(avg. read time: 19–39 mins.)
While An Unexpected Journey had many bad decisions in it and changes from the book that made for a lesser story and silly action, there were still several good elements about it, both ones that were specific to it and ones that carried over to the other movies, that made it feel the most like a proper Hobbit movie. The other movies, however, would deviate more and more from the book for no good reason other than to make excuses for themselves. In other words, most of the changes and additions are there simply to try justifying the decision to make three movies. And the bad writing used to uphold most of those decisions demonstrates as much.
The Film Opens … Then It’s Mostly Downhill from Here
After an opening that shows us how Gandalf first met Thorin, which is built on information from Appendix A from LOTR and honestly does not require comment as it is fine for what it is, we are reintroduced to Azog when we transition to present-day. I think it was in The Desolation of Smaug that I first realized another problem I had with Azog, other than the bad changes from Tolkien’s writing, his bland character, and the fact that we never know why he is called “the Defiler” as his primary title. In addition to all of these points, the CGI of him makes him look like a cartoon out of place in what is supposed to be a somewhat realistic setting. And what bothers me most about that feeling is that these same filmmakers also brought us Sméagol and Smaug, and yet most of their CGI looks utterly fake. This also contrasts with the mix of CGI, incredible makeup, and intricate design that made the villains and battles of the original trilogy seem more real and threatening in part for that reason.
And now we come to Beorn, the other character introduced in this first scene in present-day. While the movie adequately captured his ambiguous character (in that he is neither friend nor foe until you push him one way or the other) and his respect for all life (except Orcs/Goblins), it messed up other aspects of his character by reducing him in significance and changing his introduction to the Dwarves. In the movie, Beorn in bear form pursues the Dwarves into his house and almost catches them until they shut the door and bar it in his face. While the extended edition shows an adaptation of their introduction to Beorn from the book, not only is its presentation ruined (because the Dwarves completely mess up the plan that Gandalf haphazardly threw together), but it is completely redundant because they are already in his house. In the book, Beorn did not like having many people show up to his house, so Gandalf got around this by telling Beorn the story of their journey and progressively warming him up to how many Dwarves were with him so that they showed up in pairs at a time. It was humorous, highlighted Beorn’s hospitality and suspicion (even potential hostility) at the same time, and it demonstrated the power of story (which Tolkien draws attention to throughout his works), particularly over him and the impatience it could bring out in him. He eventually shows himself to be a warmer person than the movie ever shows him to be, as he has only one scene in which he speaks, and he is otherwise in bear form or in the process of transformation every other time we see him in him. There is also no scene of the journey back where Beorn warmly greets Gandalf and Bilbo to show a kind of character arc for him and the friends Bilbo has made along the way, even outside of the company. He is also made less important by his lack of a real role or purpose in the Battle of the Five Armies, but I will address that later. One final note I will make on Beorn for now is that the one mention of Radagast in The Hobbit book does not have a counterpart here. That could have been another way to get us warmed up to the character and to show that he can be friendly by having him briefly discuss Radagast with Gandalf. But for some reason, that part did not make it into the movie.
Mirkwood
There is also a scene in this part of the movie in which Azog is summoned to the Necromancer and receives instruction to lead his armies. The one thing I kept thinking throughout this scene is that Azog should not be as composed as he is. This is the most powerful being in Middle-earth, one who is a threat to every creature in it, whose servants do not love him, but have a perverted loyalty to him out of fear. Yet Azog never once trembles, never expresses fear, and acts like he just got an annoying instruction from a boss he doesn’t like than a command from the Dark Lord who could snatch his very life away and/or torture him to death if he does not obey. This does not make Azog seem tough; it simply undermines the threat of the Necromancer beyond his large armies.
After the company heads into Mirkwood, sans Gandalf (who is going off on his own side-quest), we are made to realize that this movie, even more than the others, overemphasizes the Ring and tries everything to paint an ominous picture of it. Again, this is out of keeping with the book. Instead, it seems like for someone who was unexpectedly resilient against the Ring’s influence (though not impervious, by any means), his first signs of corruption emerged quite quickly after the spider attack. The audience does not need to be reminded of the Ring’s importance and how evil it is; we saw LOTR.
