Pippin’s insipid “plan” in The Two Towers (which, oops, renders one of the oldest beings in Middle-earth a gullible fool) is easy to forget because the subsequent March of the Ents delivers tenfold. So why isn’t this a bigger deal-breaker than it is? Why didn’t audiences revolt en masse and chain themselves in front of LA’s Dolby Theatre to prevent The Return of the King from sweeping all those Oscars? It’s simple, really: Peter Jackson’s repeated efforts to drum up tension through utter nonsense - on some lizard-brain level of human consciousness - work anyway.Īs illogical, non-canonical, and awfully strained as the set-up to these pay-offs may be, Jackson, Walsh, and Boyens sure as hell know how to deliver. Extremely questionable! He begins his long journey home only to stumble across their missing food, theatrically swelling with rage and motivation to save his dear Frodo because he… now has visual proof that he did not, in fact, mistakenly eat their own food and forget about it?. Sam knows he’s innocent, but he meekly goes along with Frodo’s commands even if it means breaking his promise. This seemingly reverse-engineered outcome requires Sam to remain inexplicably passive in the face of Gollum’s obvious villainy, act uncharacteristically violent to justify Frodo’s reaction, and, most egregiously, look really slow on the uptake (even Elijah Wood and Sean Austin poke fun at this in the cast commentary track). ![]() The biggest casualty, however, is none other than our favorite bodyguard/gardener. Suddenly, at the most crucial juncture, the main thread of the trilogy feels hamstrung. (Siding with Sméagol’s redemptive potential over Sam’s well-established devotion will do that!) Meanwhile, the inherent tension in the Sméagol/Gollum duality is completely sapped, as his betrayal turns into a foregone conclusion. Instantly, Frodo’s likability takes a debilitating and almost unrecoverable hit. Image: New Line ProductionsĪs big a departure as this is from Tolkien’s book - and it is, in case non-book-readers haven’t caught on - the real pitfall of this scene is how very little of it makes any dramatic sense. The go-to method, apparently, is to inject otherwise frictionless storylines with character conflict - like, say, our hero banishing his best friend thousands of miles from home over misunderstandings about bread, choosing to remain alone with a loathsome creature very obviously up to no good - and hope that playing up the momentary, visceral sensations will compensate for any gaps in narrative or emotional logic. Author/video essayist Lindsay Ellis once amusingly coined the phrase “Forced Peej Conflict”, which describes a specific kind of plot contrivance Peter Jackson frequently relies on when adapting aspects of Tolkien’s work that (theoretically, at least) won’t translate smoothly on-screen. Cue the fraught confrontation, Sam’s ineffectual defense, and Frodo’s two harsh words that broke all our hearts: “Go home.”īut a cursory look at this scene unearths the strands fraying just below the surface. And poor Samwise, well-meaning to a fault, bumbles right into Gollum’s trap by offering to bear Frodo’s burdensome Ring himself. Gollum’s treachery compels him to chuck the last of their precious Lembas bread and frame Sam for the crime. The possessive and consuming nature of the Ring has almost completely overtaken Frodo, leaving him susceptible to manipulation and whispered suspicions. The entire affair between Frodo, Sam, and Gollum on the Stairs of Cirith Ungol seems straightforward at first glance. Again and again, bold swings of blockbuster filmmaking crash against Jackson’s B-movie storytelling quirks. The parting of Sam and Frodo, where the bond between our two lovable leads shatters due to irreconcilable differences (assisted by a third-wheeling Gollum), best represents the singular dichotomy at the heart of these cherished adaptations. It’s in this spirit that we take a microscope to one particular sequence I’ve obsessed over since I was an impressionable Hobbit-lad in 2003, bursting with anticipation in my theater seat as The Return of the King unfolded before me. Between effusive praise (nothing but respect for MY The Fellowship of the Ring prologue front-loaded with all that worldbuilding and historical lore) and head-scratching disbelief ( they did WHAT to Faramir in The Two Towers?), we can spin ourselves into knots trying to reconcile these two wolves within us - and within the films themselves, too. You can trust the most passionate (insufferable) among us, burdened with book-learned knowledge, to host annual trilogy marathons and debate ourselves in disturbingly Gollum-like fashion. So each Wednesday throughout the year, we'll go there and back again, examining how and why the films have endured as modern classics. 2021 marks The Lord of the Rings movies' 20th anniversary, and we couldn't imagine exploring the trilogy in just one story.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |