(avg. read time: 57–113 mins.)
This movie has undergone arguably the most extensive and drastic collection of changes (as opposed to omissions), not least because a significant portion of the book is deferred until the next movie (which is chronologically sound for the most part). In some cases, these changes are quite radical. In others, especially my favorite scene in the movie, they are changes that nevertheless remain faithful to the heart of the story. In between these changes is a movie that is an outstanding adaptation and a worthy successor to FOTR, albeit with a few problematic adaptation decisions.
How to Begin
Given how the makers changed where FOTR ended, they needed a replacement to start this movie strongly and provide an effective transition into the new chapter. They decided to make that transitional introduction an expanded flashback in the form of the battle between Gandalf and the Balrog, an incredible scene in which they fight while falling down an incomprehensibly deep pit. The blaring score combined with the choir (as in their first encounter in FOTR) accentuates the intense gravity of this fight between two titans of Middle-earth, one in the form of a wizened old man and the other in the form of a giant, hulking fire demon.
I also like the extreme long shot near the end of this sequence that shows the immensity of this setting and how the relative smallness of the characters in the central conflict contrasts with their significance as Maiar who took part in the shaping of the world and its history. It was also an interesting way of showing them finally reaching the bottom of the pit before they made contact with the pool. Naturally, the fight on the way down the pit is not described in detail in the book, but this is consistent with what we see in the book of the fight between these powers going from the uncharted depths of the caverns to the peak of the mountains above.
The Taming of Sméagol
The first side of the story we are presented with after this flashback, in contrast with the books, is Frodo and Sam’s. Some bits of dialogue are drawn with only slight alteration from the book, such as Sam’s line about Mordor being where they need to go but can’t get to. Even the scene with the lembas has dialogue drawn from the book with slight alterations. One unfortunate effect of the editing of the theatrical version is that this was the introduction of the bread to the movies, which meant that the audience did not get the “lembas commercial” (as Orland Bloom refers to it) from the Extended Edition of FOTR to speak of how filling it is. Of course, there is no further exposition on the bread’s virtue, as there is no narrator to supply it beyond what Legolas had briefly said in the previous movie. But it is better to have it back in the Extended Edition to signal that they do have seemingly sufficient provisions for the rest of the journey, yet it is all one kind of food, and so even with such great bread, the Hobbits are bound to wish for a change (and the scene where we find Sam has been carrying seasoning further emphasizes that he is trying to carry on his Hobbit sensibilities and habits wherever and however he can). This conveys well enough what is in the book even without taking all of the dialogue word-for-word. There is even a short bit here illustrating Sam’s wonder at the Elven rope, together with Sam and Frodo’s mildly comical reaction to the fact that the rope came loose so easily (which is accurate to the book, minus the extra commentary there). Ultimately, this whole opening serves well as a faithful adaptation of the book and achieving the same purpose of establishing what a fix Frodo and Sam are in of being lost in the Emyn Muil, which in turn establishes their need for Gollum’s help.
In the scene where they encounter Gollum, I am glad that the filmmakers kept Frodo’s more active role in this scene, in contrast to previous cases I have noted where his agency is reduced. He is the one who has the decisive role in the taming of Sméagol (as the chapter in the book is titled) as he shows more of his characteristic combination of authoritativeness and compassion than in his relationship with Sam. Although he is Sam’s master—hence why Sam typically calls him “Mr. Frodo”—he treats him more like a friend (in book and film), but for Gollum he acts more like a master and the movie does well to show that fact.
Speaking of which, it seems to me that the movie has simplified the dynamics between Frodo, Sam, and Sméagol. That is not inherently a detriment, but the manner in which it sets up for a crucial sequence in the next part will ultimately be to ROTK’s detriment as an adaptation. Frodo is compassionate toward Sméagol, even addressing him by that name, without the due suspicion that his book counterpart maintains. Sam only distrusts Sméagol/Gollum (whose distinct personalities he calls “Slinker” and “Stinker”) and keeps trying to convince Frodo to get rid of him without the few attempts at compassion and getting along that his book counterpart makes (with the exception of a short scene in Osgiliath near the end of the movie that is only in the Extended Edition). Gollum returns Sam’s hostility with hostility while Sméagol adores and faithfully obeys Frodo up until he thinks Frodo has betrayed him, yet without the entirely suspicious behavior all throughout the journey of his book counterpart. While all of these elements reflect the book as far as they go, the inaccurate portrayals are the results of omissions. But trust me when I say that I have plenty of occasions to discuss what I think works well in these portrayals (especially Sméagol’s/Gollum’s) and what I think could have been improved by following the book.