Concerning that same scene, Bilbo uses the Ring inconsistently during the spider attack. Instead of him doing most of the work to fight off the spiders and to lead them away from the Dwarves by throwing rocks, stabbing, and taunting them, he barely uses the Ring, he cuts down the Dwarves, and then the Dwarves and the Elves who show up later do most of the work in killing the spiders. This was supposed to be a shining moment for Bilbo, the first time at which his heroic courage really emerges to save the others, but the first movie flattened that arc considerably, which in turn changed this scene for the worse. This change also makes his line about finding his courage in the Misty Mountains ring hollow, since he already showed courage with the Trolls. He is not demonstrably more courageous after acquiring and using the Ring than he was before.
Another minor aspect to this scene annoys me because of its inconsistency with the rest of Jackson’s movies. I mentioned earlier how the Eagles don’t talk. Neither do other birds who talk in The Hobbit and actually contribute to the plot. However, the spiders can talk, and this is apparently not a problem in these movies. So why can’t the birds talk? The world may never know.
Of Capulets and Montagues Elves and Dwarves
When the Elves of the Woodland Realm show up to kill the spiders, they also capture the Dwarves in a way that is different from the book. In the book, the Dwarves have been hungry for some time, and they try to join the Elven banquets they see before the Elves leave in a flash. This is how Thorin gets captured and the rest of the Dwarves get captured later after getting ensnared by the spiders. It seems like the main reasons this was changed was to change the story surrounding Thorin and to introduce us to two characters needlessly inserted into this story.
First, we have Legolas, a popular character from LOTR, but one who did not explicitly appear in The Hobbit. He is here for 1) a desperate attempt at transference and 2) to provide the movie with a variety of ridiculous, absurd, and even asinine stunt sequences. Because why have one special moment like when he kills the Oliphaunt when you can try to be overindulgent and make people sick of seeing these absurd stunts and make every moment feel less special and less dangerous? No character inflicts more of these hilariously overblown action sequences on the audience than Legolas. This point does not make most of us admire him more or make us more interested to see his next scene; it just makes us roll our eyes. Another mistake made by including him in this story is that it inherently undermines every attempt to put him in danger, since we all know he makes it to LOTR.
Second, we have Tauriel. She was a controversial figure as the most notable invention of the film trilogy. Unlike purists, I do not object to the idea of adding new major characters, but I do think their insertion should be justified with significance and good writing, neither of which applies here. Tauriel exists in these movies 1) to be like Legolas except that she looks even more like a woman than he does, 2) to be an Elf woman who is supposed to be independent, strong-willed blah blah blah (insert preferred marketing language here that will be undermined by her actual portrayal), and 3) to be a part of a terrible love story angle that is supposed to make us feel something for Kili when he dies (because dying alongside his brother while protecting his uncle in an attempt to secure his kingship after following him across the map of Middle-earth is apparently not good enough). Most of her action sequences are not quite as over-the-top as Legolas’s, but they’re not great either. She is supposed to be the lone Elf that thinks beyond the borders of her realm and marches to the beat of her own drum, but it all feels hollow, like the writers are just checking off the boxes of what they think such a character archetype should be like rather than just writing a good character. She may think beyond the borders of her realm, but that is primarily tied to a Dwarf she barely knows but has convinced herself that she loves. She may seem to march to the beat of her own drum because she does not follow orders well, but she has trouble controlling her emotions, especially in regard to anything concerning Kili, so she is ultimately marching to the beat he makes for her. In a vain attempt to create a new and independent character, the writers have written someone whose entire arc consists of opposing gravitational pulls from Kili and Legolas, the former of which she seems wholly unable or unwilling to resist.
If any feature pinpoints why many did not like Tauriel, it was the horrible love story. It seems like it is superficially built on the model of Romeo and Juliet (which is often mistaken by people who have never read/seen it for a great love story of love overcoming all obstacles instead of a timeless illustration of young love, its passions, and its follies, especially when faced with family opposition). For simplicity’s sake, I can point to three bases of the love story in Romeo and Juliet: 1) physical attraction; 2) they are both young; 3) because of the fighting between their families, they are forbidden fruit to one another. The last two Hobbit movies try to duplicate this without all of the elements in place and without understanding what makes Romeo and Juliet interesting. We are given no basis of attraction between Tauriel and Kili beyond the physical. Neither one is particularly young, as Kili is 77 and Tauriel is around 600, so youthful passion and stupidity is not an easy recourse to fall back upon here. And while there is hostility between the Elves and the Dwarves, there is no sense of everyone on both sides attempting to oppose this romance; the most we get in terms of opposition is the fact that Legolas is also attracted to Tauriel (whom she at least knows and who knows her) and Thranduil saying that what Tauriel feels for the Dwarf is not real (presumably, speaking for the audience). And their one conversation before they decide that they love each other is about stars and a rune-stone he carries around from his mother. Beyond the physical aspect, we never see any other basis of their attraction to each other. And we cannot believe it because they have nothing discernible in common and they know practically nothing about each other. Jackson and co. act as if we are supposed to care about this relationship simply because they have all the superficial ingredients for a love story without any of its substance, and because pretty people are involved. I will get to a few more particulars later, but that in itself illustrates the problem. There is so little to this love story that there is not much specific to talk about in it. It is mostly failures at the general and fundamental level.
