When the first two installments of the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy were released at the movie theaters in 2001 and 2002, neither went on to win any major Oscars although both received nominations.
The general consensus among most moviegoers was that the third and final installment, which was released 10 years ago today, would be the big payoff for director Peter Jackson's achievement. Was it ever. "Return of the King" swept all 11 Oscars for which it was nominated including Best Picture, Best Director and Best Adapted Screenplay.
"Return of the King" gave audiences the chance to see Gollum (Andy Serkis) at length. He was merely a shadowy figure in the first movie, as he was in the book, and more visible in the second. People who read the original J.R.R. Tolkien books already knew of Gollum's treachery; I can only imagine what that revelation was like for people who hadn't read the books.
Sam (Sean Astin):I heard it from his own mouth! He means to murder us!
Gollum/Smeagol (Andy Serkis):Never! Smeagol wouldn't hurt a fly!
Sam:What are you up to? Sneaking off, are we?
Gollum:Sneaking? Sneaking? Fat Hobbit is always so polite. Smeagol shows them secret ways that nobody else could find, and they say 'sneak!' Sneak? Very nice friend. Oh, yes, my precious. Very nice, very nice.
Sam:All right, all right! You just startled me is all. What were you doing?
Gollum:Sneaking.
The movie started with a distant flashback to when Smeagol (Gollum's original name) first came to possess the ring, and audiences got their first real glimpse of the actor who played him. In the earlier movies, only Andy Serkis' voice was heard. He performed the movements that served as the basis for the computer–generated imagery (CGI) of the Gollum character.
The opening flashback showed Smeagol killing to possess the ring, then withdrawing into exile. It was a not–so–subtle reminder to viewers who hadn't read the books (as well as those who had) that the ring would corrupt anyone who possessed it. That was why Frodo (Elijah Wood) and the other Hobbits and members of the Fellowship had embarked on the journey to Mount Doom in the first place.
In many ways, "Return of the King" was more majestic than its two predecessors. The battle of Helm's Deep in "The Two Towers" was impressive, but the action sequences in "Return of the King" were as good as, if not better than, such sequences in the first two movies.
As the climactic battle approached in "Return of the King," I felt as if I was catching a glimpse of the fruition of the biblical prophecy of Armageddon.
Many film trilogies seem to run out of gas by the time the third and final installment hits the big screen. But Peter Jackson's "Return of the King" went into a higher gear. I suppose it had to. There were several stories that were wrapping up in it, not just the one about Frodo and Sam and Gollum, although that certainly formed the heart of the movie.
The "Lord of the Rings" trilogy was a triumph, and "Return of the King" was a worthy finale.
"I am, in fact, a Hobbit (in all but size). I like gardens, trees and unmechanized farmlands; I smoke a pipe and like good plain food (unrefrigerated) but detest French cooking; I like, and even dare to wear in these dull days, ornamental waistcoats. I am fond of mushrooms (out of a field); have a very simple sense of humor (which even my appreciative critics find tiresome); I go to bed late and get up late (when possible). I do not travel much."
J.R.R. Tolkien
When J.R.R. Tolkien died 40 years ago tomorrow, I had not yet read "The Hobbit" or the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy.
"The Hobbit" might have been about my speed at that time in my life. The "Lord of the Rings" trilogy, though, definitely would have been beyond my years.
I read those books later when I was in high school. And I learned what all the cool kids had learned long before. I'd seen those kids carrying around their copies of whichever volumes of "Lord of the Rings" they happened to be reading at the time like emblems of some kind of exclusive club, a club to which I did not belong until later.
By then, though, they had moved on to other things.
When I finally joined that club, I was filled with admiration for the things Tolkien wrote. To put things in perspective, I had been doing a lot of writing by that time in my life, and I felt a great appreciation for well–written pieces, be they articles or books. Still do.
But on this day in 1973, I'm not sure I even knew who Tolkien was.
Consequently, I often feel as if I missed out on something special that everyone else got. Not permanently, of course. I finally got it, but I didn't get to experience it along with everyone else in my peer group. I felt out of step, somehow.
That was really kind of the story of my life when I was growing up. My family lived in the country, and there were many times when I felt isolated from my friends in town. When the school day ended, I got on the school bus and it took me home. A few kids my age lived in the general vicinity of my house, but most of my friends lived in town, and it always seemed to me that they experienced things as a group before I experienced them.
Tolkien was like everything else.
I was really isolated from my friends when Tolkien died. My father was a college professor, and he was on a four–month sabbatical in another state (with my mother, my brother and me). But, at that time, I doubt that many (if any) of my friends had read Tolkien yet.
Now that I think of it, I don't recall seeing any of my friends with their copies of volumes of the "Rings" trilogy until years later.
