoughts. Jackson understands this, and it’s even more astounding when put in the context of a film. Granted, studio bosses – and Jackson’s co-writers Boyne and Walsh – wouldn’t allow him to put these huge tree-ish conversations in the theatrical cuts, but in the extended editions their re-instated. That Jackson is able to translate Tolkien’s wonderful tangent onto celluloid is miraculous, and the stories of the Ents ‘losing’ their wives is just as enthralling as Legolas skate boarding down the stairs at Helm’s Deep.
And let’s talk about Helm’s Deep, because it’s just a wonderful sequence in an already wonderful film in an even more wonderful trilogy. I think, if I were ever to draw up a list of the finest War and battle scenes ever committed to film, this would be up there with the finale of Klimov’s “Come and See”, the opening of Spielberg’s “Saving Private Ryan”, and the skirmish scenes of Herzog’s “Aguirre, the Wrath of God”. And yet, it does something much different to all of those films. Whilst Spielberg conveys the gritty realism of battle, Klimov presents a delirious representation of the horrors of war, and Herzog aims to display a visual metaphor of his crumbling characters, Jackson goes hell for leather for entertainment. There is such a drama within these scenes, both on a huge, epic scale and a personalized, character-orientated one. That we are so invested in Theoden and Aragorn and all of the others is primarily down to Jackson, and I’m even willing to overlook the ridiculous and unnecessary inclusion of the Lothlorien Elves when praising Helm’s Deep from both an action standpoint and a dramatic one.
You can probably see now that “the Two Towers” is my favourite of the three films, taking that prize away from “the Fellowship of the Ring” by just a head. Not only does it feature some incredible battle sequences (the siege of Isengard is enough to rival even the great Helm’s Deep), but there’s also the fabulous Treebeard sequences. What’s more, it introduces the Rohirim, who amongst them feature three of the series’ best supporting characters. Eomer is portrayed wonderfully, and is a man who wants to honour a country that has sent him into exile. Wormtongue, despite the fact that you can spot him out as a bad guy from about three miles off, is brilliant characterized, and is helped out by a fantastic performance by the Oscar winning (for “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest”, not this) Brad Douriff. Finally, there’s King Theoden, who may just be my favourite Tolkein supporting character. He’s a man living in the shadows of former, more impressive leaders, and one facing an insurmountable task. His death sequence in “the Return of the King” is possibly the best standalone scene in the trilogy, and Bernard Hill’s performance is nothing short of perfect.
As we’re talking about the film’s individually, I think it’s time that I discussed one of the most often derided aspect of this trilogy; “the Return of the King”. Or, more specifically, the ending of “the Return of the King”. Or, even more specifically, the many endings of “the Return of the King”. Jackson has been accused of over-indulgence, and – when you watch the film as a standalone experience – you almost have to agree with his detractors. These closing scenes, which introduce finale after finale after finale, feel a little bit of an ordeal, and after sitting through the incredible Minas Tirith siege (which falls short of Helm’s Deep, but is still great) it feels like a bit of a low after an incredible high. However, and here’s the important thing, the flaw of the standalone film is a strength of the trilogy as a whole.
Jackson could have very easily have ended the film after the Minas Tirith coronation. Heck, he could even have ended it as Frodo and Sam comfort each other on Mount Doom, at the end of all things. However, it’s important to note that that’s not how Tolkien wanted to finish it. For those of you that own the six book edition of the novels, you’ll know that the ring is destroyed about three chapters in to the final edition. However, Tolkien felt the need to continue for another eight chapters, tying up all the loose ends, crowning Aragorn, wedding Eowyn and Faramir, finishing of Saruman, and saying good bye to Frodo. When you look at the film, it’s already evident that Peter Jackson has taken the bare minimum of these endings. I mean, after spending ten or eleven hours with these characters, nobody would begrudge Jackson marrying Sam off. In fact, I’d feel hard done to if we said goodbye before Aragorn had a crown on his head or Frodo was sailing off into the Grey Havens to find his final piece. Maybe not as a standalone piece, but as a trilogy, every single one of those endings was needed.
