The Two Towers: Why The Ents Are Not as Annoying as the Ewoks

Essay Version:

Introduction (hook, context, thesis): What do Ewoks and Ents have in common? Ewoks are protagonists in The Return of the Jedi, one of the first Star Wars films. A fundamentally peaceful, woodland people, the Ewoks help the main protagonists outmaneuver and overcome the bad guys. The Ents, quite literally a woodland force (they resemble trees), supply equal help in defeating evil in J.R.R. Tolkien's trilogy, The Lord of the Rings. In both cases, these unexpected helpers turn the tide. The Ewoks, however, are far less believable than the Ents.

Body Paragraph (topic sentence followed by specific evidence): The Ewoks are unbelievable. They are cute and play clever tricks on the antagonists. For example, they use slingshots and other such devices to trick and tie up the Empire's stormtroppers. The Empire created a moon-size device that blew up a planet. Nevertheless, the audience is supposed to believe that cute and clever tricks can overwhelm and "outgun" the adversary. The suspension of belief regarding the Ewoks is too difficult to muster.

Body Paragraph (topic sentence followed by specific evidence): The Ents, however, are far more believable. The Ents go up against a corrupt wizard, Saruman. A force of nature, they destroy his dam and flood his compound, Isengard. In fact, they are galvanized initially by Saruman's destruction of their forest. In the book, specifically, they confer and come to a thoughtful and organized resolution: Saruman must be stopped. The Ents' patience and deliberate action makes them a formidable force demanding respect. 

Conclusion (restatement of thesis and points followed by a call to action): Although both Ewoks and Ents play important roles in their respective franchises and are also both linked to nature, Ents are ultimately more believable. The fact is, the sheer force of nature, from blizzards to volcanoes to floods, has played a role in human endeavors. Both Napoleon's and Hitler's armies came up against Russian winter and found themselves in less than advantageous positions. Some military historians believe that the English army won at Agincourt mostly because of English superiority with the long-bow but also because of the incessant rains. The ground was so muddy and churned up, the French horses never got up enough speed. They were taken out before their superior speed could reach the English lines (and this despite the English being fatigued and ill from those same rains). Cleverness is cute but the sheer impact of a blizzard on supplies or a flood on a home or a volcano on an entire mountainside makes nature a far more powerful force. The Ents not only use this force, they are this force. To find out more about Ents, check out Peter Jackson's second movie in The Lord of the Rings trilogy, The Two Towers, and read the source of inspiration, the book with the same title. You can find the book at the Portland Public Library and online at Powell's Bookstore.

Blog Version:

In both cases, a small force of innocent non-war-like beings go up against a powerful military force. 

The Ewoks are wholly annoying. They are cute and play clever tricks on the bad guys. Somehow the audience is supposed to believe that these cute and clever tricks can outwit and outmaneuver and "outgun" people who blew up a planet. 

Yeah, right. 

The Ents go up against Saruman. A force of nature, they destroy his dam and flood his compound, Isengard. 

And it's believable. 

The fact is, the sheer force of nature, from blizzards to volcanoes, has played a role in human endeavors. Both Napoleon's and Hitler's armies came up against Russian winter and found themselves in a less than advantageous position. 

Some military historians believe that the English army won at Agincourt mostly because of English superiority with the long-bow but also because of the incessant rains. The ground was so muddy and churned up, the French horses never got up enough speed. They were taken out before their superior speed could reach the English lines (and this despite the English being fatigued and ill from those same rains). 

And don't get me started on the problem of feeding an army! If weather keeps the food away...

Forget toilet paper--when a blizzard clears the local grocery store of all perishables within 24 hours, the message is clear: 

Nature don't care what anybody thinks. Supplicate it all you want. When the volcano blows...

Mount St. Helens, 1980

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--Sauron's War

SAURON'S WAR

Sauron's war on Middle Earth is somewhat more complicated than indicated in the movies. Sauron does not just attack Minis Tirith. His war takes place on three fronts, a familiar concept to a writer who had seen both World War I and II.

Excluding the war on Rohan (which is effectively won by the "Allies" by the end of The Two Towers), Sauron attacks Minis Tirith, Lothlorien & Mirkwood, and the country of Erebor (which includes Dale). The latter "front" is why a prescient Gandalf is so eager to oust Smaug in The Hobbit.

Tolkien discusses the three fronts of the war in his "appendices". And the novels hint at some of the events.  However, Tolkien utilizes his third-person narration with great caution, only occasionally breaking the current viewpoint to inform us of events in other locations. Otherwise, what a group of characters knows is only what can be known by that group of characters in that area in that moment.

