Review of Peter Jackson’s The Fellowship of the Ring (2002, Todd R. Long)

I’m one of the long-time fans of J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings. It is my favorite artwork. I won’t claim that it is the greatest work of art, but I believe that it is a masterpiece. With the exception of the Bible, no other work has had such a salutary effect on my life. Given this background, many will think that I was bound to be disappointed by any film version. I don’t buy that argument, since I never expected any movie to express what is inexpressible through film. But for four years I have looked forward with great expectation to Peter Jackson's The Fellowship of the Ring, the movie corresponding to the first volume of Tolkien’s book. During that time I often thought of what would be achievable by such a film. I expected that many scenes, as well as many travel sequences, wouldn’t make it within the socially acceptable notion of film length. I figured that Tom Bombadil would be nixed, that certain characters and dialog would be compressed or cut, and that the director would take some creative liberties.

All this is true of Peter Jackson’s movie version, and yet it is a fine film indeed. The sets are all spectacular, and Jackson expresses them all, I think, within the acceptable boundaries of core Tolkien fans. The Shire, the Prancing Pony, Rivendell, and Lothlorien are especially well envisioned. The great care and considerable talent of the multitude of artisans enlisted to bring Middle Earth to life is evident in every hobbit door, pub tankard, statue, and elven vestment. Long scenic shots are often breathtaking. Most special effects are superior to any comparable ones from other films, and Jackson makes especially good use of color: the subtle luminosity of the Elves is expressed nearly perfectly, the fiery scene on the bridge of Khazad-dum is awe-inspiring, and the sequences in which Frodo wears the ring vividly express the spiritual danger of so terrible a burden. The acting is superb. There are no weak performances. Ian McKellan as Gandalf, Christopher Lee as Saruman, Ian Holm as Bilbo, and Elijah Wood as Frodo, should receive Oscar nominations. Wood’s Frodo is spot-on, even if he appears a bit younger than Tolkien fans will expect. The other hobbits are well-played, as are all the other major characters. Fellowship has most everything one might want in a movie: high drama, measured suspense, fabulous sets, humor, gutty action, and genuine emotion. The short weeping scene, after the journey through Moria, is especially well-crafted. It and other scenes will touch all but the hardest hearts. Despite its 3-hour length, the movie flies, seeming shorter than many 2-hour films. I highly recommend Fellowship. It is the best movie I've seen in years. Certainly it is by far the greatest fantasy film ever made. The critical comments that follow should not lead us to deny Jackson's monumental achievement. This is a very fine film.

Alas, however, for the Tolkien admirer such as I who recognizes that Jackson possessed the talent but failed to deliver some of the crucial qualities that made Tolkien’s work so great. Jackson's rendition comes just short of scaling the heights of artistry in film that Tolkien's original scaled in literature. The problem is not so much the liberties that Jackson took with Tolkien’s book, nor is it usually a lack of quality in the scenes that make up the film, but it is rather in the choices that Jackson made about themes. To my mind, woven into the fabric of Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings are three great themes, the expression of which is crucial for the work's aesthetic effect: (1) however significant or insignificant we take ourselves to be, the choices we make, big or small, have great intrinsic importance as well as great consequences, regardless of what we might believe; thus, freedom always goes with responsibility; (2) the right path may be painful and arduous; it may humble us, break our backs, cost us all that we treasure; yet it is worth the cost; and (3) there are powers beyond our reckoning ceaselessly working to turn even our poor choices to good ends; in short, there is hope, even when we feel none. In Fellowship, Jackson gives us a good taste of the second theme, but he fails to deliver satisfactorily on the first (we may hope for more concerning the third in the later films).