Thranduil: The Most Ruined of the Adapted Characters?
Now for the third member of the Elf trifecta: Thranduil, the only one of these characters who was actually in The Hobbit. In Tolkien’s stories Thranduil was a king whose natural caution had, by the time of The Hobbit, morphed into suspicion as the corruption of Greenwood the Great into Mirkwood and the influence of Dol Guldur led to frequent dangers for his realm, and he could no longer trust any strangers who came into it. The deeper reason for this caution and suspicion was his time with the Last Alliance, seeing the horrible power of Mordor, and the foreboding in his heart that it had endured all these years. He was not a complete isolationist though, as he could be convinced to act against a common enemy or for trade. In fact, it was this trade relationship with the people of Esgaroth that presented the opportunity for the company’s escape from his prison. While the movies were superficially accurate in displaying his weakness for white and silver gems, he was not so foolish as to be eager to start a battle over them, as he says prior to the Battle of the Five Armies, “long will I tarry, ere I begin this war for gold … let us hope still for something that will bring reconciliation.”
If one compares the above description with what is in the movies, one could not tell that they are the same character. Thranduil in the movies is practically a heartless jerk, a greedy and covetous Elf who is willing to let Thorin go if and only if he can have certain treasure from Erebor, one who cares nothing for other realms, and a selfish coward in battle who tries to leave when it is no longer to his liking. He absolutely will eagerly start a war over treasure, and his aid offered to the people of Esgaroth when he arrives is but an empty gesture, as he tells Bard point-blank that he did not come to help them, but to get what belongs to him (which directly contradicts his characterization in the book at this point). In case it is not obvious, I absolutely cannot stand movie Thranduil and I cannot stand that the writers decided to chuck book Thranduil in the garbage in favor of this irritating pustule.
In his first scene of dialogue with Thorin, there are a few problems, both for the movie itself and for its comparison to the book. It is remarkable how many people seem to know what Thorin is up to, as if everyone outside of Thorin’s company read the script. In the book, Thranduil does not know why Thorin is in his kingdom and when Thorin tells him he and his company were simply looking for food and drink, Thranduil locks him up until he is more forthcoming. He does the same with the rest of the company when they arrive, and offers of hospitality do not make them forthcoming either. In the movie, he knows Thorin’s quest and tells him he will let him go and help him only if he gets what he wants from Erebor’s treasure. This change turns him into more of a selfish manipulator than a cautious interrogator intent on protecting his realm.
Thranduil also has a feature without parallel in the book: a magic face. He has apparently been severely scarred by old battles with dragons in the North so that he has a blind eye. To conceal these scars, he apparently always has his magic turned on, a magic that presumably allows him to see out of a dead eye as well. Clearly the message we are supposed to get from the filmmakers is, “We don’t care.”
Finally, Thranduil refers to the Arkenstone as that which will guarantee Thorin’s right to rule. Of course, this notion goes back to that invented “divine right” business in the introduction of the first movie, although the verbiage is never again repeated, even in this scene. Apparently, Dwarves do not respect royal lineage and it takes a really shiny thing to convince them that a Dwarf deserves to rule. Does this mean just any Dwarf could take the Arkenstone and become the new ruler? Is Thorin just fortunate that none of his companions would have such ambition and thus seek to take the Arkenstone? Even if he trusts all of these Dwarves, what reason does he have to think they will not be overcome by “dragon sickness” and seek to take the Arkenstone? Or are we not supposed to know about “dragon sickness” until the third movie? There is a scene in the third movie where he expresses his distrust of them, but why was this only a concern then if this much is at stake in having the Arkenstone and if “dragon sickness” is a known risk? All the Arkenstone needed to be was the crown jewel of a vast treasury and something desirable for its beauty and its worth, as it was in the book. And at the end that is essentially what it will be because the writers end up disregarding all the buildup. After all, they don’t care.
