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Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King

by David Foucher
HERE Arts & Entertainment Editor

The star of the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy is, of course, not a band of gold, nor a hobbit – but rather its hobbit-sized director. Passionate about J.R.R. Tolkien’s genre-defining novels to the degree that he (and many of his army of cast and crew) have dedicated half a decade of their lives to the films, Peter Jackson deserves a tremendous amount of respect from a film establishment – even a society – that has relegated the entire universe of fantasy fiction to the very worst of its preconceptions. Disregarded as the thematically shallow purview of the lonely pre-pubescent who long for medieval-style acceptance based on human characteristics no longer highly valued – valor, courage and honor replaced by beauty, wealth and popularity – the fantasy species long ago achieved B-class status in the Hollywood apparatus, and never recovered.

Until, that is, Jackson and New Line took the largest gamble in moviemaking history by committing hundred of millions of dollars to an audacious production schedule that would spin forth the longest running three-part film ever created. They could not have guess that hobbit-fever would grip the planet three years in a row, or that one man’s creative vision could redefine and re-energize an industry.

Sounds a little like J.R.R. Tolkien’s life story, doesn’t it?

In fact, there are parallels not only to be drawn between the author of the books and the auteur of the film trilogy, but also between the central theme of both – that courage and determination can help even the smallest of us to reshape the world – and the creative process itself. It’s a peculiar magic wielded by the storytellers of each age, the mythology of human experience more powerful than politics, stock markets and death. It’s a little bit of immortality we see on the screen once we hand over our $10 and grab some popcorn – and this film, like its predecessors, will go down as one of the most rewarding three hours you can spend watching such dreams unfold.

You don’t need a plot synopsis – you already know that little Frodo has to throw that heavy band of gold into the volcano and then run for it. And you don’t need to know if the performances are superior, since they are continuous from the first two films. It’s a joy watching Ian McKellan, Elijah Wood, Sean Astin (whose character truly comes into his own in this final film), Orlando Bloom, Viggo Mortensen and the rest play out the cataclysmic plot.

What you really want to know is this: have we placed our faith in a man who has the ability to see through, and hopefully surpass, the first two films into the climactic third chapter? The answer, delightfully, is a resounding yes. “The Return of the King” is every bit the fabulous conclusion we’ve waited for, spun out in glorious fashion over an exhausting three hours.

And the question naturally follows: Will Peter Jackson be finally recognized for this achievement? Is there an Academy Award in store for the man?

Humm. I regret to say probably not. Judged on its own merits, this trilogy has at least marginally failed in one important regard: its strict adherence to Tolkien’s novels to the disregard of the medium of film. The finest example occurs in “The Return of the King,” when Jackson plods through twenty minutes of concluding material AFTER the big battles have passed. It’s an old film adage: once the action has finished, roll the credits. Purists will appreciate the film’s faithful rendition, even as they scold Jackson for taking out the wizard Saruman’s death scene, which having seen the film I admit is confusing. Mythologically speaking, it’s far more important to see the bad guy meet his fate than to watch the protracted ending – not to mention the first would have been far more interesting to watch.

There are minor flaws as well – this is the first chapter in which some of the metaphorical special effects strings can be seen as they’re pulled. But they are minor, and even the ending has appeal in its emotional impact. It’s not a perfect film, but that is of such little consequence. “The Return of the King” is daring, wonderful, and ultimately one of the most satisfying films of the year.

The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King [Slant Magazine]

It is with great sadness that Peter Jackson’s mega-production of J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings trilogy comes to an end. Tolkien’s weakest text isn’t exactly Jackson’s strongest, but despite its little imperfections, The Return of the King brings together some of the best parts of The Fellowship of the Ring and The Two Towers. Because the film is so loyal to Tolkien’s original text, I can’t imagine purists really complaining. More goose-pimply epic swirl and top-notch Uruk-hai smackdowns, but there’s also more of the dreamy Christian allegory that highlighted the first film. Just as Fellowship of the Ring envisioned a mythic fairyland at peace, the grease-and-elbow of Two Towers put us knee-deep in its imminent destruction. Not surprisingly, Return of the King is a ravishing work of mythic restoration.

Frodo (Elijah Wood) is a complete and utter mess, making his way slowly to Mount Doom with Hobbit best-pal Sam (Sean Astin) and bi-polar freakazoid Gollum (Andy Serkis) in tow. The film begins with a sinister backstory that sets up the allure of the forbidden fruit that now hangs from Frodo’s neck: Serkis, as Smeagol, kills for his “precious” and slowly wigs out over time. Many years later, he’s every bit as calculating, cooking up a deadly encounter with you-know-“her” but not before plotting an elaborate mix-up between Frodo and Sam using breadcrumbs (“Give us this daily bread,” so to speak). Gollum’s last-ditch attempt to reclaim his old drug is the Christ-like Frodo’s only chance to destroy his oft-mentioned “burden.” But this is just one of many jittery interplays in the film.

