LOTR--The Book This Time--The Eagles

The eagles show up in The Hobbit and in The Lord of the Rings as eucatastrophic figures. The term is Tolkien's, so couldn't he have used the eagles to fly Frodo into Mordor (not just out)?

No.

Breathable airspace is breathable airspace even in Middle-Earth, and Tolkien kept his fantasy world as close to realism as possible. Magic supplements--never replaces--the plausible action of Middle-Earth.

In other words, eagles could never fly higher than Winged Nazgul. Or faster.

Eagles are also not indestructible as the Battle of the Five Armies (both book and movie versions) indicate. They can be killed by ground weaponry (i.e. arrows) and certainly other winged creatures. Plus Sauron's giant great eye has power of its own: call it an anti-missile defense system. In sum, Mordor is fairly immune to flying stuff. The eagles would be spotted immediately.

Gandalf and Elrond's entire plan rests on secrecy. Sauron must never suspect, even for an instant, that the Fellowship's goal is to destroy the ring. The moment he did, Sauron would naturally block access to the volcano, both from the ground and from the air. He would not "systematically empty Mordor," a process that allows Frodo and Sam some degree of freedom as they creep across Mordor's landscape.

Of course, this begs another question: Is it believable that Sauron would never suspect that his enemies intend to destroy the ring?

Yes, it is.

When reading about WWII, one becomes aware of how much the Nazis believed in their own untouchability. Note, I wrote, "Nazis," not the German army or, for that matter, the German submarine commanders. The German army and navy were composed of a mix of good and bad and indifferent leaders like in any nation's military. (And many of them despised Hitler.)

It was Hitler--and Hitler's paranoia--that insisted on maintaining constant wireless communication with the German military, a state of affairs that led to the British eventually breaking Enigma. It was Nazi wishful thinking that led to the bizarre and successful career of double-agent Garbo.

The Crossing by Peter Fiore, a more realistic portrayal

than Leutze's famous painting.

To back up to a group of far less fanatical--and far less degenerate--commanders, British complaisance allowed George Washington to escape New York and led to the completely unanticipated rebel attack (and victory) on Trenton on Christmas Day. A severely diminished army, the American rebels nevertheless routed the surprised Hessians, incurring for the Americans only 2 deaths (both from frostbite).

It is easy in hindsight to see the obvious (and I'm sure if Sauron had lived, heads would have literally rolled), but Sauron's weakness is his inability to believe that anyone would actually destroy the ring. Although he captures and tortures Gollum, he misses what Gandalf and Elrond have not: Gollum may be obsessed with the ring, but he lived for generations under the mountains without feeling compelled to do much more with it than catch orcs to eat. Gollum, however corrupted, has the same stamina and indifference to power that make Bilbo and Frodo good bearers.

Sauron isn't totally imperceptive: should Aragorn, Galadriel, Boromir, even Gandalf--any of his "real" rivals--don the ring, they would sooner or later be drawn into the dark. They might momentarily eclipse Sauron (hence his worries about Aragorn); in the long run, however, they would be drawn to his ways: dominion over the lives of others. A military rival is something Sauron dreads yet something he can handle.

Consequently, Sauron reads in Gollum the very thing he sees in others and himself: desire for the ring. He fails to notice the intrinsic toughness that will eventually undo him. Gollum, however ruined by the ring, is hobbit-like enough to eventually care only about wearing it, not wielding it over others. And that indifference to power is something Sauron cannot comprehend.

"The Lord of the Rings--The Book This Time" posts address the following topics:

Galadriel 

Boromir 

Orcs 

Fatty Bolger et al. 

Poetry 

War 

The Ring! 

Frodo

Mordor

and Frodo as True Hero

LOTR--The Books This Time--Thoughts on Villains and Heroes

(This post is an expansion of a previous post and includes material from that post plus new thoughts.)

Tolkien creates ambiguous villains and flawed heroes.

Take for instance Jackson's brilliant casting of Stephen Fry as the Master of Laketown in The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug. The personality that Tolkien ascribes to the master is fully realized in Stephen Fry (who can capture pompous-political-nabob better than anyone on record).