The Second Most Absurd Action Sequence in the Movie
But enough of that, we need to get to the next layer of padding in this movie, which is a barrel chase scene as Thorin’s company escapes from Thranduil’s prison with Bilbo’s help by climbing into barrels and floating down the river. In the book, what happened was Bilbo secured all the Dwarves into barrels that were set to be floated down the river until they were collected by men of Esgaroth and steered to Esgaroth, all while Bilbo floats on top while using the Ring to stay invisible. This part is admittedly slow-paced, but the movie could have gotten around the lack of interesting events by a brief montage of shots of the country and river between the Woodland Realm and Esgaroth. Instead, the action sequence is as ridiculously perfectly coordinated and absurdly executed as all of the others, and mindless to boot because, let us remember, they are floating down a river with rapids in open barrels, as if there is no possibility of sinking in such a situation. The unarmed Dwarves also win the lottery constantly by getting the weapons that they need at the exact moments they need them to get out of whatever their current predicament is. At least one of them gets hurt this time as Kili takes a poisoned arrow to the leg while trying to open a gate the company has come up against. The problem is not only that this event is not in the book, nor is it that it is unclear why this gate exists, since the current runs from Thranduil’s realm, but also that the moment exists simply to force Tauriel back into Kili’s vicinity. And because Tauriel apparently cannot help herself when Kili is in the tri-state area, she has to look in worry when he jumps into his barrel with the arrow still in his leg. And she would have died for that stupidity of breaking her concentration from fighting born from her complete lack of self-control in this situation if not for the fact that the Orc who attacked her was literally just stabbing at the air instead of hitting her absolutely anywhere.
Besides Legolas hopping on Dwarf heads and perfectly balancing on them without ever missing a shot on Orcs—which is bad, but still not his worst action sequence in the trilogy—the worst bit of action in this sequence comes from when Bombur the Mute’s barrel ends up rolling around on the shores, mowing down every Orc in his path. I would say this is another scene that belongs in Pirates of the Caribbean instead of The Hobbit, but it would be insulting to Pirates of the Caribbean. But that’s not all. When the barrel finally stops rolling, Bombur bursts out of it with his arms and legs and proceeds to fight off every Orc around him on his way to rejoining the company—who have conveniently not floated away yet—and dropping into a spare barrel that they certainly did not have with them before. Scenes like this make it impossible to feel any sense of danger, because these super-trooper Dwarves and Elves will just kill logic on their way to killing more Orcs, and space and time will warp around them to solve their “problems” for them. Yet, having said all of this, I do not think the barrel chase is the worst action sequence in the trilogy or even in this movie.
Before we can get to that scene, we first have to endure several more awful things. One minor example is Tauriel’s perfect shot to end all perfect shots in this series. An Orc has snuck up on Legolas and drawn his bow. Once he fires his arrow, Tauriel fires a perfectly aimed and perfectly timed arrow while leaping through the air that deflects the Orc’s arrow. With such a level of skill, it’s almost as if she should never be in any combat trouble at all until the plot decides it is time for her to lose her special combat powers because of the demands of a story that she does not properly fit in. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
A Needless Detour
Before we can move on in the foolishness of the Dwarf and Elf plotlines, we must check in on the foolishness of the Gandalf plotline. Gandalf has gone to the High Fells of Rhudaur, a movie-only invention. There are two major problems with this location. One, the stairway, to use the term loosely, leading here is absurdly dangerous like nothing we have seen before and its death rate is probably close to 100%, unless you’re a Wizard, of course. This is supposed to be a stairway to a tomb with nine stone coffins. There is no way a group of people ascended those stairs along the side of a mountain carrying bodies and heavy coffins. Two, it is still absurd to try to force us to believe that the Nazgûl were buried, which never happened in Tolkien’s story. They are not wraiths because they died and Sauron decided not to let them stay dead. They are wraiths because of Sauron’s corruption of them through the Nine Rings. In the words of Gandalf from FOTR:
A mortal, Frodo, who keeps one of the Great Rings, does not die, but he does not grow or obtain more life, he merely continues, until at last every minute is a weariness. And if he often uses the ring to make himself invisible, he fades: he becomes in the end invisible permanently, and walks in the twilight under the eye of the dark power that rules the Rings. Yes, sooner or later—later, if he is strong or well-meaning to begin with, but neither strength nor good purpose will last—sooner or later the dark power will devour him. (I/2)
Likewise, in the words of Tolkien (Letter #131):
The chief power (of all the rings alike) was the prevention or slowing of decay (i.e. ‘change’ viewed as a regrettable thing), the preservation of what is desired or loved, or its semblance – this is more or less an Elvish motive. But also they enhanced the natural powers of the possessor – thus approaching ‘magic’, a motive easily corruptible into evil, a lust for domination. And finally they had other powers, more directly derived from Sauron (‘the Necromancer’: so he is called as he casts a fleeting shadow and presage on the pages of The Hobbit): such as rendering invisible the material body, and making things of the invisible world visible.
