So passes Denethor, son of Ecthelion
The second viewing was better. Perhaps because I managed, this time, to turn off the "snarky comment" function of my brain, or perhaps because I knew I'd have to sit through more Gollum arguments and could thus tune them out, or perhaps just because it was the second time, and I was feeling more fannish.
I still don't like the portrayal Gollum's self-arguments (though using his reflection was a little better than whipping the camera back and forth between expressions); it comes across too, well, blatantly: it's like an announcer's voice overhead declaiming, "We now take a five-minute break from your movie to demonstrate that Gollum has a split personality," rather than actually showing it through action. I felt that way in Two Towers, and it didn't get much better when they tried it in Return of the King. If the viewer hasn't picked up on the fact that Gollum is conflicted by this point, perhaps they should buy the Cliff Notes.
Denethor's death was the other point I didn't like. They gave him none of his dignity, as if going mad means one automatically becomes a clown, whereas Denethor's madness was caused, and revolved around, his position of authority as Steward--he was very, perhaps overly, aware of the power and dignity of his office, and the way he died was part of that. From the book:
'To me it would not seem that a Steward who faithfully surrenders his charge is diminished in love or honour,' sad Gandalf. 'And at the least you shall not rob your son of his choice while death is still in doubt.'
At those words Denethor's eyes flamed again, and taking the Stone under his arm he drew a knife and strode towards the bier. But Beregond sprang forward and set himself before Faramir.
'So!' cried Denethor. 'Thou hadst already stolen half my son's love. Now thou stealest the hearts of my knights also, so that they rob me wholly of my son at the last. But in this at least thou shalt not defy my will: to rule my own end.'
Denethor running like a circus clown off the end of the stone, flapping and flaming, was definitely not a dignified sight, nor was it any sort of demonstration of Denethor's stubborn determination to keep control. Tolkien at least let him die with dignity, mad or not:
'Come hither!' he cried to his servants. 'Come, if you are not all recreant!' Then two of them ran up the steps to him. Swiftly he snatched a torch from the hand of one and sprang back into the house. Before Gandalf could hinder him he thrust the brand amid the fuel, and at once it crackled and roared into flame.
Then Denethor leaped upon the table, and standing there wreathed in fire and smoke he took up the staff of his stewardship that lay at his feet and broke it on his knee. Casting the pieces into the blaze he bowed and laid himself on the table, clasping the palantir with both hands upon his breast. And it was said that ever after, if any man looked in that Stone, unless he had great strength of will to turn it to other purpose, he saw only two aged hands withering in flame.
Gandalf in grief and horror turned his face away and closed the door. For a while he stood in though, sillent upon the threshold, while those outside heard the greedy roaring of the fire within. And then Denethor gave a great cry, and afterwards spoke no more, nor was ever again seen by mortal men.
This points out something else that baffled me in the movie-- why did the movie make such a point about Pippin picking up that palantir and looking into it (which, as he told the Eye nothing, really wasn't all that big a deal), but then completely neglect to mention Denethor's, which was the probable cause of his downfall? The palantir aren't even given a proper introduction, despite the fact that they figure prominently in the text--Saruman uses one to communicate with Sauron, Pippin is accidentally caught by one, and Denethor's will was sapped by the manipulation of Sauron through the one in Gondor. The watcher is never given an explanation for these things, and while admittedly most of the audience has read the books, some have not-- isn't that the point of the movie, to bring in new audiences as well as those familiar with the story? I've read them, but about half the time those I've gone with have not, and a little exposition on the dangers of arcane artifacts could easily have been worked into, say, Gandalf's lecture to Pippin.
There were many things I did like about the movie, don't get me wrong. The army of the dead was amazing, and the image of them surging over the oliphaunt is something I won't forget in a hurry. Their leader was excellently done; I could see both the underlying skull and the disintegrating skin, as if both were translucent--at times the skull seemed more visible, and at times it was less so, and the way everything appeared when it wanted to was creepy and entirely *right*. Cirith Ungol was amazing, as well; it looked like a nuclear reactor with an attitude, that sort of unhealthy glowing green that shouts "Deadly! Get away!" but at the same time lures you closer.