The Master of Laketown's portrait.

In the book, the master is extremely self-serving and coolly political. He funds Thorin's expedition because he believes that the dwarfs are impostors who will die in the wilderness as soon as they run out of food. He doesn't for a moment expect them to succeed! However, despite disbelieving their claims, he sees no reason not to capitalize on their popularity! What a politician!!

Jackson simply builds on this--it is ALL in the book. And Tolkien put it there. Not all his villains may be as subtly drawn as the Master. But his heroes are real heroes, not cookie-cutter heroes-as-already-constituted (just add fairy dust). They battle doubt (Sam), indecision (Aragorn), lack of resources, pride, uncertainty, death (Gandalf), curiosity (Pippin), fear (Gimli), and even corruption (Frodo). Their heroism lies in their doggedness and persistence.

In Tolkien's world, villains--like Saruman--are those who have given in to (political) fear and self-deceit. Saruman believes that HE can handle Sauron. He will do a little evil, so that in the future he can do good. But of course, all his justifications hide a selfish nature that is willing to push people around, especially if those people are "just" hobbits (see the end of Return of the King, book version).

Tolkien's heroes, on the other hand, are those who manage to stave off dread, no matter how much dread they might feel. One of the most touching parts of Gimli's story occurs when he follows Aragorn and Legolas on the Paths of the Dead. Despite being a mountain dweller, this particular journey terrifies him. And yet he doesn't turn back. Likewise, the terror of Mordor doesn't prevent Frodo and Sam from trudging forward, step by step. Courage isn't the point so much as a refusal to despair.

Tolkien's heroes also show awareness beyond themselves. In the trek across Mordor, Sam has a revelatory moment when he sees the stars through Mordor's smog. He thinks, "Ultimately, the world keeps turning. Everything we are doing will be over and done with. Life continues." Sam is experiencing less a warm and fuzzy "This too shall pass!" moment and more a cold realization that historically speaking, he and Frodo don't matter all that much. It is an astonishing piece of objectivity smack dab in the middle of the worst trial of the trilogy.

Most importantly, Tolkien is merciful. Heroes don't have to be heroic all the time. They often fall. Whether they allow themselves to be buried by the fall or not dictates their heroism. Denethor ends a villain, yet Théoden ends a hero. One despairs; the other climbs back on his horse (literally). Likewise, Frodo ends a hero because he remains sane and kind after Gollum takes his finger and the ring ("I'm glad you're with me, Sam Gamgee, here at the end of all things."). Boromir protects Merry and Pippin with his life, willingly confesses his part in the dissolution of the Fellowship, and pronounces his loyalty to Aragorn.

To put all this in the vernacular: Either you get the bear or the bear gets you. Just make sure you end getting the bear.

"The Lord of the Rings--The Book This Time" posts address the following topics:

Galadriel 

Boromir 

Orcs 

Fatty Bolger et al. 

Poetry 

War 

The Ring! 

Frodo

Mordor

and Frodo as True Hero

LOTR--The Books This Time--Frodo as True Hero

FRODO AT MOUNT DOOM

Tolkien is rightly perceived as the man who, alongside C.S. Lewis, brought fantasy to the modern Western world. Granted, it was here all along, even in America. But the popularity of The Lord of the Rings and the Narnia books opened up markets in the West for British and American writers--and later, manga writers--of sword and sorcery. Alongside the growth of mystery novels (and, much later, the elevation of romances), I call this the Genre Revolution!

Here is the "however": although Tolkien is responsible for (re)establishing all the classic elements of a fantasy novel--the quest, the companions, the magical item--he didn't stick all such elements in a bag, shake them up, and say, "Hey, here's a fantasy!" The elements did not dictate content (in fact, one could argue that Tolkien, like Lewis, was so steeped in Norse and Anglo-Saxon tales and legends, he didn't even realize how consistently he was utilizing such elements or motifs).