Because Middle Earth is BIG, something that Tolkien never, never, never forgets.

Reading The Lord of the Rings is rather like reading about space--one is struck over and over by distance. When Gondor calls for Rohan's aid, it takes several days for the Rohan riders to get to Gondor. It takes Sam and Frodo nearly a week to cross Mordor. Consequently, there is little chance for people in one location to know what is occurring in another location--no satellite imagery, folks!

This is true even for the bad guys, which is a refreshing change from the omniscient bad guy that pervades so much current media. Sure, Sauron is evil. But he is as bound to the confines of his area as much as anyone else.

This is important and one place where Jackson makes a "mistake"*. At the end of The Two Towers movie, Frodo comes face to face with a Nazgul. He doesn't put on the ring, but Nazgul can (semi)sense the ring even when it isn't being worn (the Nazgul have left Mordor to attack Gondor by the time Frodo and Sam enter it). So the Nazgul (and Sauron) would know that the ring had arrived in Gondor. Yet in The Return of the King movie (as in the books), Sauron operates on the assumption that the ring is in Rohan.

Of course, in the movies, the viewer is led to believe that Rohan and Gondor and Mordor are practically next door to each other. In the books, Rohan is far enough away from Mordor that the ring's location pushes up Sauron's time table. He starts his war early because he thinks the ring has not yet arrived in Gondor, and he wants to retrieve it before it arrives there.

So, it's a "mistake." However, at this point, it is important to remember . . .

*MOVIES ARE NOT BOOKS*

One difference between books and films (there are many) is that visuals matter. I know that sounds obvious, but it leads to changes that upset readers. In a book, extra characters can appear and disappear, and nobody cares. In a book, a throw-away line can reference actions in other areas, and again, nobody cares. A book can also cover great distances in a single paragraph.

But do those things in a movie, and the audience will expect the character, reference, or distance to be paid-off. That is, the character, reference, or distance will begin to matter more than it should. Consequently, it must be excised in order to make the movie work.

It is not that movies are "simpler" than books. It is that movies are complex in a different way. Rather than expansion of events and characters (more, more, more), the audience is given depth of moments. In the books, for instance, we know Gimli and Legolas become friends through a series of events; for example, in Lothlorien, Legolas begins to take Gimli with him during his explorations.

The first movie can't shows us all that--Gimli and Legolas's adventures would be their own movie! Instead, it relies on moments: my favorite is when Gimli and Legolas are on the river; when Gimli praises the Lady Galadriel, Legolas smiles to himself. It is infinitely touching and says all we need to know about that relationship.

So I don't fault Jackson for ignoring the distances which Tolkien sticks to so assiduously--it's not like an audience wants to watch Rohan decide to respond to the fires getting lit and then . . .

Ho hum. "Are we there yet?"

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! 

LOTR--The Books This Time--Galadriel and Family

As I wait for The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug, I'm rewatching the extended versions of Jackson's trilogy and rereading the books. (I watch about 30 minutes a night; it's enormously relaxing.)

These posts will include various thoughts about Tolkien, mostly regarding The Lord of the Rings:

GALADRIEL

Galadriel as Saint

In the books, Arwen is a bit of a non-entity. She's there. She's beautiful. Aragorn loves her. Eh.

Galadriel, on the other hand, is as much a powerhouse in the books as in the movies--even more so (if that's possible!). She's pretty much all Catholic Saints rolled into one. She's mysterious, passionate, ambitious, kind, insightful.

Of all the "greats" to whom Frodo offers the ring, Galadriel undergoes the greatest temptation. For her, utilizing the ring would be a real possibility. While everyone else, including Saruman, would eventually cave to Sauron, Galadriel could hold her own and even, for a generation or two, prove a great and noble queen over Middle-Earth.

Only, it wouldn't last. And she'd lose her soul in the meantime.

Even in her non-exalted (in human terms) state, Galadriel figuratively haunts the books. She is a constant reference whose name is evoked by several characters at multiple points, hence my "Saint" reference. 

Regarding Galadriel's family:

Galadriel and Gandalf

I admit, even after reading The Silmarillion, I consider Galadriel's husband kind of a side-note and wonder, "So why did she marry him?" He's probably very noble in elf terms but kind of dull. Galadriel leaves one with the definite impression that she finds, say, Gandalf about ten times more interesting (that friendship is wonderfully portrayed in Jackson's Hobbit).

