Bless ye, J.R.R. Tolkien. And Peter Jackson as well.
I had an entirely disheartening revelation earlier today.
In the middle of the newest in a long line of Fellowship of the Ring viewings, I realized:
This is it.
In under three weeks, it's all over.
No more anticipation. No more excitement. No more gut-wrenching fan-boy squeamishness at the thought of Helm's Deep. No more hardcore geeking upon viewing the Boromir/Faramir deleted scene from TTT:EE for the first time.
In just a matter of weeks, it all comes to an end.
My love affair with Tolkien's world began during the summer between 5th and 6th grade. For almost half my life, Middle-Earth has been my locale of choice to escape to in my head when things haven't been going too well.
I've bought all the books of notes that Christopher Tolkien shamelessly published to milk his dad's legend for all it's worth. I own the books of maps. The original prints of artwork from the trading card game. The snowglobe of four hobbits, gripped by a giant Nazgul gauntlet. Both versions of the dvds. Fuck, I even have some of the miniatures that Games Workshop made.
I'm counting down the days left before it all comes crashing down.
The release of Return of the King will mark one of the best days of my life, from a media-consumer point of view.;On a personal level, it's going to hurt like hell.
This might be a narrow-minded way to look at things, but I just can't picture anything in the world of fictional media that will possibly excite me as much as these movies have. They're Peter Jackson's creations, but they belong to every 11 year old kid who ever picked up a copy of The Hobbit and dreamt.
I've tossed around the idea of a Preacher or a Sandman movie, but it's just not the same. A brillaintly produced adaptation of On the Road might be up there. A Song of Ice and Fire on the big screen? Maybe.
But it just isn't the same. In terms of scope. In terms of anticipation.
What Tolkien created was magic. What Jackson has done with it is magic.
The things these movies and books do to me: magic.
If I could bottle and sell the feeling that I'm going to experience when those intro credits roll up at 12:01 at Loews on the Common... well. Yeah.
'nuff said.
Goodbye unbearable anticipation.
I'm almost bitter, because in comparison to LOTR, everything else just seems to "have had the volume turned down."
Peace and good karma.
In the middle of the newest in a long line of Fellowship of the Ring viewings, I realized:
This is it.
In under three weeks, it's all over.
No more anticipation. No more excitement. No more gut-wrenching fan-boy squeamishness at the thought of Helm's Deep. No more hardcore geeking upon viewing the Boromir/Faramir deleted scene from TTT:EE for the first time.
In just a matter of weeks, it all comes to an end.
My love affair with Tolkien's world began during the summer between 5th and 6th grade. For almost half my life, Middle-Earth has been my locale of choice to escape to in my head when things haven't been going too well.
I've bought all the books of notes that Christopher Tolkien shamelessly published to milk his dad's legend for all it's worth. I own the books of maps. The original prints of artwork from the trading card game. The snowglobe of four hobbits, gripped by a giant Nazgul gauntlet. Both versions of the dvds. Fuck, I even have some of the miniatures that Games Workshop made.
I'm counting down the days left before it all comes crashing down.
The release of Return of the King will mark one of the best days of my life, from a media-consumer point of view.;On a personal level, it's going to hurt like hell.
This might be a narrow-minded way to look at things, but I just can't picture anything in the world of fictional media that will possibly excite me as much as these movies have. They're Peter Jackson's creations, but they belong to every 11 year old kid who ever picked up a copy of The Hobbit and dreamt.
I've tossed around the idea of a Preacher or a Sandman movie, but it's just not the same. A brillaintly produced adaptation of On the Road might be up there. A Song of Ice and Fire on the big screen? Maybe.
But it just isn't the same. In terms of scope. In terms of anticipation.
What Tolkien created was magic. What Jackson has done with it is magic.
The things these movies and books do to me: magic.
If I could bottle and sell the feeling that I'm going to experience when those intro credits roll up at 12:01 at Loews on the Common... well. Yeah.
'nuff said.
Goodbye unbearable anticipation.
I'm almost bitter, because in comparison to LOTR, everything else just seems to "have had the volume turned down."
Peace and good karma.