Consequently, when Tolkien brings Frodo to Mount Doom, he does not have Frodo simply toss the ring in on the classic justification that he is the hero--ergo, he can do everything!

Sam & Frodo's trip takes a week. Aragorn attacks

Mordor at the top-hand Northwest gate. As the

map illustrates,  this would distract the eye at Bara-dur.

The ring has been a true burden, not a token one (ha ha). No one else could have carried it so far, as Gandalf and Galadriel acknowledge when they refuse to take it. By its nature, the ring consumes a person's will. It is the ultimate nothingness which sucks up light and hope and thought. It must have an impact, and its impact must go beyond the physical (although it does weigh Frodo down). Frodo must be affected psychologically in order for the entire trilogy not to be a waste of time. The pay-off must merit the problem.

Frodo doesn't throw the ring in Mount Doom. I know some people consider this a lack of heroism, but to me, Frodo's heroism is everything he has done before arriving at Mount Doom, everything that makes the climax possible. Gollum's arrival is not a deus ex machina; Gollum is there precisely because Frodo made it possible for him to be there. Like his uncle, Frodo spared Gollum's life (Frodo more than once). Frodo used Gollum (in the absence of other guides) to lead him into Mordor. Frodo crossed Mordor despite great weariness, bringing himself, the ring, and Gollum in his wake to the crucial place and exactly the right time.

Martin Freeman as Bilbo contemplating

what to do with the pitiful Gollum.

To me, Tolkien is painting the ultimate picture of grace, and I find it downright comforting. Frodo--who has suffered so much--is only required to do what is possible, what he can do, what is within his abilities. He is stretched to the limit, but in the end, he isn't expected to be some supranormal superhero who can do everything and resist everything, etc. etc. He is only supposed to be himself.

Consider that Frodo surely tells Gandalf and Aragorn what occurred at Mount Doom--he did lose a finger! No one reproaches him. No one behaves as if he was a failure. He is, rather, honored by wizards and men and elves. The point is that he got the ring where he said he would against fearful odds, not that he adopted the proper role of "hero" at the proper time.

Tolkien is completely underestimated in this regard. Since he was writing world fantasy and since he created a good versus evil story, his comprehension of basic human nature is sometimes ignored. Granted, C.S. Lewis was a little more obvious and direct in his explorations of human fallibility and variability. But it's all there in Tolkien!

LOTR--The Books This Time--Mordor

MORDOR

Some of the most impressive passages in the books involve Sam and Frodo's trek across Mordor. The description is gripping, suspenseful, and gut-wrenching. It is also utterly modern.

Tolkien wields language with terrible exactness. High people speak in high romantic language. Low people speak in the vernacular. Saruman and his orcs speak like politicians and mobsters.

The chapters covering Sam and Frodo's trek are the most modern-sounding of all the chapters. The writing is steady, remorseless, and completely free of romance. Tolkien employs almost no tell--lots and lots of show. And the journey seems endless: a trudging, terrible march that both hobbits continue out of loyalty to a promise rather than any great belief in the journey's outcome.

It is, in fact, the most heroic part of the novel.

Sam's Most Heroic Moment--closely

paired with his decision to

give up the ring.

As discussed in the next post, Frodo does not finish the quest with a noble act; he doesn't get rid of the ring. However, Tolkien's chapters make clear that Frodo and Sam's true heroism resides in this trek, specifically their unstopping endurance. Nothing else in the books is so closely detailed. Nothing else in the books is so minutely followed. The Riders ride. Gandalf dashes about. Aragorn makes kingly appearances. People fight. Stewards kill themselves. And all the while, two hobbits slowly, inexorably make their way to Mount Doom.

It's mind-blowing.

Tolkien also clarifies a point that the movie (by necessity) brushes past. When entering Mordor, both Sam and Frodo ponder its desolation, remarking that it isn't much of a civilization. Tolkien as narrator explains that neither Sam or Frodo can see (1) Mordor actually does have towns and businesses, even fresh water and some food production (to the southeast); (2) Mordor receives a  tribute from lands held under its dominion; these goods come up from the south on roads far beyond Mount Doom. (Mordor is really big.)