Even with these apparent numerous finales, Jackson left out one that I myself found very vital to the book. Of course, I’m talking about the Scouring of the Shire. I think if Tolkien were still alive and had seen these films, I think there would only be a handful of things that would have upset him. One would have been Bombadil, one would have been Haldir’s death (he wasn’t even meant to be there!), and the third would be the Scouring of the Shire. Yes, I’m fully aware that the extended edition of “the Return of the King” gives us Saruman’s comeuppance, but that is not what it was about. Part of the book’s multi-faceted genius is that they’ve been through so much, walked to the edge of the world and tasted horrors that those around them could never dream of, and yet when they return to their homeland things aren’t right. That evil could penetrate even the most serene corners of Middle Earth is one of Tolkien’s most damning thoughts, and it also outs Saruman as a petty old man rather than an all-powerful villain. Falling from the roof of Isengard’s tower onto a spike is not how Saruman’s tale is meant to end.
Now I’ve gotten down from my high horse (seriously, the lack of Scouring is perhaps the only thing about the Rings films that actually annoys me), I’ll conclude with a thought about this trilogy’s effect on the filmic world. Yes, it was revolutionary in its special effects, and yes, it spawned about a thousand poor rip-offs under the banner of ‘fantasy literary adaptations’ (even Tolkien’s buddy CS Lewis got screwed over), but it’s most positive effect is the one it has had on DVD. It confirmed that the step up from VHS was indeed worth it. The features on the theatrical cuts are a bit thin on their feet, but the extended editions are a must-have on any film fan’s DVD shelf, and the wealth of wonders that they hold are second to none. They are a testament to what DVD can do, and although “King Kong”s features didn’t quite have the same wealth of interest, there’s no denying that Jackson – along with the people at criterion and the Monty Python crew – is one of the true pioneers of the new age of entertainment.
I understand that this column may have read like a mixture of fanboy praise, criticisms you’ve already heard, and things you already know, but hey, I felt the need to convey my love for this trilogy after an incredible eleven hours. There were two problems that I faced when coming to write this; I like the trilogy too much to be objective, and everything that has already been said about Jackson’s vision has already been said. Maybe I’ll write something about a lesser known series, or one that I have middling opinions on, but “the Lord of the Rings” still ranks amongst my very favourite trilogy, thanks to its mixture of epic battle scenes and personal characterization. It’s an experience, and anybody who hasn’t seen the series in one sitting and has any slight inclination to do so should do so now. It’s worth every one of the thirty nine thousand seconds you’ll lose.
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The Idiots (1998, Lars von Trier)
The self-proclaimed “best director in the world” caused controversy in Cannes ten years prior to “Antichrist” – the film that would bring him to mainstream attention thanks to a critical backlash at the festival – with “the Idiots”, a film about a perfectly intelligent group of young people who like to release their inner ‘idiot’ in public. It even had Mark Kermode shouting “mierde! Mierde!” before promptly getting kicked out of the auditorium. The reason for such controversy is because “the Idiots” plays host to scenes were able bodied people pretend to be mentally ill in a process which they call ‘spassing’. For me, this would only really be a problem is the film had no purpose and if the characters within it did not understand the impact of what they are doing. The fact that one of the film’s characters (Karen, played by Bodil Jorgensen) brings up the process and questions whether it is unfair to people who are actually disabled. It also has the characters at odds with themselves when they meet a real group of “retards”. More than anything, though, I feel that this morally questionable subject is acceptable because of the social commentary it has to offer. The reason that the characters act like idiots is to shock, to suggest, to annoy, and to disturb conventional minds, pushing the boundaries of what is acceptable. What’s more, it is a comment on how the everyday people of this particular Copenhagen suburb react to the group, and how people put up a facade of understanding and acceptance from a safe distance. The film’s very low-fi, Dogma look helps out in this goal, and at times it feels almost Documentary-esque in its realism, as if the cast has dropped in on some unsuspecting victims. More than anything, though, the film is a comment on doing what it takes to be happy in a world where most are miserable. There are a few minor flaws here and there. The orgy is completely unnecessary, and the penetration shot seems to be present simply to get tongues wagging and people to see the film. But hey, it’s von Trier, and I guess you’d expect nothing less from Europe’s agent provocateur. It gets by thanks to its themes, photography, and superb, quite powerful performances. 4/5.