Which Two Towers?
Although Saruman had briefly mentioned in FOTR that Sauron could not take bodily form without the Ring, I decided to hold off until this movie to address it because this movie begins the real visual presentation of the idea that Sauron exists tangibly only as the Eye atop Barad-dûr. As is more widely known by now, the book does not say that Sauron could not take bodily form; it really does not describe much of anything about his current appearance. Sauron does become disembodied when vanquished and it takes more and more of his energy to reconstitute a body when each body is destroyed, and Tolkien explicitly says he did rebuild his body after the battle with Gil-galad and Elendil (Letter #200). Tolkien also responds to a reader by imagining a scenario in which there would have been a confrontation between Sauron and Frodo, which involves Sauron himself coming to Mount Doom (Letter #246). A similar situation is imagined in which Sauron could come to Cirith Ungol (IV/10) or Minas Tirith (V/4). He is said to have four fingers on the hand from which Isildur cut the Ring (IV/3). Additionally, but perhaps more ambiguously, Sauron is said to “sit” in the Dark Tower/Barad-dûr (II/7).
It is not that the Ring was the guarantor of his bodily form; the Ring simply contains a massive share of his former power, which he desires for his domination of wills and the assurance of his rule over Middle-earth for as long as any can foresee (presumably, in his arrogance, Sauron might even imagine he could thwart the decreed End of the present world if he had the Ring, or perhaps he foolishly thought the divine plan had changed and Ilúvatar could have abandoned his creation). When the Ring is destroyed, he cannot take physical form again simply because he has lost too much power. I am not sure why the filmmakers decided to restrict themselves in this way. I am not even saying they were necessarily wrong to put so much focus on the Eye of Sauron, as it is not unreasonable for this icon of his to be something of a focal point, but they did not need to make it the exclusive sign of his presence. Oddly, this is something that the film adaptations of The Hobbit got closer to being right. Of course, I would say this is more of a flaw in the presentation than of what the filmmakers actually think, as there was an abandoned idea that we will note next time about Sauron taking bodily form in the final battle. That is, they do not think that Sauron is incapable of taking bodily form, but the way the film is edited implies that he is only tangibly present as this Lidless Eye. Of course, the line from Saruman is still a problem that would need to be addressed in this situation.
Now I would be remiss if I did not address something that those who have read my Rings of Power review might be wondering. I identified many frequently recurring issues with the show, one of which was a consistent lack of spatial awareness of where and how far apart things are. Is there not a case of that in this movie as we see Barad-dûr and how Mount Doom is clearly visible from it, despite being 25–30 miles away in the book? Not at all. The top of Barad-dûr is around 3,000 feet high and from that height one can see over 70 miles. I am unsure that I can confidently say that the distance is represented precisely—or at least reasonably accurately—by the onscreen visual, but that it would be this clearly visible, especially over a plain, is not a problem. I imagine that the closing shot of this movie does not accurately represents the distance, but that is more of an issue of what the shot conveys than any explicit statement or indication in the text of the film. That shot serves more of an encapsulating function setting these two landmarks in the same shot as a way of representing what awaits Frodo, Sam, and Gollum, which is fine artistically, whether or not it is literally accurate.
As Saruman has no scenes in the book independent of the Fellowship, obviously his monologue is film-only. It conveys from a different perspective what LOTR as a whole does from the doubtful perspectives of the Free Peoples regarding the changing of the world at this closing of the Third Age. For the Free Peoples, this changing of the world may be for good or evil and it will necessarily involve loss, but they will do what they can to see that their participation in it is for the good. For Saruman, this changing of the world is supposedly under the control of him and his new master, Sauron. He firmly believes that they can accomplish this change by their will to power, the machines of industry, the strength of their armies, and the corruption of the world around them. The visuals admirably augment and support Saruman’s perspectival monologue point-by-point. While the monologue scene may not be from the book, it is in continuity with the spirit therein and it well illustrates how to convey features of a verbal medium in a medium that is also visual. It is also a wonderful example of film characterization via verbal and visual means.