I still love the Ringwraiths, even without their horses; the flying beasts are awesome, especially the Witch King's-- the shot of the orc armies pouring out of Cirith Ungol, with the Nazgûl perched and mantling on the city wall, looking like a statue until it moved a wing, would have made the best poster for the Dark Side ever printed. I'd be willing to shell out a fair amount for a poster of that scene, just for the sheer... evil, the deadly beauty of it. The Witch King's helmet was a little reminiscent of Shredder, bane of those animated mutant turtles, but still freaky and very much something I can imagine a thing called the Witch-King of Angmar would wear. The shrieks... were excellent; they really did "st[i]ng the very ears like venom," and they were just on this side of tolerable, toned down just enough that, while the watcher wasn't quite doubled over in his seat, he certainly knew why the fighters were.
The signal fires were wonderful. They neatly solve the dual problem of 'How does a primitive culture summon distant allies quickly without magic?' and 'How can we add some more footage of sweeping mountain grandeur to suggest the completeness and span of Middle-Earth?' Those poor frozen soldiers waiting at the lookout points, with no shelter in sight and snow on the ground! I felt very sorry for them, since the theater was cold enough to qualify as a remote mountain top.
Éowyn. What can I say about Éowyn? I like her very much, and I wish she'd gotten more screen time--particularly in the Houses of Healing, since it's there she meets Faramir and falls in love. Éowyn killing the Witch King was well-done, though that mace of his struck me as a really improbable weapon (mostly due to its ability to stick in the ground and delay the wielder)--I'm glad my little action figure of him has a sword-- but Éowyn's determination was wonderful, and Théoden got his lines about "I go to my fathers. And even in their mighty company I shall not now be ashamed." Théoden's death was well done, even if they clipped a bit from his final speech, the part about "I felled the black serpent. A grim morn, and a glad day, and a golden sunset!" I love Tolkien's Rohirrim; quite aside from the whole 'semi-nomadic horsemen' thing, they're so... Old English--just look at their poetry:
Mourn not overmuch! Mighty was the fallen,
meet was his ending. When his mound is raised,
women then shall weep. War now calls us!
(Éomer, at Théoden's death)(
Out of doubt, out of dark, to the day's rising
he rode singing in the sun, sword unsheathing,
Hope he rekindled, and in hope ended;
over death, over dread, over doom lifted
out of loss, out of life, unto long glory.
(The Riders of Rohan, on Théoden's death)
The ship at the Havens was wonderful, as was Frodo's parting; I kept waiting for him to tell Sam that Bag End was his, though. Still, I liked the ending very much, and it doesn't bother me that they cut out the scouring of the Shire; since they didn't detail Saruman's downfall, it wouldn't make sense to have him suddenly appear in the Shire, and it was really more of a final hurrah than a major plot point. The Shire is the most sheltered land in Middle-Earth; its wrack by Saruman served nicely to show that the contamination has reached everywhere, and its eradication served as notice that the very last of the taint was gone. Cinematically, the crumbling of the black tower and the rivers of molten lava served that purpose very well, so a last purge of the Shire wasn't really a necessity.
Overall, Return of the King was a marvelous finale, and since I feel like quoting Middle-Earth music, here's the last we hear of Legolas, shortly after the field of Cormallen:
'And I,' said Legolas, 'shall walk in the woods of this fair land, which is rest enough. In days to come, if my Elven-lord allows, some of our folk shall remove hither; and when we come it shall be blessed, for a while. For a while: a month, a life, a hundred years of Men. But Anduin is near, and Anduin leads down to the Sea. To the Sea!
To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying,
The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying.
West, west away, the round sun is falling.
Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling,
The voices of my people that have gone before me?
I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me,
For our days are ending and our years failing.
I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing.