Audition (1999, Takashi Miike)
I’m now of the opinion that this film is best viewed completely cold, with no pre-conceived notions as to what to expect, so if you’ve not seen the film yet, I advise you to stop reading here. “Audition”, the first Takashi Miike film that I’ve managed to see, tells the story of Shigeharu Aoyama (Ryo Ishibashi), a man who lost his wife to illness some seven years ago. Finally deciding that he’s over it, he decides to look for another woman to replace her. And so, what is the most sensible way to go about finding a girlfriend? That’s right, get your movie producer buddy to set up a mock audition and find thirty potential candidates to choose from. It’s amazing how “Audition”, which has a reputation that precedes it by miles, starts out. Rather than the hell-for-leather, base horror that I was expecting, “Audition” begins like a gentile romance. And this is its key success; in beginning as if this were a run-of-the-mill drama, Miike lures his audience into a false sense of security… even those of us who know what is going to happen a little further down the line. He drops a couple of hints, like the imposing image of the chair in the middle of the shiny new audition room – which is oddly unsettling, but never really gives Asami away as the maniac that she so obviously is. When things take a turn to the worse, Miike does indeed go hell for leather, introducing some excruciating (to watch) torture and unprecedented gore. “Audition” has the insane ability to merge a small scale, gentile art house drama with a base, torture porn style horror, and it does so perfectly. It’s not all good; I don’t think Miike can make up his mind as to whether he’s on Asami’s side and condemning Aoyama for his one-time objectification of women, or if he has sympathies only for the male, and I would question how scary – not repulsive, scary – “Audition” actually is, but for the most part its an interesting, well directed, and exquisitely performed film that will certainly live long in the memory. 4/5.
Fanny and Alexander (1982, Ingmar Bergman)
This five hour epic film from the master of Swedish film Ingmar Bergman, which I viewed in four segments as it was released for television, is often considered the summation of his work. I hate the term ‘summation’, because it implies that the entire career of a director has been adding up, or leading up, to this one film. It implies that this is as good as all of his previous films combined, and that they exist only to give the director the tools he needed to make this film. Of course, that’s utter rubbish, because I would find it hard to consider “Fanny and Alexander” even in the same league as some of Bergman’s early work. It’s overly indulgent (even for Bergman), and its ridiculously giant running time could easily be cut (part of me wonders if the shortened version would be more agreeable) to something much more manageable and digestible. It’s no “Seventh Seal”, “the Silence”, or “Through a Glass Darkly”, put it that way. However, it does have its virtues, and there are many of them. The themes which “Fanny and Alexander” discusses are numerous and important, including the innocence of childhood and the importance of the theatrical art. It also shows Bergman’s theatre background off to great effect, and the film does feel like it’s been custom built for the stage. What’s more, the characterization is just about perfect. Alexander’s character arc, bearing in mind that this is the boy whose perspective we see the entire film from, is wonderfully built, going from a happy and buoyant young man to a deflated pariah in his own family within the space of a couple hours. The final images, too, which imply that Alexander will never quite be free of the memory of the priest, are just about as haunting as you’ll find in cinema. There are many sequences where time seems to fly, but there are others when it grinds to a halt, and although the content may make this Bergman’s most accessible film, the excessive running time is certainly a negative. 4/5.