Unfortunately, the adaptation logic I wrote about before—in terms of generally trying to stick with information more crucial to the plot—seems to dictate that entire ethnicities get a reduced role if they do not vanish altogether. In some cases, I think this is fine, because they simply augment an event rather than provide any independent contribution to the story (such as the Variags of Khand or the half-troll men of Far Harad). In other cases, such as with the Dunlendings, the consequences are more significant. The Dunlendings merely become raiders picking on the vulnerable of the Westfold, rather than wild warriors who work in fealty to Saruman (despite the pledge of allegiance in the Extended Edition, this point does not fundamentally change). Thus, they do not take part in the Battle of the Hornburg at Helm’s Deep, which means this scene in the aftermath does not happen:
No Orcs remained alive; their bodies were uncounted. But a great many of the hillmen had given themselves up; and they were afraid, and cried for mercy.
The Men of the Mark took their weapons from them, and set them to work.
“Help now to repair the evil in which you have joined,” said Erkenbrand; “and afterwards you shall take an oath never again to pass the Fords of Isen in arms, nor to march with the enemies of Men; and then you shall go free back to your land. For you have been deluded by Saruman. Many of you have got death as the reward of your trust in him; but had you conquered, little better would your wages have been.”
The men of Dunland were amazed; for Saruman had told them that the men of Rohan were cruel and burned their captives alive. (III/8)
Of course, this scene would need a change, since Erkenbrand is not in the movie (meaning that he would likely be replaced by Éomer), but it could have nevertheless made a strong impression in the movie as it did in the book.
The Rohirrim
The scenes after this monologue establish characters new to this trilogy and so the next few paragraphs will summarize my views on these characters. First, there is Éomer played by Karl Urban in his breakout film role (though far from his first). In his basic characteristics as a valiant and skilled warrior fiercely loyal to his king (even in spite of him), he conforms well to his book counterpart. He is arguably a slightly harder man and more of a renegade than he is in the books. The major difference is in his relationship to those outside of Rohan. Because of the demands that come with changing the story, his relationships with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli have more of the character of comradeship rather than true camaraderie. We do not get the sense that Éomer becomes a dear friend to Aragorn in addition to being a reliable ally, nor do we see much of the relationship between him and Gimli beyond the development of initial hostility to non-confrontational comradeship (since, of course, Gimli’s defensiveness regarding Galadriel is absent here). Éomer’s character is thus reduced, but I am not sure it could have ultimately been avoided without reworking Erkenbrand back into the story, and I think what remains of his character is sufficient for his role in the movie.
Second is Éowyn played by Miranda Otto in her most well-known role. Like Arwen, she has a more extensive role compared to her book counterpart, and I think such an expansion suits the character and the actress playing her. I comment on several of these expanded or added scenes below, but I settle here for general observations. Éowyn is quite like her book counterpart in both appearance and personality, a maiden hardened and cooled but not overly calloused by the rough times in which she lives and by the fact that she has the heart and spirit of a warrior but (according to everyone around her) not the body of one. She sees her very life as a cage when all she wants to do is serve her realm and her king in the peace and glory she thinks is their due, though in these times she thinks it necessary to do so by fighting for them with the rest of the warriors. For similar reasons, she is infatuated with Aragorn—and the movies portray this well both visually and verbally—not because she loves him deeply, but because he represents a path of deliverance and exaltation from her life as it is now, glory beyond the dwindling realm of Rohan, and the kind of heroism that is capable of great deeds and will long be renowned and retold to which she would wish to be linked if she cannot have her death wish.
Third is Théoden played by veteran actor Bernard Hill. He is a king who feels disgraced by his legacy (not least because of the recent years of dotage brought on by Saruman’s corruption) and calloused by the hard times in which he lives, seeing the Westfold burning and doing nothing about it, having to bury his only son, and feeling absolutely overwhelmed by his enemies. He is thus more of a melancholy and obstinate character than he is in the books. Nevertheless, these movies effectively show via progressive revelation his fundamental courage, compassion, valor, and thirst for the redemption of his time and his kingdom. The increased dynamism of his character arc as a result requires some versatile and well-timed work on the part of Hill as he must balance conflicting emotions and characteristics in this progressively revelatory portrayal. Fortunately, he is up to the task and the result is one of the more compelling character adaptations of this film and the next.