The theme of freedom and responsibility is crucial. To be sure, Jackson does a wonderful job showing us some of the larger scale choices: Bilbo's relinquishing of the ring, Gandalf's and Galadriel's temptation, and Frodo's choice at the council of Elrond, are all well-conceived and played. But in Tolkien’s work, small choices and deeds are shown to be as important as the larger ones. In his masterful hands, the members of the fellowship continually wrestle with which course to set. The consequences of bad decisions is ever before their minds. A wrong turning or a breath overheard may spell their doom as well as the destruction of the culture and society of all they love. Over and over again, Aragorn racks his brain deciding how to outwit the evil Nazgul in order to get Frodo and company to Rivendell. Despite his considerable knowledge of the terrain, it is the weight of making the right choice that weighs on Aragorn’s mind and is expressed in his speech. But we do not hear such speech from the mouth of Aragorn in the film.

Jackson also comes up short in his treatment of the company’s journey to Lothlorien. In the book, Gandalf wants to journey through Moria, partly because he believes that he is called to hazard those perilous halls, despite his dread of the Balrog; he allows the company to try Caradhras first only because of the insistence of Aragorn (who prophesizes that Gandalf will be in great danger if he enters Moria), and because of the others’ fear from the terrifying stories they have heard (Gimli notwithstanding). This makes Gandalf’s decisions about the journey nobler, for Gandalf stresses that no members of the company shall do anything against their own wills. All of this is lost in Jackson’s version, which has the company driven merely by external forces into Moria. In the film, it is Gandalf, not Aragorn, who wishes to try Mount Caradhras, rather than Moria, presumably because Gandalf fears the powerful Balrog which he believes has been awakened deep within Moria.

There are several examples in which Jackson's version eschews personal choices, replacing them with external causes that drive the company from setting to setting. For instance, Merry and Pippin are practically forced to join Frodo and Sam on their adventure to Bree, whereas Tolkien has them making the decision to go of their own accord. Likewise at Lothlorien: Jackson’s film features almost nothing about the difficult decisions the company must make about whether to go straight into Mordor or to try first for aid in Minas Tirith. And once again at the breaking of the fellowship: whereas Tolkien leaves Aragorn without knowledge of Frodo’s whereabouts and plan (Aragorn must use induction based on very little evidence), Jackson tidies it all up for Aragorn such that he hardly has a decision at all to make about what course to take.

Ah, but you say: inner choices don't transfer well to screen! Now, if Tolkien had treated these choice-making moments as little more than inner struggles, revealed by the author but secret from others, then Jackson could be excused for leaving them almost completely to viewers’ imaginations. But, Tolkien characteristically treats these moments in dialog, which could have been easily presented on screen. Why weren't they?

There is one other salient ingredient missing in the film. Tolkien’s book is primarily about persons, both ordinary and extraordinary; he fills his pages not only with heroic deeds, but also with the people of the various races engaged in the ordinary pursuits characteristic of their particular cultures. So, there is hobbit life in Hobbiton, which the film exhibits admirably. But there is also the peculiar high culture of the tall, beautiful, and noble elves, who love gems, visual and tactile arts, songwriting, and singing under the light of the stars. To be sure, Jackson provides a dazzling vision of the architecture of Rivendell and Lothlorien, but hardly at all do we find elves being elves. What we do find in the film are elves working magic, but usually out of their natural context. It is quite telling that Tolkien has one of the hobbits ask, upon receiving a gift from the elves, "Are these magic cloaks?", to which he is replied, "I do not know what you mean by that. . . They are fair garments, and the web is good, for it was made in this land. They are elvish robes certainly, if that is what you mean. Leaf and branch, water and stone: they have the hue and beauty of all these things under the twilight of Lorien that we love; for we put the thought of all that we love into all that we make. . . And you will find them a great aid in keeping out of the sight of unfriendly eyes, whether you walk among the stones or the trees." Tolkien’s point is that what may seem magical to hobbits and humans is to elves perfectly natural. There is not little more than a hint of this notion in Jackson’s film. Similarly with the magic of the wizards Gandalf and Saruman: whereas Tolkien leaves their battle mostly to our imaginations (and even then, we are led to think that the battle is largely mental and spiritual), Jackson’s film shows us an extensive, very physical battle, close-up, Matrix style. What makes Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings great is not so much the otherworldly clash of sorcerers duking it out as it is the naturalness of all that is good in Middle Earth striving to overcome enormous odds and palpable evil. Stressing this aspect more would have made the film greater.