In later posts, I will address the ending at Mount Doom as well as the eagles--yup, I'm going to discuss the eagles!

"The Lord of the Rings--The Book This Time" posts address the following topics:

Galadriel 

Boromir 

Orcs 

Fatty Bolger et al. 

Poetry 

War 

The Ring! 

Frodo

Mordor

and Frodo as True Hero

LOTR--The Books This Time--Frodo

This extremely clever pastiche or tribute

by Mechtild portrays Frodo the way

Tolkien appears to have seen him.

FRODO

Let me get Elijah Wood out of the way first: I think physically he was the perfect choice for Frodo. Overall, I enjoyed his performance in the LOTR movies. I am very glad he has shown up in the latest trilogy even if his appearance in The Unexpected Journey proves that men gain considerable breadth in their shoulders after their early-20s.

He doesn't quite capture the Frodo of Tolkien's trilogy, though it is hard to say if this is due to the script, Jackson's direction, or Wood's youth at the time.

Tolkien's Frodo is almost exactly like Wood's Frodo with one exception: Tolkien's Frodo has an almost otherworldly air right from the beginning. Where his uncle is down-to-earth, even a little vulgar (in the older meaning of the term), Frodo is more . . . refined, for lack of a better word. Where Bilbo goes on little jaunts for the sake of adventures and to meet up with friends, Frodo seems to go for the sake of being alone; like the Arthurian poets, he seems to want to be captured by fairies and dragged underground.

Bilbo, on the other hand, always likes to return home to his books and his pipe.

Frodo's more refined, "princely" nature means that unlike his uncle, he assumes leadership/authority over his traveling companions. Where Bilbo is willing to join a group (and then leave it when it becomes tiresome), Frodo is destined to be a group's leader or prophet. Sam is his best friend--but also his servant. Even Gollum/Smeagol swears allegiance to Frodo "on the ring".

Frodo Accepting Gollum's Oath: "The Ring will hold you to your word."

Throughout their journey, Sam and Gollum defer to Frodo's wishes and higher status, including when they encounter outsiders, who behave accordingly. Faramir, for example, assumes Frodo is in charge; in response, Frodo falls back on an almost stern authority/composure that his milder uncle never exhibits.

This status (and the noblesse oblige behavior that comes with it) is partly forced on Frodo but also part of his intrinsic nature. The otherworldly part of Frodo--the saint-like part--becomes more and more pronounced during his journey to Mordor. He isn't merely exhausted (as Wood ably portrays). He is almost exalted, his more comfortable, human characteristics burnt away. Perceiving this, Sam reflects that Frodo will eventually become as clear as glass, a comparison associated with saints, poets, and other rare beings. 

Like the Fisher King, Frodo is permanently wounded by his trials. Like Joseph Campbell's monomyth hero, he returns home so changed, he can never settle back into his previous life. Bilbo is granted a place on the ship to the Undying Lands out of respect and kindliness. He could as easily stayed. Frodo, however, must go. He has become too remote, too otherworldly to rest easy in Middle Earth.

Wood does capture some of Frodo's kingly, mystical attributes--as when he deals with Gollum. However, perhaps by necessity, the final movie dwells mostly on Frodo's weariness. Hints of Tolkien's approach are there; I can't help but wish there were a few more. 

"The Lord of the Rings--The Book This Time" posts address the following topics:

Galadriel 

Boromir 

Orcs 

Fatty Bolger et al. 

Poetry 

War 

The Ring! 

Frodo

Mordor

and Frodo as True Hero

LOTR--The Books This Time--The Ring

THE RING

In his excellent book, J.R.R. Tolkien: Author of the Century, Tom Shippey tackles Tolkien's use of evil. He makes the valid and fascinating point that Tolkien treads a line between Boethian and Manichaean views of evil, between a view of evil as coming from inside us (humans create evil through their bad desires and choices) versus coming from outside us (goodness and badness are in eternal and external conflict; every person has to pick a side).

