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The Fellowship face one final battle in the conclusion of Jackson's stunning trilogy |
Frodo (Elijah Wood) and Sam (Sean Astin) are even closer now
to Mount Doom, guided by the treacherous former ring-bearer Gollum (Andy
Serkis). While they must negotiate the dangers of Mordor, Sauron has sent his
forces out to conquer Middle Earth. The city of Minas Tirith is his target. Facing
an army of thousands of orcs, the city’s only hope is if Gandalf (Ian McKellen)
can defend it long enough to allow Aragorn (Viggo Mortensen) – the man destined
to become king of Gondor – to lead a relief force. Will Frodo resist temptation
and destroy the ring? And will Aragorn be able to defend the city and become
its king?
I think it’s fair to say, with books as widely loved as this,
no one is going to agree with every single decision Jackson and fellow writers
Fran Walsh and Phillipa Boyens made. Here again, changes have been made – famously
the scouring of the Shire that closes the novel has been cut (with Saruman
dispatched in the opening scenes of the extended edition). What the screenplay
seeks to do is increase the pace and tension – it’s probably why Denethor,
leader of Gondor, is reinvented as an antagonist (of which more later) and
events charge ahead with a relentless forward motion. There is no stopping to
catch breath here: there is always a new crisis to solve.
Where changes have been made, they largely have a positive
impact. For example, the film takes the decision to introduce conflict between
Frodo and Sam – as well as increasing further the scheming malice of Gollum –
by having the disturbed ring-addict manipulate the two hobbits into a falling
out. This allows Frodo to enter the lair of the giant spider Shelob (a
disgustingly visceral creation) alone. Not only does this make Frodo more
vulnerable, it also increases the bravery and nobility of Sam, by having him
return to save the day (and allow for a classic Hollywood nick-of-time
entrance).
The change also adds to the devious brilliance of Gollum,
once again superbly played by Andy Serkis. After spending much of The Two
Towers bringing out the depth and sadness in this fragile character, The
Return of the King carefully shows how this doesn’t excuse his fundamental
ruthlessness. The film opens with a flashback showing Smeagol finding the ring,
serving as a neat reminder of the Ring’s fundamental wickedness: within seconds
its pushes Smeagol to murder his best friend. The sequence following Smeagol’s
moral and physical collapse neatly reminds us of its danger and also how close
Frodo is to all this happening to him.
Frodo’s suffering and painful growing maturity is more central here. Wood brilliantly charts Frodo’s continuing moral and emotional decline under the Ring’s influence. Increasingly a physical wreck, Jackson carefully lets the suspicion grow that Frodo’s not going to be capable of chucking the ring away. Balancing this, Astin’s Sam Gamgee (the most heartfelt and affecting performance) becomes the moral centre, self-sacrificing, optimistic and fundamentally decent – a beacon of light in the grimness of Mordor.
Again, Jackson ups the stakes, with TROK taking place
on the grandest scale you could imagine. The battle sequences are breath-taking
in their depth and ambition. But, as with the other films, Jackson knows the
scale counts for nothing if you didn’t care about the characters at its heart. So,
while the events are epically earth-shattering, the film always brins us back
to simple emotion. Even in the siege of Gondor, it finds time for a quiet moment
of humanity between Gandalf and Pippin.
But those battle scenes are still stunning. The orc armies
are terrifyingly vast, while the strafing run of the airborne Nazgul (soldiers
snatched from towers are thrown hundreds of feet to their deaths) adds to the
sense that victory is hopeless. Soldiers fight desperately for their, and others,
lives. The film even tops the Two Towers’ charge of the Rohirrim with a
stunningly rousing charge involving thousands of horses into the massed ranks
of Orc (and tops that minutes later with a second change
accompanied by a sweeping camera movement and swelling musical cue that is just
about perfect).
Jackson brilliantly communicates how much the stakes are against our heroes. We really feel their bravery and desperation as they take on impossible odds – and it’s that which really gives the scenes their power, not the scale or the special effects. No moment is lost without bringing us back to moments of bravery and vulnerability from our leads. There are powerful moments of warmth, kindness, loyalty and generosity throughout. It’s finally what makes the film so effective – it’s a tribute to the power of friendship.
It’s all powered with a beautifully operatic score by Howard
Shore. Shore’s music captures perfectly the world of Tolkien. A few years after
this, an ill-fated musical version of LOTR was launched – and flopped.
Because, essentially, Shore has already turned these novels into a sort of opera-slash-concerto,
with perfect themes for everything from martial orcs to whimsical hobbits.
Some of the musical cues are so luscious and stirring, they make you want to
stand and applaud. The music accompanying Gandalf’s rescue of the retreat from
Osgiliath is a wonderful highlight, the triumphant and tense music for the Rohirrim
charge is stunning, the score for our heroes leaving for the Undying Lands
beautiful. LOTR is so beautifully scored, Shore’s work so gorgeous, LOTR
is a film you could certainly watch with just the music playing and still
understand it perfectly.
Of course, there are things you can criticise. Denethor – in the novel a portrait of corrupted nobility, his intelligence and pride turned to despair – is repositioned here as a sort of heartless WW1 General, gobbling food while his soldiers die and embracing a nihilistic death wish (although this change does allow for the absolutely beautiful Gandalf/Pippin beacon lighting sequence, in defiance of Denethor). It’s not helped by Noble’s lip-smacking performance, stripping the character of nuance. It’s gives Gandalf more to struggle against, but it’s a crude approach for a character who would have worked better as a mis-guided elitist rather than a crass, hissable villain.
Lots of people have had a pop at the multiple endings as well. Jackson certainly teases us a little too much with fades to black. But I’d argue the lack of a definitive full stop adds greater depth to the story. Tolkien was partly inspired by his experiences in WW1. In that war, the hell of the trenches came to an end, but people’s lives didn’t end with a triumphant parade. Instead, they needed to return home and adjust back into civilian life. I think it’s powerfully affecting that the hobbits return to an unscoured Shire, which hasn’t changed at all while they (and us) have seen Middle Earth torn apart. And it adds real force to why Frodo, in particular, can’t return to “life as normal”.
It gives a powerfully moving, bitter-sweet ending and, I think, brings out a rich, emotional message from Tolkien’s story often missed: Frodo and his friends are fighting to protect their home, but find that they have changed so much they can never settle back into that home in the same way again. It’s something soldiers serving in WW1 experienced, and it feels fitting echoed in Jackson’s LOTR.
Jackson’s LOTR will always spark conversations around
faithfulness and otherwise to the source material. Not everyone will agree with
every choice. But surely no one can argue with the majesty, scale and wonder of
these films, the sublimely perfect casting choices, or the loving detail in
every touch of the design. When I first saw Return of the King in the
cinema, the audience got to their feet and applauded. You can’t blame them:
watch this and you are watching something very special, a true landmark in
cinema.
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