One thing not directly mentioned in Jackson's movies is that Galadriel is Arwen's grandmother, hence the rather coy discussion between Aragorn and Galadriel in Lorien concerning Arwen. In addition, Elrond's wife, Galadriel's daughter, was on her way to Lorien to visit her mother when she was captured and tortured by Orcs. Elladan and Elrohir, her sons (grandsons of Galadriel), are sort of the bad-boys of the elf-world and spend all their time hunting Orcs in revenge. Tolkien appears to have found the brothers of little interest since they barely show up in his records. He does note that they don't leave Middle-Earth with the other elves. Either they didn't want to leave their sister family-less or they liked hunting Orcs too much to give it up.

Elladan and Elrohir don't appear in any of Jackson's movies (by name) but apparently they show up in some games and fan films. They are usually portrayed as dark-haired, tall, and buff with a remarkable resemblance to Hugo Weaving--appropriate, yes?

Elladan and Elrohir are sort of a gift to fans since Tolkien created them but did nothing with them--even I have used Elladan and Elrohir in fan-fiction: talk about being handed "free" characters!

Thoughts on Fellowship of the Ring, Extended Version

The masterly Sean Bean quoting one of my

favorite lines: It is a strange fate that we should

suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing.

Such a little thing.

Following are my thoughts on Fellowship of the Ring, Extended Version:

1. Extended scenes--The extended scenes do add a lot. However, the one editing choice I have never understood--in both the theatrical and extended versions--involves Moria. There's an extra scene in there (that's not in the book) with a collapsing bridge. It goes on for about five minutes, and it is completely unnecessary. Jackson left it in the release-to-theater version and cut out much of Lothlorien scenes.

I think this was a huge mistake. Most of the women I've talked to, both those who like Tolkien and those who got dragged to the theater, wish there had been more Lothlorien in the release-to-theater version. It would have been very easy for Jackson to cut the completely unnecessary bridge scene and add more Lothlorien.

Yes, I know the movie was probably aimed at young men, but studies show that most successful movies attract both sexes, and it would have been such an easy substitution to make.

2. Lighting--Jackson's lighting is the weirdest thing in the world. I actually like it; it has a staged/picture quality to it. But it is strange. One minute everything is dark with cool, glowing lights all over the place. The next minute everything is in full sunlight with everything glinting. The whole thing is like watching CSI episodes over and over and over. Cool. But startling.

3. Casting--I consider The Lord of the Rings movies the best cast trilogy of, oh, the last 100 years or so. Okay, that's an exaggeration, but there are few book-to-movie films I've seen that completely and totally and without misstep cast the characters exactly the way I picture them. Except for Elrond, and I like Hugo Weaving so much, I don't care.

Interesting note about Hugo Weaving. Pre-Jackson, Tolkien's elves are portrayed much the way the Vulcans used to be portrayed before Star Trek: Enterprise came along: good and pure and wise and wonderful. And then Hugo Weaving showed up, and suddenly the elves (like the Vulcans) got edgy and a little annoyed and somewhat sarcastic. Which is frankly more interesting.

The glasses were added by a blogger!

About the hobbits: I know people confuse Merry and Pippin. I never did although that could partly be because I ran across Dominic Monaghan before Fellowship came out (Hetty Wainthrop mysteries). He isn't exactly like the Merry of the book, but he is given enough lines to clarify that he is the more perceptive and mature of the Merry and Pippin duo.

Sean Astin and Elijah Wood are perfect. I happen to think Elijah Wood's range of emotion was greater than Jackson pulled out of him. By the end of the first film, Frodo has been reduced to (1) scared and (2) more scared. If you watch the beginning of Fellowship, Wood displayed a much broader range. Frankly, I don't think Frodo interested Jackson much OR Frodo represented a type to Jackson. He gave all the ambiguity to Aragorn and Boromir.

I quite like Viggo Mortensen as Aragorn. The book makes clear that Aragorn is supposed to be scruffy and unattractive at first glance--a rangy Ranger with absolutely no appeal to civilized folk like Butterbur, the Prancing Pony owner. I think Mortenson pulled this off. He isn't as fine an actor as either McKellan (hard competition) or Sean Bean, but like Keanu Reeves, he knows how to act physically (which is pretty important!). The scene at the end of Fellowship where Mortensen walks down the hill towards the cast of thousands-De Mille crowd of orcs is frankly quite cool.