When I finally read "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy, I kept thinking it would make a wonderful movie. As it turned out, it inspired three great movies.
But I also kept thinking that it wouldn't be possible technically to put Tolkien's vision on film. And that was true — at that time.
But 30 years after Tolkien's death, the film trilogy based on his books was being honored in every possible way.
I've often wondered what Tolkien would have thought of that.
Projected moving pictures made their debut when he was small, and the medium was evolving through most of his adult life, which was largely devoted to writing, either doing it or teaching it. My guess is he gave little thought to movies — and probably less to whether anything he wrote would be made into one.
There are times when I think that Tolkien, with his knack for story telling, must have mused about the possibility that his works would be preserved on film — even if filmmaking was primitive at that time.
But then I think that his devotion to the fantasy world that he had created — as well as his scholarly interest in language — would not permit him to tolerate anything less than perfection in its film representation. And filmmaking was decidedly imperfect during his lifetime.
Of course, that's just an educated guess — and, perhaps, some wishful thinking.
"Alas, that these evil days should be mine. The young perish and the old linger. That I should live to see the last days of my house."
King Theoden (Bernard Hill)
I remember reading J.R.R. Tolkien's "Lord of the Rings" trilogy when I was in high school. And I remember seeing an animated version of the prequel to that story, "The Hobbit," around the same time.
And I remember hearing virtually everyone say that it would never be possible to bring the trilogy to the screen with live actors. It might be possible, some conceded, to do an animated version — but even that would be a tremendous undertaking, and success would hardly be assured.
Director Peter Jackson proved them wrong.
He began doing so in 2001 with the release of the film that was based on the first volume in the trilogy, "The Fellowship of the Ring."
If it wasn't clear to most by that time, Jackson had achieved what had been thought for so long to be beyond mortal man's grasp. He solidified that status to such a degree with the release of the second film in the trilogy 10 years ago today, in fact, that I remember everyone talking about how the expected release of the final movie in the trilogy the following year was certain to earn Jackson more than mere nominations for Oscars — and so it did.
"The Two Towers" didn't do so badly as it was. After "Fellowship of the Ring" blazed the trail, "The Two Towers" was nominated for six Oscars — and won two.
Jackson wasn't nominated for Best Director, but he made up for it the next year.
I think perhaps the best thing about a great work of fiction is that each person who reads it forms in his/her own mind an image of what he/she thinks a particular character should look like or sound like.
Sometimes those images tend to resemble each other. Other times, they are wildly at odds.
I guess my image of Gandalf the wizard was probably like most people's. Jackson clearly picked up on that, casting Ian McKellen. He was precisely what I had always imagined Gandalf to be. (Of course, I suppose that was helped along by his designation in the trilogy as "Gandalf the Grey.")
Well, except for one thing, I guess. In the trilogy's prequel, Gandalf was described as a "little old man" — not exactly a dwarf but not tall, either.
In the trilogy itself, he was described as being more man–sized but still not taller than the other wizards.
But in the film he appeared to be a towering presence. Of course, that may have been in comparison to the hobbits with whom he was surrounded. After all, Tolkien did describe hobbits as being humanlike creatures but distinguished from men by their shorter stature. They were called Little People (average height about 3½ feet).
There was really no question, though, that the middle volume of the trilogy had darker, more ominous overtones than the first and third volumes — not unlike the middle film in the original "Star Wars" trilogy, "The Empire Strikes Back."
And that makes sense, I suppose. The dual purpose of the middle volume of any good trilogy is to resolve as many issues from the first volume as possible while presenting the reader/viewer with a new set of conflicts that must be resolved in the third volume.
The first volume is almost always an upper for the reader/viewer — until near the end, when some sort of cliffhanger is presented to lure the reader/viewer back. The original "Star Wars" movie didn't exactly do that — I always felt that it could have stood alone in the annals of filmmaking and probably would have if unexpectedly strong public support for it had not encouraged the making of a second film ... and a third ... and, eventually, a fourth, fifth and sixth.
My point is that there was a certain amount of ambiguity in the late '70s about whether a "Star Wars" sequel would be made. The original had no real cliffhanger — other than whether Princess Leia would choose Han Solo or Luke Skywalker.
There was no such ambiguity when Jackson made his "Lord of the Rings" trilogy. He shot all three films simultaneously, then released each individually on an annual basis over a three–year span.
He knew, when he was making the movies, that "The Two Towers" would be a dark and forbidding kind of film and, just as it was in the original books, a bridge to the brighter and more positive finale.
I've often heard it said that "The Two Towers" was the most challenging of the three movies to make, and it's not hard to understand why. It began in the middle of the story and offered no resolution at the end beyond the promise of a third installment a year later. Yet, "The Two Towers" grossed more than $900 million worldwide — more than the first movie and more than all but 19 other films ever made.