Finally among the Rohirrim is the one who sticks out as much as his pale face contrasts with his dark attire: Gríma Wormtongue, played by Brad Dourif, another veteran actor (who Jackson thought had a British accent because he talked that way even off-set up until his last day of shooting when he returned to his American accent). As the character’s nickname implies, he is a deceiver who has a way with words and a talent for twisting the words and actions of others. He has some intelligence, as he truly can serve as an advisor (and he was once valuable in that respect), but he is lacking in integrity as he is a coward who prefers subterfuge to confrontation. Like Gollum, he is a pitiful creature who is an object lesson on how nothing evil was always so. Like Gollum, he is offered opportunities at redemption, but his cowardice ultimately works against him when the opportunities are presented. Like Gollum, he has an ill-favored and unsettling look about him, though obviously not to as extreme of degree, as his lack of eyebrows make his eyes seem sunken into his skull and his extreme paleness gives him an almost wraithlike appearance. Dourif complements this appearance well with the slithery/wormy delivery of his lines and by his slinking and cowering movements.
Now back to the events. There is a brief scene in the Extended Edition that shows the outcome of the First Battle of the Fords of Isen, at which Théodred died. Here, he is mortally wounded, and so Éomer takes him to Edoras to report to the king. After bringing back Théodred and confronting Gríma, Éomer is banned from Edoras under penalty of death. The Extended Edition makes clear that this was an order signed by Théoden himself, obviously under Gríma’s influence. This action is not in the book. Éomer is arrested for defying the king’s orders about pursuing the Uruks, but he is banned in the movie even prior to his attack on the Uruks because of the necessity of the story. After all, if you are going to cut out Erkenbrand because you didn’t want to introduce a new character at the end of the second movie that is crucial to its resolution, you might as well make it Éomer who rides to Théoden’s rescue. It is probably obvious that I do not mind this change as I think the story of the film justifies it well enough.
The scene in which Éomer and his éored meet the Three Hunters is, of course, much shorter than its book counterpart and it addresses fewer issues in Middle-earth and among these characters. The dialogue is mostly just functional enough to establish the situation and a more truncated version of the characters’ relationships to one another. In the case of the latter, Éomer and Gimli still start off on the wrong foot, but it is due more to Éomer’s curtness and death threat rather than his ignorant statements about Galadriel. In the former case, we see an unfortunate side-effect of the makers’ generally good sense in keeping what is strictly necessary to tell the basic story and cutting out most of the rest (in the theatrical version, at least). Aragorn is not given an opportunity to show his kingly bearing in boldness in addition to his diplomacy displayed in this scene:
“I serve no man,” said Aragorn, “but the servants of Sauron I pursue into whatever land they may go. There are few among mortal Men who know more of Orcs; and I do not hunt them in this fashion out of choice. The Orcs whom we pursued took captive two of my friends. In such need a man that has no horse will go on foot, and he will not ask for leave to follow the trail. Nor will he count the heads of the enemy save with a sword. I am not weaponless.”
Aragorn threw back his cloak. The elven-sheath glittered as he grasped it, and the bright blade of Andúril shone like a sudden flame as he swept it out. “Elendil!” he cried. “I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, and am called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dúnadan, the heir of Isildur Elendil’s son of Gondor. Here is the Sword that was Broken and is forged again! Will you aid me or thwart me? Choose swiftly!”
Gimli and Legolas looked at their companion in amazement, for they had not seen him in this mood before. He seemed to have grown in stature while Éomer had shrunk; and in his living face they caught a brief vision of the power and majesty of the kings of stone. For a moment it seemed to the eyes of Legolas that a white flame flickered on the brows of Aragorn like a shining crown. (III/2)
I understand that the writers are telling a different kind of story with Aragorn so that he does not accept his destiny until the third film, but that character arc unfortunately leads to Aragorn’s kingly character not being properly fleshed out over the course of the series like it is in the books.
