Waking up with Frodo, the morning after

The Fellowship of the Ring rocked. It rocked really hard. After seemingly decades of anticipation, the first part of J.R.R. Tolkien's "Lord of the Rings" trilogy hit the screen with a veritable explosion of ethereal wonder.

We came. We saw. We were conquered. We were terrified by the dirt-caked orcs and smitten by the soul-searing beauty of Middle Earth (formerly: New Zealand). We lapped up the battle scenes, worried about the Hobbits and cheered for the sinister Ring Wraiths. Well, a few of us cheered for the Ring Wraiths. They were frickin' awesome.

The film was a steamroller, and most of us, critics included, filed out of the theater both dazed and excited. It was a little like love.

For this writer, everything was just peachy until a few days later, when a Flak reader wrote a letter in response to Sean Weitner's rapturous evaluation of the movie. Despite having personally loving the film, it was hard not to give the letter some thought.

Then, like a hangover the morning after a particularly good New Year's party, the truth hit with throbbing force: This film had problems.

Gandalf takes a fall

In the book, the wizard Gandalf is pulled off the underground bridge of Khazad-Dum by a rampaging Balrog, an ancient creature of fire and shadow. Here's the original text:

But even as [the Balrog] fell, it swung its whip, and the thongs lashed and curled about the wizard's knees, dragging him to the brink. He staggered and fell, grasped vainly at the stone, and slid into the abyss. "Fly you fools!" he cried, and was gone.

In short: The Balrog dragged Gandalf to his doom. But Fellowship of the Ring obscures this scene with surprisingly hamfisted blocking — Gandalf hangs on to the cliff for a good 10 seconds after the Balrog's fall, says his terrific "Fly you fools!" line, and then appears to just let go of the rock.

At the time, I was actively annoyed at my girlfriend for not understanding that the Balrog's whip had pulled Gandalf into the chasm. "But he just let go!" she said, her eyes tearing up slightly. "Why did he let go?" We were both emotionally moved by Gandalf's apparent demise, but she was confused — she hadn't read the book, so she missed the essence of the scene. If you consider that the Balrog sequence is one of the critical climaxes of Fellowship in both its incarnations, you begin to understand how badly Jackson dropped the ball.

Nice fangs, Bilbo

Remember acting? That thing that stars used to do in films like Lawrence of Arabia or Inherit the Wind? It's not entirely extinct in Fellowship of the Ring, but its power is unforgivably squandered at two key moments of the film.

The One Ring is arguably the real star of the film. In a sense, all action revolves around the damn thing, and its ability to poison minds and inspire crazed possessiveness is one of the main hooks of the entire ring trilogy.

So moments where otherwise sympathetic characters freak out over the artifact should be great opportunities for the actors in question to display a bit of range. After all, when the otherwise lovable hobbit retiree Bilbo Baggins goes into a fit of Ring-frenzy, it's a perfect chance for veteran actor Ian Holm (The Sweet Hereafter) to show his stuff. No such luck. Fellowship uses computer animation to paste a set of fake fangs and a crazy demon-looking expression onto Holm's face.

The effect is truly startling and disturbing. It's downright scary. But, dammit, couldn't it have been acted instead of animated? It's an expensive gimmick, and it feels that way – appropriate to the likes of Halloween 8, perhaps, but not a real film.

On a similar note, the voice-distortion and pyrotechnics associated with elvish Lady Galadriel's ring-lust are just music-video absurd. Granted that the fair lady is temporarily out of her gourd and extremely magical, but the scene replaces real emotional tension with a ball of CGI-based histrionics.

Only Gandalf's CGI-boosted ring tantrum seems to work – his voice booms and the room darkens. It's much more subtle than the other two incidents, and it works well.

If Jackson had taken the time to finesse world-class performances from Cate Blanchett and Ian Holm, the film would have been immeasurably improved.

But he copped out.

Domestic disturbance in Isengard, 114 Orthanc Way

In his letter to the editor, Joshua G. writes "there is a hilarious Skirmish between Gandalf and Saruman that had the audience in an uproar."

Now, at the time this writer saw Fellowship, the audience in the packed theater was reverent and silent, observing the titanic struggle of two master sorcerers.

But if you've seen the film, try looking back on the fight in your mind's eye. Was it really all that cool? Two grown men are clearly rolling around on the floor, throwing themselves at walls and yelling weird things while pretending to be hit by invisible blocks of cheese, or whatever is supposed to be going on. Staves fly through the air. It's objectively funny. Go ahead, view it again and see if you can avoid laughing. I'm cracking up as I write this.

Toss the dwarf!

Alas, poor Gimli. One of the most complicated and engaging of Tolkien's literary creations, reduced to dumb, ax-swinging comic relief. While Gimli the dwarf's taciturn honor and steadfast nature are a strong undercurrent in "Fellowship" the book, his gruff buffoonery in the film eliminates him as a serious character. His Jackson-ordered antics include, Tolkien help us, a groan-inspiring reference to "dwarf tossing" that was most certainly not in the book.

Hollywood films have a need for comic relief. And make no mistake, Fellowship was firmly smitten by Hollywood's heavy touch. But not satisfied by Merry and Pippin's genuinely entertaining antics, the fierce Gimli was recruited as the film's third stooge. At one point, he's talking about how great his hearing and sight are, only to be stopped short by an elvish ambush pointing bows and arrows at his face. It's stupid. Not funny. Stupid. Brings Jar-Jar Binks immediately to mind. Thank goodness everybody on the production end of things had the good sense not to write a dwarf fart joke into the film.

Gimli's humiliation should not be forgotten by Tolkien fans. The poor little guy never had a chance.

But, problems aside, The Fellowship of the Ring is an experience not to be missed. Like Star Wars (part IV, the original), it's not perfect, and the flaws are shockingly obvious in retrospect. But in the same vein, the movie's magic is so overwhelming and positive that you don't see the chinks in its armor until you've already been spellbound, dazzled and exhilarated to your heart's delight. And in any day and age, that's not bad.

— James Norton (jim@flakmag.com)