I remember reading "The Two Towers" as a teenager and being confused by the many stories that were being told. The fellowship of the ring had been split up at the end of the first book. In "The Two Towers," Frodo and Sam were continuing their journey to Mordor while the other members of the fellowship had scattered in other directions. It was easier to follow the various threads of the story when the visual element was added.
It was in "The Two Towers" that movie viewers also got their first extended look at Gollum. He was mostly a shadowy presence in the first movie, spotted and/or heard momentarily by several characters, but in the second he emerged to lead Frodo and Sam safely to the gates of Mordor, where the battle over the One Ring would be waged in the trilogy's conclusion.
Gollum's portrayal by British actor Andy Serkis perfectly captured the character in my mind. He was precisely as I had imagined when I read those books all those years ago.
Well, I suppose there were variations on the theme. But Gollum's trademark phrase — "My precious" — certainly rang true.
And "The Two Towers" performed its dual tasks well, for Gollum made the transition from being a somewhat neutral character in it to becoming a principal antagonist in the final installment the next year.
It was the successful implementation of the middle film's critical role in a trilogy, and it was best summed up, I believe, by a remark I heard a woman make as we all left the theater at the movie's conclusion:
"What a wonderful movie that was!" she said. "I can't wait to see how it ends."
Pippin:We've had one, yes. What about second breakfast?
Merry:I don't think he knows about second breakfast, Pip.
Pippin:What about elevenses? Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper? He knows about them, doesn't he?
Merry:I wouldn't count on it.
Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring (2001)
"The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring" made me wish that my mother had lived to see J.R.R. Tolkien's trilogy brought to the silver screen.
Actually, I felt that way about all three of Peter Jackson's Middle Earth movies. It was a thought that kept weaving its way through my brain as I watched them in the theaters. It's a thought that still goes through my mind when I watch them on DVD.
Mom woulda loved this.
Mom was a reader. She liked all kinds of books, really, but she particularly liked fantasy stories.
I remember, for example, one summer when my brother and I were little, and our family went on a car trip somewhere. To keep us entertained, my mother read to us from the first book in the Narnia series, and she kept reading those books to us after we got back from our trip — until we had finished every book in that series.
Mom didn't read the Tolkien books to us. We read them on our own. Or, at least, I did — and I assume my brother did, too.
Mom must have read them, too, because I remember when an animated version of the "Lord of the Rings" prequel, "The Hobbit," was made, and she was as excited about it as anyone.
For a long time, the conventional wisdom was that animation was the only way Tolkien's books could be brought to the screen — and that seems to have repulsed some of the more prominent directors. When United Artists acquired the film rights to the books, Stanley Kubrick, who never did much (if anything) in animation (and whose "A Clockwork Orange," ironically, debuted on this date in 1971), was approached about directing the Beatles in a film based on them.
But Kubrick rejected the offer. The story could not be filmed, he reportedly told John Lennon.
Things changed in the next 30 years, though. Advances in filmmaking that were unimagined in 1970 enabled Peter Jackson to make his remarkable "Lord of the Rings," the first installment of which made its debut 10 years ago today.
When that occurred, I thought a lot about Mom. She had been gone for several years by that time so it was only natural, I suppose, for me to see it with my brother. We heard about long lines and decided to wait a few weeks to avoid the crowd — and then, for one reason and another, we wound up being delayed even more by some unforeseen circumstances.
By the time we saw it, it was near the end of its theatrical run — and the "crowd" we had wanted to avoid turned out to be nonexistent. I'm sure the theater was packed at the start of the movie's run, just like any other theater in the country, but the place was practically empty when we went to see it.
That was just fine, though, because it was like having a private screening room. We could speak to each other in a nearly normal tone of voice and not have to worry about disturbing anyone. My memory is that there was only one other person in the theater, and he was sitting a fair distance from us.
Whenever amazing things happened on the screen — and, in the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy, amazing things were always happening — we could chat about them above a whisper.
I guess it never occurred to me when I was reading the trilogy how difficult it would be to turn it into a movie — but, even with the advances in filmmaking techniques and some prudent whittling of the story, it took about nine hours of screen time spread out over three movies in three years to accomplish.
The movie that premiered 10 years ago today set the stage for what was to come — as did the book that inspired it. It introduced the audience to all the characters of Middle Earth, a not–inconsequential task but a necessary one, given the story that still had to be told.
I got my bachelor's degree in journalism from the University of Arkansas, and I got my master's degree in journalism from the University of North Texas. Most of my adult life has been dedicated to writing and editing in one form or another. Most recently I have taught writing (news and developmental) as an adjunct journalism professor at Richland College, where I advise the student newspaper staff. Go, Thunderducks!