Bunny and the Bull (2009, Paul King)
Stephen (Edward Hogg) stays at home all day long, watches eight hours of Ray Mears’ Extreme Survival, files his dental floss and urine, and brushes his teeth for exactly the right amount of time (not necessarily in that order). However, he hasn’t always been like this. In fact, just a year ago, he and his best friend Bunny (Steven Farnaby) had just won two and a half thousand pounds on a bet and were about to go inter-railing around the continent. Visually, the film is brilliant, with King drawing from the hyper-colour of “Boosh” wonderfully. Things move out of the background, whole scenes take place in snow globes, and the majority of the scenery is hewn out of cardboard. The horse race, which takes place near the beginning of the film in the opening flashback, is a certain highlight. It’s an almost monochromic animation which doesn’t care about looking rickety or half-hearted. In fact, it’s all the better for it, because with this flimsiness (and unprecedented whimsy), a certain amount of charm and amiableness is inflicted onto the audience along with a sense of awe. I don’t think we’ll see a comedy with a better look for at least the rest of this year, and perhaps until Gondry gets back on the ball after the awful “Be Kind Rewind”. And here is where the key flaw of the film lies. It’s certainly reminiscent of Michael Gondry, both in the visuals (“Science of Sleep”) and partly in the story, too (“Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind”). Both Eternal Sunshine and this have protagonists living in the past, dwelling on memories, and unable to move on with their lives. The cardboard cut-outs and background rickety-ness are also reminiscent of Gondry, a lot of the whimsy and surrealness finds its home in Kauffman, and the opening gambit – which I’ve already lauded for its silliness and humour – feels like a carbon copy of Marc Forster’s “Stranger than Fiction”. And then there’s “Withnail and I”, in which an anxious, paranoid young man and a boisterous yob – who you can’t ever see being friends in real life – take to the road for a holiday. It’s not like “Bunny and the Bull” is plagiaristic about these things, and it does carve its own identity thanks to its very different humour, but that it is so reminiscent of these better films makes the whole thing feel overly familiar and a little bit redundant. 3/5.
O (2001, Tim Blake Nelson)
Unfortunately, the film I watched most in the winter of 2007 was this good-not-great Shakespeare adaptation, “O”. It’s a modern re-telling of my favourite Shakespearean play, “Othello”, with the Venetian military exchanged for a High School basketball team. Its lead character is Odin (Mekhi Phifer), the MVP of the team and the only black student at a white-dominated high school, who dates Desi (Julia Styles). Hugo (Josh Hartnett) is the jealous friend out to get him, and Michael Cassio (Andrew Keegan) is the pawn in his plot. If you excuse the clumsy puns on the original names, there is quite a bit to like in “O”. It doesn’t disgrace the great playwright, and although it is pretty obvious that Blake Nelson and screenwriter Brad Kaaya do nothing to further the themes and ideas present in the original play, it’s worth watching for its good performances and its modern setting. The angst and the jealousy of Iago feel at home on the shoulders of Hartnett’s Hugo, and at times you feel that these motives are better suited to high school – where hormones and oestrogen fly more regularly than arrows – than the Venetian upper military. But then there’s the flaws; O’s complete u-turn is so uncharacteristic, and a seemingly level-headed youth is reduced to a homicidal, moody martyr in the space of a few scenes. The scene where Odin competes in a slam-dunk competition is horrible, exchanging the intensity that it could definitely have played host to for cheese and contrivances. I’ve never been a fan of Julia Styles, and every time I see her wooden, unchanging mush I get horrible flashbacks of my sister playing “Save the Last Dance” on a seemingly never ending cycle. Doing my A-Level English Lit essay on a comparison between the language used here in comparison to it in Shakespeare’s original was interesting enough, but only as a study of the audience rather than of the material itself. Both were made for a certain time and place, and it’s well worth noting how this time and place has changed over a few centuries, but the film itself feels rather redundant and unnecessary. Josh Hartnett is very good, though, and although the clichéd voiceover interrupts his flow on several occasions, he does a good job in a role that Frank Finlay and Kenneth Brannagh near perfected in the past. 3/5.
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Top 100 Moz Songs / Top 100 Films
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RE: Top 100 Films I've Watched This Year: 2009 - 
The actor is so completely made of awesome that he could even have made Dog Soldiers entertaining. 
I really didnt have a problem with the script. Just about every joke seemed to hit, and visually I did think some of the backgrounds were excellent (like the ice cream one, or the avalanche). But yes the character movements were probably the best bit of the animation. So where would this fit now in your animation list for the year? 
Purely for nostalgia,for some reason watching this with my dad as a kid has always stuck in my head.It was on a wee while back and I missed it then too. 
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