While hitting most of the major targets (Bilbo’s birthday party, Bilbo’s relinquishing the ring, the Prancing Pony, Weathertop, Rivendell, Moria, and Lothlorien), Jackson presents some of the action out of context, right in the middle of things. For instance, as far as we are given to know, the company have no motivation for going to Weathertop at night. It is one of the worst places they could have gone without good reason (they have good reason in the book). Lothlorien is presented especially out of context. Although Galadriel herself is presented splendidly there, what of her gifts to the company (a scene that makes for one of the greatest episodes in Tolkien’s work)? In Jackson’s film, although we see the company later clad in elven cloaks with elven brooches, Galadriel is shown giving a gift only to Frodo, and this is treated as an unimportant afterthought. The company hardly have time to unpack their gear in Lorien before they are sailing away down the River Anduin.

You may accuse me of forgetting that the film is nearly three hours long as it is. Jackson had no choice but to cut such episodes to the bone, you may say. I disagree. Jackson chose to show us many, many scenes of Saruman’s Isengard that are merely hinted at in Tolkien’s book. These spectacular, fantastical scenes provide explanations concerning the logistics of Saruman's rise to power, but Tolkien leaves all this to our imaginations, the details being relatively unimportant to the company. Jackson, however, chooses to explain it all to us. The result is that we get something completely new (and quite well-done), but the cost in film time cuts somewhat into the deep heart of Tolkien's story. It was a poor choice, all things considered.

So much for the major disappointments. There are minor ones. Jackson should, of course, be free to alter dialog to suit his vision, but I was surprised not to find in the film some of Tolkien’s most dramatic and compelling dialog. Missing is that powerful scene in which Strider must convince Frodo to trust him. Missing is the wonderful assurance from Gandalf's letter: All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost. Missing are some very fine comical yet poignant moments. I will mention only two: Responding to Galadriel's searching gaze, Sam says later, "I felt as if I hadn't got nothing on. . . . She seemed to be looking inside me and asking me what I would do if she gave me the chance of flying back home to the Shire to a nice little hole with--with a bit of garden of my own". Missing also is Gimli's surprising request when Galadriel asks him what he desires of her: "There is nothing, Lady Galadriel", said Gimli, bowing low and stammering . . ."Nothing, unless it might be--unless it is permitted to ask, nay, to name a single strand of your hair, which surpasses the gold of the earth as the stars surpass the gems of the mine. I do not ask for such a gift. But you commanded me to name my desire." For a film such as this, what scriptwriter could hope for a greater speech?

I do not mean to suggest that all Jackson’s choices that veered from Tolkien’s work were poor, for Jackson makes some very good ones. His opening history sequence is superb. Another fine choice he made was to have Arwen, rather than Haldir, find the company on their path to Rivendell. As she loves Aragorn (a fact Tolkien himself reveals to us) and is in Rivendell anyway, she has the perfect motivation to find the company and then to race Frodo successfully across the Ford of Bruinen into Rivendell. I even liked Jackson’s choice to have her responsible for washing away the horses of the Nazgul. And it has the virtue of providing more screen time for the lovely Liv Tyler, who does a fine job as Arwen and who is magnificently characterized by Jackson.

After a second viewing, I came away thinking that Jackson was aware of the themes I think are so crucial, and he tried to weave them into his movie. He proves that he is wizard enough to deliver the goods; but I think his choice to devote so much time to Isengard prevented him from quite matching in film Tolkien’s achievement in literature. Still, Jackson’s achievement so far is magnificent, and who can tell whether future installments will remedy the omissions I mention? I shall reserve final judgment until we can see all three episodes as one whole film. I don't know about you, but I can hardly wait.

Todd R. Long