Shippey points out that Tolkien deliberately treads a line between these two views. Tolkien's approach isn't clumsy; rather, he uses the inherent tension between the two views to reflect on the human condition--because sometimes the badness we face is the result of our choices and sometimes the badness we face seems to come from something external, bigger than our simple, petty selves.

Shippey also tackles critics' arguments over Tolkien's use of the one ring, pointing out that it is not simplistic magic. He proposes the metaphor of "addiction" to explain how the ring works throughout Tolkien's trilogy.

I agree that addiction is a good metaphor for the ring's effects--with a caveat. I think it comes down to addiction + ambition.

The addiction element is definitely at work: the more the ring is used, the more it enslaves its owner; it engenders "cravings"; the closer it gets to its "source" (think stash), the stronger the cravings and more concentrated the dose. Consequently, the ring has less effect in the Shire than it does in Gondor.

But the intrinsic character of the user, specifically regarding ambition, is a major factor. Bilbo, after all, uses the ring quite often in both The Hobbit* and before he gives it away in The Lord of the Rings (Meriadoc learns about the ring years before Frodo inherits it; he saw Bilbo use it to escape encountering the Sackville-Baggineses!). 

Bilbo's protection/immunity is that he exhibits zero interest in running anything: a dwarf company, village, town, kingdom . . . He additionally demonstrates a complete readiness to hand over his "estate" to Frodo when the time comes--only giving up the ring proves difficult.

In other words, Bilbo is the ultimate Libertarian-mind-my-own-business-leave-me-to-my-hobbies kind of guy. Consequently, the ring has little power over him. He is the only person other than Sam (who is quite similar in personality) to give up the ring voluntarily.

In fact, Bilbo's disinterest in politics/power/anything much except food, his book, and his nephew reminds me of a passage in The Screwtape Letters: the devil Screwtape complains to Wormwood that a man can protect himself against the temptations of high society vanity and pompousness by a simple taste for liver and onions. I have been similarly protected against literary snobbery throughout my educational career by a taste for children's lit, mysteries, and romances; I'd rather read supposed tacky, simple books for my own enjoyment than grand prose for others' prestige.

Gandalf, troubled: the ring is THAT ring.

Addiction + character explains why Gandalf so resolutely refuses to even touch the ring. And why Galadriel, after a struggle, refuses it so graciously.

Because both of these people are, let's face it, ambitious. Gandalf is part of the Wizard's Council; at one point, Galadriel wanted him to be its head, and Gandalf appears to have been willing. He certainly doesn't balk when Galadriel finally, definitively, clads him in White (symbolizing that he has now taken Saruman's place at the head of the Council)! He does mingle with hobbits. He also mingles with kings and stewards to whom he gives solicited and unsolicited advice. 

Galadriel, as Tolkien's extra notes make clear, is a rather restless person. Generations before the events in LOTR, she left the Undying Lands voluntarily (it is not hard to imagine Galadriel, like Cordelia in heaven, proclaiming, "I'm so bored!"--right before she got on the ship for Middle Earth). She wears one of the three Elf rings. She was not entirely opposed to the dwarfs occupying Moria.  This is not a lady who would ever be satisfied with a "little" life.

Give either one of these very good people the ring and instant addiction-to-power. So they refrain: if only more politically-minded people showed such restraint!

The point with Galadriel and Gandalf is that leadership and ambition are not by themselves evil . . .

RATHER . . .

The ring does greater harm to those with worldly ambitions. 

Its corruption is inevitable since unchecked and unbalanced, the desire to get ahead can become a demand for respect, then for compliance, then for domination, followed by an obsessive need to enforce a particular vision or plan  "for the good of others" no matter what the cost.

Some LOTR philosophers argue that a truly perfect being or at least one entirely without ambition--like Tom Bombadil--could never be corrupted by the ring. Possibly. But most of Middle Earth is filled with beings who behave like, well, people. Whether it be "original sin" or the "natural man," the desire to bonk YOU on the head for the sake of MY PRECIOUS will eventually overcome any fellow feeling. Even Bilbo only gives up the ring at Gandalf's insistence. (Bilbo's lack of lasting corruption is where free-will comes in--as well as Gandalf's refusal to take the ring by force.)