The movie shirks these metaphysical points about the nature of the Rings (including the One Ring) and the effects they could have for the sake of their slapdash plot of vastly inferior quality to the original all for the sake of making an excuse for its own existence as the second of three movies. Even so, this is far from the last time they will make such an error.
Bard the Not-So-Bad
I know I have been overwhelmingly negative about this movie thus far, even compared to the first movie, but it is at this point that I do have something positive to say. My first positive thing to say regards Bard the Bowman, the one who will kill Smaug. In the book, Bard is first introduced in the middle of a battle against Smaug, which is no time to introduce a character in a movie without constant narration. The movie introduces him even before it introduces Lake-town, since in this version Bard is a bargeman rather than a bowman soldier. We learn more about him as a compassionate, clever, and brave family man who carries himself like a leader. I do not mind at all having a hero be set up prior to his introduction in the book. I do wish it had been done differently, such as having Bard remain a bowman and have him meet the company during their welcome into town. However, I will say that my problems with the changes to Bard’s character and story in this movie are caused by the story around him being rewritten terribly; it is through no fault of the actor or the writing more specific to him.
Hitting the Brakes Before Lake-town
But before we dive into what’s wrong in Lake-town, the movie cuts back to the Woodland Realm as Thranduil interrogates the Orc Tauriel captured earlier. Apart from revealing to them the return of Sauron—and I have already explained some of my problems with that in Part 2—the Orc also has plot-convenient knowledge. Somehow, he knows that he needs to mention that a specific Dwarf was poisoned with a Morgul arrow and that he can taunt Tauriel about this specific Dwarf. How did he know the Elves would care at all about the Dwarves? How did he know that Tauriel and Kili have an unconvincing love story? Did he read the script?
Okay, Now We Can Go to Lake-town (But Who Would Want to?)
Anyway, let’s go back to Lake-town (on second thought, let’s not go there, ‘tis a silly place). It is made to be a much more depressing and dreary place than in the book. And this change has to do with the terrible idea of giving the town a stereotypically corrupt and bullying government. This government has two primary representatives. One is the Master of Lake-town, the character that was actually in the book. He is played by Stephen Fry in a comically over-the-top villainous fashion as a man who is greedy, cowardly, despicable, and practically nothing else. In the book, he is greedy and cowardly, but he is also intelligent and charismatic, a clever politician who knows how to work a crowd in his favor. In the movie, the crowd has to be dumbed down for this character to have any chance at manipulating them, and he must have a scene where he vocally scoffs at the idea of an election (as a stereotypical way of telling the audience, “Hey, I’m a villain”).
The other representative is Alfrid, a truly awful character in every way. He has no purpose, goes nowhere, is bad at everything he does, takes practically every opportunity to make the wrong decision, never misses a chance to show how irredeemable he is, and is horribly written in every way. He is a sniveling coward who delights in being evil and greedy while being completely incompetent. Did I mention he was bad in every way? And with the amount of screentime devoted to his character (especially in the third movie), he is yet another level of padding in an entire trilogy full of it, so it is no wonder that the story gets asphyxiated by all of it.
After they arrive in Lake-town, there are a few small problems that crop up in the story. The first one is how the Dwarves get to Bard’s house, which is being watched by the Master’s men. They come up through the toilet after holding their breath and swimming for who knows how long. Apparently, the family dumps their waste directly into the lake. The bigger problem though is that the weather is cold and we have seen patches of ice on the lake. Yet not a single Dwarf is even shivering when they come out of the water. None of them need to warm themselves. So what was the point of showing us how cold it is?