Long are the waves on the Last Shore falling,
Sweet are the voices in the Lost Isle calling,
In Eressëa, in Elvenhome that no man can discover,
Where the leaves fall not: land of my people forever!
And so singing Legolas went away down the hill.
I still don't like the portrayal Gollum's self-arguments (though using his reflection was a little better than whipping the camera back and forth between expressions); it comes across too, well, blatantly: it's like an announcer's voice overhead declaiming, "We now take a five-minute break from your movie to demonstrate that Gollum has a split personality," rather than actually showing it through action. I felt that way in Two Towers, and it didn't get much better when they tried it in Return of the King. If the viewer hasn't picked up on the fact that Gollum is conflicted by this point, perhaps they should buy the Cliff Notes.
Denethor's death was the other point I didn't like. They gave him none of his dignity, as if going mad means one automatically becomes a clown, whereas Denethor's madness was caused, and revolved around, his position of authority as Steward--he was very, perhaps overly, aware of the power and dignity of his office, and the way he died was part of that. From the book:
'To me it would not seem that a Steward who faithfully surrenders his charge is diminished in love or honour,' sad Gandalf. 'And at the least you shall not rob your son of his choice while death is still in doubt.'
At those words Denethor's eyes flamed again, and taking the Stone under his arm he drew a knife and strode towards the bier. But Beregond sprang forward and set himself before Faramir.
'So!' cried Denethor. 'Thou hadst already stolen half my son's love. Now thou stealest the hearts of my knights also, so that they rob me wholly of my son at the last. But in this at least thou shalt not defy my will: to rule my own end.'
Denethor running like a circus clown off the end of the stone, flapping and flaming, was definitely not a dignified sight, nor was it any sort of demonstration of Denethor's stubborn determination to keep control. Tolkien at least let him die with dignity, mad or not:
'Come hither!' he cried to his servants. 'Come, if you are not all recreant!' Then two of them ran up the steps to him. Swiftly he snatched a torch from the hand of one and sprang back into the house. Before Gandalf could hinder him he thrust the brand amid the fuel, and at once it crackled and roared into flame.
Then Denethor leaped upon the table, and standing there wreathed in fire and smoke he took up the staff of his stewardship that lay at his feet and broke it on his knee. Casting the pieces into the blaze he bowed and laid himself on the table, clasping the palantir with both hands upon his breast. And it was said that ever after, if any man looked in that Stone, unless he had great strength of will to turn it to other purpose, he saw only two aged hands withering in flame.
Gandalf in grief and horror turned his face away and closed the door. For a while he stood in though, sillent upon the threshold, while those outside heard the greedy roaring of the fire within. And then Denethor gave a great cry, and afterwards spoke no more, nor was ever again seen by mortal men.
This points out something else that baffled me in the movie-- why did the movie make such a point about Pippin picking up that palantir and looking into it (which, as he told the Eye nothing, really wasn't all that big a deal), but then completely neglect to mention Denethor's, which was the probable cause of his downfall? The palantir aren't even given a proper introduction, despite the fact that they figure prominently in the text--Saruman uses one to communicate with Sauron, Pippin is accidentally caught by one, and Denethor's will was sapped by the manipulation of Sauron through the one in Gondor. The watcher is never given an explanation for these things, and while admittedly most of the audience has read the books, some have not-- isn't that the point of the movie, to bring in new audiences as well as those familiar with the story? I've read them, but about half the time those I've gone with have not, and a little exposition on the dangers of arcane artifacts could easily have been worked into, say, Gandalf's lecture to Pippin.
There were many things I did like about the movie, don't get me wrong. The army of the dead was amazing, and the image of them surging over the oliphaunt is something I won't forget in a hurry. Their leader was excellently done; I could see both the underlying skull and the disintegrating skin, as if both were translucent--at times the skull seemed more visible, and at times it was less so, and the way everything appeared when it wanted to was creepy and entirely *right*. Cirith Ungol was amazing, as well; it looked like a nuclear reactor with an attitude, that sort of unhealthy glowing green that shouts "Deadly! Get away!" but at the same time lures you closer.