The ring's insidious nature is necessary to Tolkien's plot. The entire trilogy rests on the belief that the ring is bad and MUST be destroyed. If the ring can corrupt such good and noble beings as Gandalf and Galadriel, the author must be telling the truth.

The Latest Movie  
Spoilers ahead!

*Jackson, of course, has to be more focused in how he uses the ring, especially if he wants The Hobbit movies to dovetail with The Lord of the Rings movies. Consequently, in The Desolation of Smaug, the ring does begin to corrupt Bilbo.

While in Mirkwood, Bilbo momentarily loses the ring. When it is stepped on by a big insect (not a spider), he goes berserk, attacking the non-offensive insect with unrelenting viciousness (I've seen the movie twice now; the insect only steps on the ring; it doesn't head for it).

After the insect is dead, Bilbo leans over, picks up the ring and says to the dead creature, "Mine!"

He then collapses--at which point, Freeman demonstrates what an amazing actor he can be: in a few moments, simply through his mobile face, he takes Bilbo from self-satisfaction to exhausted relief to utter bewilderment ("Was that me?") and finally to flabbergasted horror. Unlike everyone else in the movies, including Frodo, Bilbo looks at the ring with disgust. The ring is so not who he is, he makes the connection and is revolted.

Throughout the remainder of this second film, Bilbo shows hesitation about using the ring. He will, if necessary. But he is less enamored of it than he was before (although he doesn't get rid of it).

It is powerful acting and storytelling. Kudos to Freeman and Jackson!

LOTR--The Books This Time--Hauntings

I will now address Tolkien's poetry, specifically poetry about . . .

"All Shall Fade."

THE DEAD

I must admit--I'm not a huge fan of Tolkien's poetry. In this last rereading, I allowed myself to skip most of it. However, in rewatching the movies, I realized how many times Jackson drew on Tolkien's poetry for the soundtrack. Pippin's haunting ballad to Lord Denethor is actually taken from The Fellowship of the Ring. It is a stanza from one of Bilbo's walking songs.

In the original context (which I provide below since many websites "misquote" Jackson's rendering as "Tolkien"), it is a far jollier song, but it has those elements that Jackson used so skillfully:

Home is behind, the world ahead,
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadows to the edge of night,
Until the stars are all alight.
Then world behind and home ahead,
We'll wander back to home and bed.
Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,
Away shall fade! Away shall fade!
Fire and lamp, and meat and bread,
And then to bed! And then to bed! (Fellowship, Book 1, Chapter 3)

In general, I find Tolkien's prose--rather than his poetry--far more evocative. Gandalf's quote about a green country, spoken so tenderly by Ian McKellan in the third film, comes from the prose beginning of Chapter 8 in Fellowship, a fact that I would have discovered only with great difficulty if not for Tolkien Geek.

What I remember most from the Tom Bombadil chapters is Chapter 7, Frodo's vision of Gandalf, and Tolkien's lovely descriptions of rainfall.

Tolkien utilizes clean, deceptively simple prose. It is especially haunting when he discusses the sea. However, my favorite line about a literal haunting comes from the end of Book 1, Chapter 2 in The Return of the King when Aragorn fetches the oathbreakers:

The Shadow Host pressed behind and fear went on before them . . . the township and the ford of Ciril they found deserted, for many men had gone away to war, and all that were left fled to the hills at the rumour of the coming of the King of the Dead. But the next day there came no dawn, and the Grey Company passed on into the darkness of the Storm of Mordor and were lost to mortal sight;  but the Dead followed them (my emphasis).

When I read this line, I remembered reading the book years earlier--that emotional memory came flooding back, including the shiver down the spine . . .

LOTR--The Books This Time--Fatty Bolger and Other Great Scenes

A clever photo creation of Fatty!

As well as dialog, Tolkien was a master at creating evocative, sometimes heart-rending images that linger in the brain.