When Thorin looks out one of Bard’s windows and sees a wind lance, Balin brings up the movie-only rule that a dragon can only be killed by a black arrow—a long, heavy, black, metallic bolt—fired from a wind lance. We can see how badly implemented this made-up rule is in the third movie when Bard uses a black arrow, but no wind lance. This is just another abandoned setup for Jackson and co. to tell us, “We don’t care.” But I will get more into the problems with this use of the black arrow when I address the scene where Smaug dies.
In the process of laying out this made-up rule, they also bring up how Lord Girion tried to bring down Smaug in just this way. It is later revealed that one of the black arrows succeeded in knocking one of the scales on Smaug’s chest loose. Unlike many other changes in this movie, this one is not necessarily terrible. It is simply neutral. In the book, Smaug had gold and diamonds protecting his underside, except for a small part of his chest, right below his heart. Honestly, either attempt at explaining Smaug’s weak spot is acceptable.
A Poorly Implemented Prophecy
But after all of this, the issue is raised about the prophecy of the King Beneath the Mountain, yet another terrible change from the book. In the movie, the prophecy that Bard reads goes like this:
The Lord of Silver Fountains,
The King of Carven Stone,
The King Beneath the Mountain,
Shall come into his own.
And the bells shall ring in gladness,
At the Mountain King’s return.
But all shall fail in sadness,
And the Lake will shine and burn.
This is an ominous prophecy of an initial happiness at the return of the King Beneath the Mountain that will ultimately end in tragedy. Now here is the prophecy of song in the book with which the people of Esgaroth greet the company expressing their hope at what the return of Thorin will mean for them:
The King beneath the mountains,
The King of carven stone,
The lord of silver fountains
Shall come into his own!
His crown shall be upholden,
His harp shall be restrung,
His halls shall echo golden
To songs of yore re-sung.
The woods shall wave on mountains
And grass beneath the sun;
His wealth shall flow in fountains
And the rivers golden run.
The streams shall run in gladness,
The lakes shall shine and burn,
And sorrow shall fail and sadness
At the Mountain-king’s return!
The writers completely changed the tone of this prophecy by shortening it, editing it, and ending it with a different point. In fact, it becomes the basis for Bard to resist Thorin’s quest to Erebor (along with reminding people of what happened to Dale when Smaug arrived), which is ultimately fruitless, goes nowhere, and serves no purpose but to pad the movie’s length. And the prophecy will never be brought up again. The movie would have been no worse off if they went with the full hopeful prophecy and its fulfillment by the ending of the book. Instead, the ending must be gutted by having no such reference to the fulfillment of the prophecy and having the closing lines be recontextualized.
Speaking of Bard’s resistance to Thorin’s quest, it takes place in front of a fickle crowd of townspeople who initially gather to cheer Thorin’s return. During the affair, the Master undermines Bard by reminding everyone that it was Girion, Bard’s ancestor, who failed to kill Smaug. As if 1) Bard is supposed to be ashamed of this and bear the blame for it and 2) it is supposed to be an easy thing to kill a flying dragon and Girion failed at it because of incompetence. By that stupid logic, everyone’s ancestors also failed, and the Master is in no better position than Bard in this regard. It is almost as if the point didn’t need making at all, even by someone who is a despicable idiot.
After that cul-de-sac of a plot point that serves as nothing but a bit of foreshadowing for the Master to arrest Bard later, most of the company goes the rest of the way to Erebor. Some others stay behind in an episode that, you guessed, has no parallel in the book. The poison’s effect on Kili is getting worse, which means that Tauriel will be coming back into the movie at any minute now. That is the whole point of why Kili was shot, poisoned, and left behind, after all. Because we’re going to shove this love story into your faces until you consume it, dadgum it!
We Finally Make It to Erebor
As for the proper quest, another bit of padding, while not as thick as many others, is the pointless suspense surrounding the opening of the secret door. Seriously, what point did it serve to act as if they failed in their quest, even for a short time, just for them to come back at the right moment to keep the key from falling off the mountain and using it to open the door? Does every single moment have to be padded out to justify the running time? Would it have hurt anything but the runtime to streamline this scene?
In any case, as Bilbo is sent inside to find the Arkenstone, we have come to a point where I can say something truly positive about this movie again. In terms of design, visual effects, and voice acting by Benedict Cumberbatch, this movie nailed Smaug. He is a wonder to behold in terms of size and appearance. He is menacing, intimidating, proud, arrogant, greedy, fierce, easily angered, and has a propensity to taunt his prey. He hits all the right notes thus far. The problems with Smaug have nothing to do with his scene with Bilbo or with the aforementioned elements. The problems all revolve around things that the writers added because they didn’t know what they were doing.