McKellan of course occupies his own class of perfection. And Sean Bean is so phenomenal that I hold him personally responsible for the cohesiveness of the latter half of the movie.

Which brings us to subplots.

5. Subplots--This is the third or fourth time I've seen the movie, the second time I've watched the extended version. The subplot with Aragorn is a lot clearer after that many viewings, but I don't think it was as clear as it could have been. The tension between him and Boromir, the (real) issue of Aragorn's allegiance, Boromir's (legitimate) concern for his people, and Aragorn's reluctance to test his rights to leadership are great themes and could have been emphasized. Not expanded because, okay, the movie is really long, but pointed to more clearly. There's lots and lots of implied dialog on these issues, delivered mostly by the masterly McKellan and Weaving, and the last scenes between Aragorn and Boromir are very effective, but the release-to-movie version really fell down here. (The extended version makes these themes much clearer. Even with the extended version, though, I think they could have been emphasized. I think Jackson, whom I like, is rather like Shyamalan, whom I also like: throw enough stuff at the screen, and you get a good movie. Which is sort of true. But sort of not.)

6. Speaking of the final scene--First of all, I never thought the Boromir being shot full of arrows scene funny. I can see why some people rolled their eyes, but I've got a C.S. Lewis-medieval knights-Beowulf fan inside me, and I've always thought it utterly chivalrous and honorable and gosh darn heroic! I also don't find it improbable. The human body can take an amazing amount of damage before it shuts down, as one realizes when one watches Civil War documentaries.

In fact, that whole last scene is my absolute favorite battle scene in the LOTR trilogy. It's exactly like a Civil War documentary, only with the added bonus of really old statues and much cooler armor.

And I love the chivalrous, heroic stuff. I don't think anyone but Sean Bean could have pulled off that last scene, but he is Sean Bean, and he did. His confession to Aragorn and his plea for his people, Aragorn's promise and his kiss on Boromir's forehead all hit a note of high medieval romance. It's better than King Arthur because stupid Launcelot isn't there to drip excuses all over the place.

Tangent-time: Questions have been posed (many by my brother) about why teenage girls get into stuff like yaoi and such--that is, why do many teenage girls and women get enthralled by male-to-male dedication/loyalty/devotion?

I think the reason is that these types of relationships don't imply subordination in the sense of weakness (Boromir is not weak for finally professing loyalty to Aragorn) and also because the relationship allows for objectivity. It isn't oh-now-I'm-in-love-I-must-immediately-lose-my-ability-to reason (and therefore get together with a guy who will beat me because I luuuuuv him so much). Both parties are allowed to retain their dignity.

I think this dignity is possible for female-male relationships, by the way; there simply isn't a whole class of classical literature out there that deals with it. (Dorothy Sayers and Jane Austen all by themselves do not constitute a class). George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans) wrote about the desire of women for this type of relationship with a male spouse/companion (and she had such a relationship herself), but she didn't succeed in creating one on paper: in Middlemarch, Dorothea marries a gasbag and then a self-promoting politician--a nice self-promoting politician but still--

Thoughts on The Two Towers, Extended Version

I consider the extended version of Fellowship better than the cut version. Not so with Two Towers. I consider the cut version (with one exception) to be far superior to the extended version.

I've seen the cut version of Two Towers several times, and I've always considered it pretty straightforward and streamlined. After seeing the extended version, I must congratulate Peter Jackson on making such intelligent cuts for the release-to-theater version. The extended version is downright convoluted. Talk about confusing! And I'm reasonably well-versed in Tolkien lore.

The extended scenes do carry some interest. There's an entire section between Boromir and Faramir which gives you insight into the brothers and their father, Denethor. A line is spoken which is echoed in the cut version: "Now is a chance for Faramir, Captain of Gondor, to show his quality"; when you realize that the line was originally spoken by Faramir's father, it lends the line (spoken the second time by Faramir) some pathos.

And it's nice to see Sean Bean again. But, still, the scene is very confusing. It's a back-flash, coming at a point in the narrative when we have cut away from the main action (Rohan) to Frodo. It's too many balls in the air and consequently gives the extended version a clunky feel.

Likewise, there are a number of scenes in the extended version that underscore Aragorn's identity as Isildur's heir. In the books, this is terrifically important. One reason Sauron gets so freaked out--if one can use that phrase about a big, evil eye--regarding the resistance of Gondor is that he believes that Aragorn is coming to reclaim his throne and that Aragorn has the ring.