FREDEGAR BOLGER AND OTHERS

One of my favorite images occurs in The Fellowship of the Ring and involves a character not mentioned--or at least not emphasized--in the movie: Fatty Bolger.

Fatty is one of Frodo's friends who stays behind in Buckland to provide the pretense that Frodo is still living in the Shire. Although Fatty is unrepentantly straightforward about his desire to stay out of dangerous situations, he nevertheless ends up in a dangerous situation. While some of the Black Riders are off chasing Gandalf and others are lurking in Bree, still others are sniffing around Buckland (this division of labor is why Frodo is not attacked by all the Riders on Weathertop).

At the beginning of Chapter 11, the Riders break into Buckland and ransack Frodo's home. But Fatty Bolger escapes. He runs desperately for help; due to his efforts, the Horn-call of Buckland is sounded, and the Riders are chased off.

It's a great scene, however short. And starts with a terrifying set of images:

The house at Crickhollow [in Buckland] stood silent. Fatty Bolger opened the door cautiously and peered out. A feeling of fear had been growing on him all day, and he was unable to rest or go to bed: there was a brooding threat in the breathless night-air. As he stared out into the gloom, a black shadow moved under the trees; the gate seemed to open of its own accord and close again with a sound.

Yikes!

Tolkien could definitely write horror when the mood was upon him: consider the brief but terrifying image in Return of the King when the orcs lob the heads of dead Gondor knights over the walls of Minas Tirith (yep, that's in the book).

Many of the movies' (more positive) iconic images also come straight out of Tolkien's text: Gandalf on the top of Saruman's tower; Eowyn standing alone on the steps of the Golden Hall in Edoras; Pippin and Merry sitting back and smoking at the ruins of Orthanc; the troubling yet necessary capture of Smeagol/Gollum at the Forbidden Pool; the crown of flowers about the king statue's head; the far less positive and disgusting image of Shelob (now, there's a nightmare for you!).

I so love it when a director respects his original text--even if he changes it, the respect shines through!

LOTR--The Books This Time--Bad Guys Talking

This Uruk-hai from The Two Towers is a reasonably good
commander. He sticks to his orders, doesn't hurt
Merry & Pippin and keeps the Mordor
orcs at bay. He also gets everyone
killed, but hey, he's an orc!

THE ORCS

Tolkien was a master of language. Usually, that sentence is followed by a discourse on Tolkien as philologist and inventor of Elvish, etc. However, I am going to follow it with a discourse on Tolkien's excellent dialog.

Tolkien, thankfully, did not go in for forsoothly stuff; he was too good a philologist for that ("forsoothly" dialog didn't sound "forsoothly" to the people who spoke it; it just sounded current).

What he does do is provide dialog that sounds perfectly natural coming from whichever creature--elf, hobbit, man, orc--is speaking. It's not just a matter of content but of cadence and word choice.

And he is very, very good at bad guy dialog.

As mentioned in earlier posts, Tolkien is often seen as a creator of static worlds--BAD GUYS (who are very, very, very bad) and GOOD GUYS (who are very, very, very good). To be fair, Jackson's films tend in this direction (at least when it comes to the bad guys) simply due to lack of time and space (when he can, Jackson inserts ambiguity).

In the books, however, the bad guys are far more complex and ambiguous than initially appears.

For instance--

At the beginning of The Two Towers, the orcs carrying Merry and Pippin begin to argue. There are three groups of orcs--one from Orthanc (Saruman's citadel), one from Mordor, and a group from Moria, who are ticked about the Fellowship getting away. Each group has its own agenda. The group from Moria are basically nobodies and are treated accordingly by the others. The groups from Mordor and Orthanc, however, represent opposing positions of authority (Sauron v. Saruman) and argue and threaten each other from within those positions. Saruman's orcs carry the day due partly to numbers, partly to location, and partly to having a clearer mission. Saruman's orcs are also a tad less unpleasant (think Italian fascists arguing with Hitler fascists; if you were being hauled somewhere on a train, you'd want the Italian fascists to win).