But First…
Before we can get to that business, we have to address other storylines first, because unlike the movie cutting back and forth between storylines, I don’t want anything to get in the way of the unadulterated absurdity of the action in Erebor when the time comes. Bard is tracked down by the Master’s men who tell him that he is under arrest. When Bard asks what the charge is, the leader says, “Any charge the Master chooses.” Seriously, how old was the person who wrote that line? I know trumped up charges happen in places with corrupt governments that actively work against the people. But having an officer say this so blatantly shows how lacking the writers were in the imagination department. At some point in drafting this script, whoever was in charge of the characterization in Lake-town said, “Let’s just have them say evil stuff. It doesn’t matter how moronic it sounds. After all, what’s our motto? ‘We don’t care.’”
We then wrap up another storyline for this film when Tauriel arrives to find Kili succumbing to the poison of the Morgul arrow. And good thing, too, because apparently using athelas/kingsfoil is only effective when a pretty Elf does some leg rubbing and an incantation (which comically also causes her to glow in Kili’s vision). If all of this was necessary, Óin could not have done anything for Kili, even though he knew athelas/kingsfoil would heal Kili, because he is not a pretty Elf who can speak pretty words. You know who didn’t have to do all this leg rubbing and incantation? Aragorn. He even used the weed to help in healings that had an almost exorcism-like component to them, but he did not need to use magic words to unlock its power. Nor are we ever given an indication that you need magic words to unlock its power. This addition is just there to have Tauriel say pretty words so that Kili can stare longingly.
On the other side of this scene, Kili later speaks to Tauriel about Tauriel, presumably while he is a delirious state. He asks, “Do you think she could ever love me?” Realistically, with as much as you know about each other, no. But the bastardized plot requires it, so she most certainly will “love” you. Otherwise, the only other thing to talk about in this side-plot is Legolas’s action, which is bad but not especially egregious, and is there simply for padding, so we will not dwell on it further.
Okay, Back to Erebor and the Worst Action Sequence in the Movie
And now, let us dissect the most idiotic action sequence in the trilogy and one of the worst action sequences in the history of big-budget films. The premise is that Thorin apparently improvised a plan to trick Smaug into starting fires that would melt the gold in the furnaces that would then be transported to be poured into a statue mold that happened to be there, all in an effort to drown Smaug in melted gold. Sounds convoluted, right? Yet, the sloppy way in which I narrated it does not at all compare to the sloppy way it is executed as the climax of the movie. The thought that anyone who did not read the book but saw this movie would get the impression that Tolkien would write something so brain-deadening induces what feels like a virulently violent vomiting reaction in me. There are plenty of problems here, and I don’t know that I caught them all. But let’s go through them.
First, this sequence crystallizes the problems with the action sequences throughout these movies. The members of the company constantly escape peril at the last possible second, survive things unscathed that they absolutely should not have, and never feel like they are in danger, despite what the film is trying incompetently to tell us. The constant overexposure of the group to perilous situations has numbed us to feeling as if they are in actual danger and has taken our investment out of the action sequence. While sequences like this one have the purpose of drawing us in, the incompetent use and execution of them ultimately pushes us away. And because the movie has trained us to expect nothing to come of all of this action, the action sequence is there for no reason but to take up time.
Second, what further highlights the lack of suspense in this whole sequence is the set design. All of the conveniences stack on top of each other so that whatever the situation, whatever the Dwarves need at that particular moment, they immediately have it at hand. This whole sequence was designed and coordinated so badly because the makers started with the idea that the Dwarves are going to escape, again, and they built the set entirely around that purpose.