In order to make this clear in the movies, Jackson would have had to make the whole Isildur/ Gondor/ Aragorn-as-Boromir's-boss thing just a tad clearer in the first movie than he did. So I think cutting that material in the second made a lot of sense.

Because, really, the Two Towers is about Rohan and the battle with Saruman's forces. Some of the best performances of the movie come out of this storyline. Bernard Hill as Theoden is nuanced far beyond what the role calls for, and he has some of best lines in the movie (hey, I have a yen for weighty dialog). Miranda Otto is marvelous. Karl Urban is totally underused but at least he shows up. And Brad Dourif as Grima is just about as good an ambiguous bad guy as a character can get.

The amazing Brad Dourif

There's a point near the end of Two Towers when Saruman sends the orcs out to trash Helm's Deep. Grima, standing behind him, begins to cry; it is so poignant, it rips at your heart. Here is a self-serving, nasty-minded fellow who believed that his self-serving nasty-mindedness was limited--he wanted a girl, he wanted a little bit of power. And then he discovers that the little bit of power he wanted to wield never mattered to Saruman; Saruman isn't interested in playing power politics with Grima; Saruman is interested in destroying every human being on the planet. It's a huge miscalculation based on evil intent. It's one of Tolkien's subtler moments (the crying isn't in the book but Grima's ambiguity is).*

Back to the extended version: The only scene I regret Jackson cutting between the extended version and the release-to-theater version is a scene where Faramir eulogizes a dead soldier of Sauron's. In both the book and the movie, some rather generalized soldiers from the South stomp up north to help Sauron. Tolkien doesn't say much about them although he gives them "Oliphants." Both Lewis and Tolkien have been accused of insularity in their use of bad guys from the south who bear about them hints of the Arab world. From today's perspective, it is hard not to assume both Lewis and Tolkien are responding to modern terrorism. In fact, however, their insularity is a tad older. They are responding to and utilizing medieval attitudes towards Arabs which extended back to Hannibal's elephants climbing the Alps to attack Rome.

Which doesn't make it any less insular, of course.

In any case, in the extended version, Faramir gives this nice little speech in which he pities one of the dead soldiers and says, in effect, "Why is his honor any less than mine?"

C.S. Lewis would have approved.

It's nice because first of all, it makes clear that Faramir is the more introspective of the two brothers and therefore, prepares the viewer for Faramir's rejection of the ring. It's also nice because I get tired of orcs (BAD GUYS, BAD GUYS, BAD GUYS) and their residences (BAD PLACES, BAD PLACES, BAD PLACES). I mean, really, what kind of civilization is Mordor? It is one big desolation; what do its occupants eat? I assume even orcs eat meat and carbohydrates. At least, I assume they don't just eat each other and rocks. [Note, I wrote this before my Mordor post.]

I don't have a problem with this most of the time because Tolkien was writing world fantasy with mythic good pitted against mythic evil, and the bad guys aren't automatically supposed to be Grimas (ambiguous and undecided villains). They are supposed to be bad. But I thought it was a nice touch to point out that badness has its own agendas and its own ways of garnering support. No way those guys from the South are stomping North because of some big eye. They're thinking, "What will we get out of this?" and Faramir's speech pointed that out.

However, Jackson may have thought he was cutting it close to the PC line with the "Oliphants" anyway, so the speech got cut.

He left in, however, one of the best lines of the movie given by Bernard Hill:

"What can men do," Theoden says to Aragorn, "against such reckless hate?" What indeed?

My second favorite line comes at the end of the speech Theoden gives right before the battle starts:

Where is the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing? They have passed like rain on the mountain, like wind in the meadow. The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow. How did it come to this?

Give Tolkien credit--Two Towers is one of the few pro-war/warrior movies I've seen where people spend a large percentage of the time feeling hopeless and wondering how things got so bad. Which is how good people usually respond to terror and war and reckless hate.

To end: in terms of weighty speeches, I don't even mind Sam's speech, but I confess that what I really like is the beginning portion--from Tolkien's point of view, there is no return, no going back to Exactly The Way Things Were. It's a principle fantasy writers should never forget:

It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened?

And Frodo's end is foreshadowed.

*For Voyager fans, Brad Dourif plays Suder, the sociopath who tries to control his sociopathy with Tuvok's help. There's a 2-parter where Suder--who has laid off the killing due to Tuvok's influence--must help save Voyager by killing intruders. The despair with which he agrees to this course of action is wrenching; he knows that once he starts killing again, there is no going back. The Voyager series was lucky to get Dourif!