What is so chilling about the dialog is (1) the orcs don't talk about themselves as being evil; (2) they sound like a bunch of politicians.

That is, Tolkien doesn't have the orcs say stuff like, "But we want to destroy the universe, ha ha ha, so we are going to use these hobbits ill. Down with goodness!!"

In fact, Saruman's group of orcs keeps the hobbits from getting (more) hurt; their reasons are loyalty (hey, these are our orders!) and self-interest (why should we care what some other unknown bad guy wants?).

In fact, self-interest rules! The groups argue about who is in charge and whose boss has more authority. The orc from Mordor tries to "sell" his idea of using a Nazgul to transport the hobbits. At one point, a whole bunch of blame starts being slung around, especially when the orcs are cornered by the Riders from Rohan.

If all you had was the dialog--sans the label "orc"--you'd think you were listening in on some labor dispute between union officials.

Tolkien is very clear that Sauron is EVIL. Everyone else, however, including Saruman, is merely bad. There's a very funny exchange at the end of The Two Towers (overheard by Sam) in which the orcs discuss how, once this stupid war is over, they look forward to good old ordinary pillaging--

Because, geez, who wants to be stuck in some awful country with a big roving eye anyway?

LOTR--The Books This Time (Mostly)--Boromir

BOROMIR

Boromir of the book is a far less congenial character than in the movie. Part of this is his personality. Tolkien goes out of his way to remind us that Boromir is stern and honorable--and stern. And honorable. And, by the way, stern.

It is one of the few places in the trilogy where Tolkien falls back on "telling" the readers how to feel rather than "showing" them.

And it rather backs the argument that in The Fellowship of the Ring, Tolkien was still struggling to bring his epic into focus.

Compare Boromir to Faramir: Faramir spends far less time on the page and yet--without "telling"--Tolkien is able to present a clear and captivating personality, one who is also stern and honorable (although Faramir is rather more insightful). 

Jackson's solution was to take the two brothers, mix them up, then divide their qualities. Consequently, Boromir of the movies, played by the exceptional and highly charismatic Sean Bean, gains some of the warmth that in the books at least mostly resides in his younger brother.

This is important because members of the Fellowship, especially Merry and Pippin, have to mourn Boromir's passing. And if the reader/viewer has never come to care for Boromir, why should anyone else? (Readers and viewers are entirely self-serving.)

Jackson almost effortlessly gets us to like Boromir, so effortlessly I was reminded of Red Letter Media; while reviewing the second Star Wars movie, Attack of the Clones, "Mr. Plinkett" grouches that Lucas expects us to believe that grown Anakin and Obi-Wan are friends without showing us that they are friends.

The first time I watched the review (which I mostly agree with), I thought, "Oh, come now, Mr. Plinkett, give Lucas a break on this one; how was he supposed to show us their friendship without giving us, heaven forbid, a fourth film?"

And yet Jackson accomplishes this task with only a few small scenes. My favorite is when Boromir is teaching Merry and Pippin to fight, inadvertently strikes one of them in the hand, and instantly apologizes--after which they mock-wrestle him.

There's a few other moments like this. Added up, they mean that when movie Boromir dies--in one of the most goshdarn heroic scenes ever filmed--the audience cares. 

Since Tolkien pulls off a similar feat with later characters, I think the first book was definitely still in the "where exactly is this heading?" stage.

In fact, to give Tolkien deserved credit for Boromir, the end of the first book where Boromir tries to take the ring from Frodo is magnificently written: Boromir's efforts at persuasion; his resentment over Frodo's seeming indifference to the problem; his growing rage which is broken not when Frodo flees but when Boromir stumbles and falls followed by Boromir's aching self-awareness and remorse (this is so perfect psychologically, it always makes me release a very long breath--woah) . . . 

That's all Tolkien! And was translated almost perfectly from book to film.

Tolkien was writing world--rather than character--fantasy, but in later posts, I'll discuss Tolkien's ability to create these perfect little character-related gems: strong, complex, sometimes ambiguous and often heart-breaking moments. Thankfully, Jackson used many of these moments!