While Aragorn (Viggo Mortensen), Legolas (Orlando Bloom), and Gimli (John Rhys-Davies) wake the dead, Gandalf (Ian McKellen) prepares to fight the Witch King over at jaw-dropping Minis Tirith, where the white wizard must navigate Denethor and Faramir’s fiery father-son disconnect. Behold the lighting of pyres on mountainsides, an awe-inspiring evocation of primal communication. This is how tightly the inhabitants of Middle Earth are connected. In Return of the King, the magic is in the details, and Jackson works overtime to get everyone in on the action: Pippin sings a song (ostensibly for Denethor’s pleasure, it’s also a dreamy musical backdrop for one of many battles in the film), and it’s a nosy Merry’s vision of a lonely tree in a garden that brings the fellowship to Minis Tirith.

Much of the film’s problems are, of course, relative (Uruk-hai leaders shouldn’t be allowed to talk!). Fans of Christopher Lee’s hot air will probably miss Saruman the most. (Jackson wisely understood the character’s potential to distract, so it’s assumed that the dark wizard fell along with his kingdom at the end of Two Towers.) Jackson puts the cock-tease into the film’s sweltering, geometric cross-cutting, but the film’s 200 minutes still feel overstuffed. The dead army doesn’t bring the film to a screeching halt in the same way Treebeard did Two Towers, but there’s now a hurried, going-through-the-motions quality to these and many other scenes. Treebeard and Galadriel’s cameos are small, but the characters could have been easily excised without being missed. (Cate Blanchett’s catwalk strut from the first film was endearing, but her breathy delivery is cloying when her dress isn’t flowing sensually behind her.)

Because Jackson spends considerable time fulfilling quotas, crucial melodramas are undervalued. Jackson is ill-prepared to handle the Aragorn-Arwen-Eowyn love triangle. Jackson knows this, which might explain why he avoids the shot of Eowyn’s face when Aragorn returns and snags the eternally lovelorn Arwen (Liv Tyler, more asthmatic than Blanchett). The nondescript Eowyn’s curious empowerment ritual is seemingly informed by a broken heart first, political-correctness second. Jackson does a poor job evoking the woman’s genuinely breathtaking success in battle as a personal mission. Womanhood seems almost beside the point, when it really should be the true impetus. The Eowyn-Merry tagteam outside Minis Tirith is essentially Jackson’s promise to Tolkein’s female and outré fans. Of course, it all successfully points to the inclusiveness of the author’s world. The Lord of the Rings trilogy has appealed to girls, boys, straights, and queers alike, and there’s plenty of worship in Jackson’s film for everyone who’s good--regardless of sex, size or how long Sam stares into Frodo’s eyes.

Jackson’s majestic longshots and extreme close-ups will make you swoon. Wind and fire are their own characters, and there’s a primordial wistfulness to many of the film’s power shots (namely the sight of a defeated Frodo and Sam at Mount Doom while fireballs whisk by their heads). Because of their elegiac stillness, it’s as if we’re watching daguerreotypes from an audacious, ridiculously dramatic neverland. The film’s best (often simplest) fantastical flights of fancy (an impromptu beam of light from Gandalf’s staff, the flight of savior eagles) are those that smooth out the roughest battle scars and evoke losses being rewarded from cosmic beyonds. We permit the CGI madness because there’s an unmistakable transcendental quality to the film’s images, and Jackson respects and authenticates Tolkein’s core principles of sacrifice and spiritual ascendance.

...Jackson plods through twenty minutes of concluding material AFTER the big battles have passed. It's an old film adage: once the action has finished, roll the credits. Purists will appreciate the film's faithful rendition...Mythologically speaking, it's far more important to see the bad guy meet his fate than to watch the protracted ending, not to mention the first would have been far more interesting to watch.

As a non-purist wrt the films, I was disappointed to hear that the "Scouring of the Shire" was not to be included in the film. The greatness of the LoTR lies not just in the majesty Middle Earth, and the affirmation of eternal verities, but very much in showing the evolution of the world (the ending of the Third Age) and the costs imposed. This is most satisfyingly done in the return to the shire by the transformed hobbits. Perhaps it is asking too much of a movie audience to attend to--but I'm begging you, if you like the films, and haven't read the books, please do so.