I still love the Ringwraiths, even without their horses; the flying beasts are awesome, especially the Witch King's-- the shot of the orc armies pouring out of Cirith Ungol, with the Nazgûl perched and mantling on the city wall, looking like a statue until it moved a wing, would have made the best poster for the Dark Side ever printed. I'd be willing to shell out a fair amount for a poster of that scene, just for the sheer... evil, the deadly beauty of it. The Witch King's helmet was a little reminiscent of Shredder, bane of those animated mutant turtles, but still freaky and very much something I can imagine a thing called the Witch-King of Angmar would wear. The shrieks... were excellent; they really did "st[i]ng the very ears like venom," and they were just on this side of tolerable, toned down just enough that, while the watcher wasn't quite doubled over in his seat, he certainly knew why the fighters were.
The signal fires were wonderful. They neatly solve the dual problem of 'How does a primitive culture summon distant allies quickly without magic?' and 'How can we add some more footage of sweeping mountain grandeur to suggest the completeness and span of Middle-Earth?' Those poor frozen soldiers waiting at the lookout points, with no shelter in sight and snow on the ground! I felt very sorry for them, since the theater was cold enough to qualify as a remote mountain top.
Éowyn. What can I say about Éowyn? I like her very much, and I wish she'd gotten more screen time--particularly in the Houses of Healing, since it's there she meets Faramir and falls in love. Éowyn killing the Witch King was well-done, though that mace of his struck me as a really improbable weapon (mostly due to its ability to stick in the ground and delay the wielder)--I'm glad my little action figure of him has a sword-- but Éowyn's determination was wonderful, and Théoden got his lines about "I go to my fathers. And even in their mighty company I shall not now be ashamed." Théoden's death was well done, even if they clipped a bit from his final speech, the part about "I felled the black serpent. A grim morn, and a glad day, and a golden sunset!" I love Tolkien's Rohirrim; quite aside from the whole 'semi-nomadic horsemen' thing, they're so... Old English--just look at their poetry:
Mourn not overmuch! Mighty was the fallen,
meet was his ending. When his mound is raised,
women then shall weep. War now calls us!
(Éomer, at Théoden's death)(
Out of doubt, out of dark, to the day's rising
he rode singing in the sun, sword unsheathing,
Hope he rekindled, and in hope ended;
over death, over dread, over doom lifted
out of loss, out of life, unto long glory.
(The Riders of Rohan, on Théoden's death)
The ship at the Havens was wonderful, as was Frodo's parting; I kept waiting for him to tell Sam that Bag End was his, though. Still, I liked the ending very much, and it doesn't bother me that they cut out the scouring of the Shire; since they didn't detail Saruman's downfall, it wouldn't make sense to have him suddenly appear in the Shire, and it was really more of a final hurrah than a major plot point. The Shire is the most sheltered land in Middle-Earth; its wrack by Saruman served nicely to show that the contamination has reached everywhere, and its eradication served as notice that the very last of the taint was gone. Cinematically, the crumbling of the black tower and the rivers of molten lava served that purpose very well, so a last purge of the Shire wasn't really a necessity.
Overall, Return of the King was a marvelous finale, and since I feel like quoting Middle-Earth music, here's the last we hear of Legolas, shortly after the field of Cormallen:
'And I,' said Legolas, 'shall walk in the woods of this fair land, which is rest enough. In days to come, if my Elven-lord allows, some of our folk shall remove hither; and when we come it shall be blessed, for a while. For a while: a month, a life, a hundred years of Men. But Anduin is near, and Anduin leads down to the Sea. To the Sea!
To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying,
The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying.
West, west away, the round sun is falling.
Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling,
The voices of my people that have gone before me?
I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me,
For our days are ending and our years failing.
I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing.
Long are the waves on the Last Shore falling,
Sweet are the voices in the Lost Isle calling,
In Eressëa, in Elvenhome that no man can discover,
Where the leaves fall not: land of my people forever!
And so singing Legolas went away down the hill.