The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

Peter Jackson must have known that he was embarking on a perilous journey when he set out to write and direct a cinematic adaptation of J.R.R. Tolkien's three-volume fantasy epic "The Lord of the Rings." The peril lies not in the books. The tale is simple and striking in outline — a young hobbit (pointy ears, half a man's height, likes to eat) named Frodo must destroy a seductively powerful, horrifically evil ring so that the Dark Lord Sauron cannot reclaim it for his own and conquer the dying world of Middle Earth with his minions from Mordor. In addition, Tolkien's novels boast an almost unparalleled richness in natural detail, vivid characterization and gorgeous invented languages, all of which would seem to make "The Lord of the Rings" a natural for a theater near you.

However, the novels have also inspired devotion of a fervor that would make partisans of bespectacled British student wizards blush, and Tolkien fanatics will cry for blood if Tolkien is not paid adequate dues in this first installment, titled "The Fellowship of the Ring" as the book was. Jackson's problem when pleading for his life with the nerd mob will be this: While "The Fellowship of the Ring" bursts with imagination, fervor and skill and stays in your mind for days after you see it, it also fails completely at recreating the tang and spirit of Middle Earth on the silver screen. "The Fellowship of the Ring" is a fine film. It's just not the film its prospective fans most likely want to see.

The actors themselves tend to come closer to Tolkien's world than Jackson does. Though the previews sparked anxiety on this score, Elijah Wood makes quite a convincing Frodo with a few canny makeup tweaks. More importantly, he captures perfectly the fear and bravery that Frodo constantly balances against each other while on his crucial quest. Ian McKellan revels in the role of Gandalf the wizard, jolly and grave and awesome and resigned, sometimes all at once; plot edits make Saruman a more prominent foe than in the novel, and Christopher Lee makes you believe the white wizard turned servant of Sauron could call down hell on Middle Earth if it became necessary. And Viggo Mortensen skulks and rushes with a noble determination as Aragon.

Still, this film depends more on Jackson's vision of Tolkien's world than anything else, and Jackson has a formidable imagination, one whose vividness is rivaled only by its ferocity. The Black Riders stalk their prey clad in fearful armor and radiate a deadly intensity only made all the more awful by their absent eyes. Orcs bristle with malevolence, trolls hiss with frenzied wrath, and the Balroc of the Mines of Moria will have all but the most jaded moviegoers gasping. Magical realms are not airily mystical but potently harrowing, and the battle scenes are as visceral as anything onscreen since "Saving Private Ryan." Jackson has spoken of his desire to avoid fairy-tale tameness and give evil its proper on-screen dominion, and "The Fellowship of the Ring" fulfills his goal.

And it is true that the spectre of evil, an evil already all too common and threatening to become omnipresent, hangs over every page of the book. But this determination to mine the imagery from the depths of Mordor misses another crucial dimension of Tolkien's epic: it is as much a creation and evocation of a dying world as it is a tale of the struggle against that world's destruction.

Rational people will not be bothered too much by the plot shuffling and excision; it would have been nice to see Tom Bombadil on screen, but no human being could sit still long enough to watch a movie that depicted all the action in "The Fellowship of the Rings," making certain sacrifices necessary.

Much more seriously, Jackson doesn't do much besides show evil. His conception of the Elves' domains is vague and banal, all haloish light and fair maidens gliding around, a far cry from his eager exploration of the iniquity of Mordor. The Council of Elrond, a respectful, grave colloquy in the book, here degenerates almost immediately into a heated shouting match. We never get a good sense of the characteristics of races other than hobbits, and we are asked to accept the enmity between Dwarves and Elves almost on faith. And the one song in the movie - Bilbo's simple and poignant road song as he sets out on his own journey — is almost immediately submerged in the agitated strings of Howard Shore's (overblown) score. Would it have been too much to hear one of the many songs, even just in part?

Yet none of this makes "The Fellowship of the Ring" a bad movie; its strengths as a film are not diminished by its weaknesses as an adaptation. Someone with no knowledge of ancient times as Tolkien told them would undoubtedly take Jackson's darker, nastier world as it comes and revel in it. Tolkien fans should try as much as they can to shut out memories of the book and enjoy what Jackson gives them. We don't need any horrific nerd uprisings, especially not over what is basically a good movie.

"The Two Towers" has essentially the same virtues and flaws as this movie does, and I think I do a better job of explaining my opinion in that review. Stupid deadline pressure. But this is another take on that take, so to speak, and I think interesting nevertheless.

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