Third, it makes the villain look bad. While Smaug’s first scene with Bilbo was well done and fit the book, this action sequence undermines that work by turning Smaug into just any old movie villain. He gets easily distracted so that one wonders if Thorin’s plan would have failed if a bird had suddenly come into the cave or a squirrel scampered across the floor. He has to be dumbed down to the point of falling multiple times for the “Hey, look over here” trick. And even when he decides to go to Lake-town to take out his anger on them in retaliation for what Bilbo and the Dwarves have done (which he did in the book because of Bilbo calling himself “Barrel Rider,” indicating to him a link with the people of Lake-town), he suddenly turns around when Thorin calls out to him, as if he forgot what he was doing. Furthermore, Smaug has multiple chances to kill everyone, if not for the fact that he forgets at convenient times that he can breathe fire (or, in one case, he waits until all the company hides behind pillars so that movie physics can save them from his fire). In one particularly egregious case, he has Thorin on the tip of his nose. At this point, he should either swallow him whole, breathe out his fire, or both so that he can have a cooked meal. Instead, he decides to balance Thorin up there, slowly open his mouth, and slowly charge up his fire. This is not him taunting his prey, like with Bilbo before; it is simply contrived foolishness because the plot requires Thorin to live at this point, but the writers require him to be in fake peril. And, of course, the whole plan of the molten gold would not have worked without him being in the right place at the right time with the right level of stupidity.
Fourth, the stupid, convoluted plan ends up accomplishing nothing. The unimpressive conclusion to all of this fooling about features the Dwarves slowly removing the mold to reveal a new golden statue while Smaug patiently waits to see what the Dwarves are doing instead of torching all of them right then and there. As Smaug stares at the golden statue, it then bursts forth—since it has not solidified yet—and covers the floor of the hall and Smaug in gold. Smaug then gets up, charges, and then flies away, shaking off all the gold in the end. This long sequence had no lasting effect on Smaug, it didn’t change his plans, it didn’t at least present the audience with an exciting spectacle, and Smaug literally shakes it off as if nothing happened. How wonderful it is to spend so much time on a sequence of events that accomplishes nothing.
Fifth, there is a small side-quest here as Thorin tells Balin to whip up something called “flash fire.” It is a projectile explosive weapon that causes a small sparkling fire when it explodes. Balin and some others put together vials of flash fire and begin throwing them at Smaug. What does this accomplish? Nothing. It doesn’t slow Smaug down, it doesn’t harm him, and it doesn’t even distract him. Apparently, Jackson thought the scene didn’t have enough padding.
Sixth, no great action sequence involves a wheelbarrow. The two are mutually exclusive. I am being a bit facetious here (because I know that does not translate well across the Internet), but I would defy anyone to defend the use of the wheelbarrow as being of any benefit to this sequence. I lost count of how many times I rolled my eyes during this sequence, but I do remember one of them being at Thorin using a wheelbarrow. I remember thinking, “What do you suppose that is going to do in this situation?” And then I saw how he used it as a boat to float down a river of molten gold, and I rolled my eyes again. It looks stupid and is stupid. And it is perfectly emblematic of how convoluted, impractical, and ineffective this prolonged sequence is. It is there not because of practicality but because Thorin needs something to save him here.
Seventh, the statue mold being there creates unnecessary questions. Why is it there? How did Thorin remember it was there? How did he know everything would still be in perfect position and condition for creating this statue? He has been gone 171 years, after all (I know the movie doesn’t agree with the book’s chronology, but in any case, Thorin has clearly been away from the mountain for a few generations of Men since Girion is referred to as Bard’s ancestor). Finally, for the love of all that is good and holy, can someone explain to me what convinced him that using this statue mold in a long, drawn-out, convoluted plan relying on so many layers of convenience, including tricking Smaug into lighting the fires to melt the gold, would be the best way to fight Smaug?
Eighth, this sequence lasts for a long time, between 10 to 15 minutes when you combine all the parts together. It had overstayed its welcome by minute 1, but it kept going and going. Even in a movie with a pre-credit runtime of around 2 ½ hours, that is way too much time to devote to a pointless action sequence that will accomplish nothing.
This last problem contributes to the terrible choice of an ending spot. If one accepts the absurd premise of making this one book into three movies, at the very least this movie needs to end with Smaug’s death in Esgaroth. The next movie could even open with a recap of this scene, but Jackson foolishly saved it for the next movie. Instead, we end on a terrible cliffhanger as Smaug flies to Esgaroth and Bilbo asks, “What have we done?” Well, Bilbo, you added too much needless fluff. If you cut out the love story, shortened the escape from the Woodland Realm, removed every scene with Alfrid, avoided the conflict between Bard and Thorin (as well as Bard and the Master), cut out the silly side-plot stuff, and skipped the most idiotic action sequence in the whole trilogy, there would be more than enough time for the scene of Smaug in Esgaroth and this movie could have been under two hours. Even if you just cut out the last action sequence, that would give you more than enough time. But as we have established, these movies exist to make excuses for themselves.