Furthermore, there was a missed opportunity here for making a more profound point that Tolkien makes in the book version of this conversation. Éomer has seen surpassingly strange characters in his land, has seen legends (such as the Hobbits, whom the Rohirrim know as Holbytla) and faint shadows of the past come to life, and has had his prejudice against the Lady of the Wood upended by the aforementioned strange characters. In all of his consternation he asks, “How shall a man judge what to do in such times?” Aragorn’s answer is simple, but touches on traditional wisdom that all people need when they think they are facing an entirely unprecedented time or a time for which they were not prepared, “‘As he ever has judged,’ said Aragorn. ‘Good and ill have not changed since yesteryear; nor are they one thing among Elves and Dwarves and another among Men. It is a man’s part to discern them, as much in the Golden Wood as in his own house’” (III/2). Obviously, the movie could not have included all of the great Tolkien dialogue, but I think it could have been improved with a few such reflections on discerning good and evil in a troubling time.
Éomer’s punctuating line in this scene—“do not trust to hope, it has forsaken these lands”—is original to the film, but it is another example of the makers generally grasping the source material well, even if they go beyond it. It faithfully expresses Éomer’s frustration at his current situation, seeing his proud kingdom crumbling and feeling unable to do anything to stop it. It also does well to capture the spirit of the time in which he lives, both in Rohan and beyond. Tolkien makes frequent use of the word “hope” throughout the books, most often as something that the Fellowship is seemingly lacking. Gandalf works to provide it where he can, but he can only do so much. And even where there is not apparent hope, the burden of responsible action still remains. Despite having no apparent hope that the Quest or any of their smaller purposes should succeed, Tolkien’s heroes do what must be done with or without hope. After all, this is a point at which Tolkien is drawing on Norse heroism, even if he contextualizes it Christianly, much like the Beowulf-poet, whose character and work he had analyzed extensively in “Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics.” In Norse theology, the virtuous heroes were allies to the gods, the same gods who—for the most part—would die in Ragnarök. However, victory did not decide right and wrong, and even if the forces of chaos, destruction, and death would overcome even the gods, the cultivation of the virtuous indomitable will and doing what must be done anyway was what was essential to the Norse, not being on the winning side. Since in Tolkien’s imagination characters like Éomer are pre-Christian, this kind of belief is a good signpost in anticipation of the proper Christian revelation that gives the valor of the indomitable will (and the accompanying moral character) its proper context (as an endowment by God on the creatures that bear his image) and its proper conclusion (the eternal victory of God over evil, of life over death, of creation over destruction, of image-bearing virtue over sin). (In addition to my forthcoming book on The Hobbit, see here, here, here, and here.)
Treebeard
Treebeard (a.k.a. Fangorn) is the next significant character introduced, voiced ironically by Gimli, John Rhys-Davies. He is substantially like he is in the book, although he is more suspicious toward Merry and Pippin at first and is more cautious at the crucial Entmoot than his book counterpart. But otherwise, between his design (which is a fine mix of tree and man that favors the former), his booming voice, his lumbering strides, his slow cadence, and his personality and mannerisms befitting the most ancient of Middle-earth inhabitants, Treebeard is a well-realized adaptation. And incredibly well designed to boot, as his model was actually built from molds taken of bark, his scenes are frequently a mix of a digital face with an animatronic body, and his CGI scenes were so intricately crafted that it could take up to 48 hours to animate and render a single frame for him, albeit on computers that are rather old by today’s standards.
The Extended Edition also hints at what was a more prominent aspect of Treebeard’s character (and that of the Ents in general) when he tells Merry and Pippin about losing the Entwives and how he does not remember what they look like. Tolkien constantly indicates, especially in ROTK that, whatever may befall in the immediate future, the Ents’ fate within this world is a tragic one. Without the Entwives they are not able to reproduce and all of them will eventually become treeish rather than the shepherds of the forest that they were made to be. The process may be slow—Treebeard himself is has lived since long before the sun and moon first shone their light—but it is inevitable. But this is a world-building aspect of the book and one that Tolkien himself took personal interest in as a devoted nature-lover; it is not a significant plot thread within the main story. Still, I cannot help but wish that the next movie had included the final interaction with Merry and Pippin, including the reference to the final fate that awaits the Ents. The movies are not worse for not including more on this aspect of Tolkien’s mythology, but they could have portrayed an even more interesting world if they did.
The Dead Marshes
One of those little scenes in the movie that makes a significant impact is the scene in the Dead Marshes after Gollum has saved Frodo’s life once already. Frodo awakes and hears Gollum talk about the Precious. Frodo then reminds him of something that Gandalf had apparently told him off-screen (although this information was revealed to him in the “Shadow of the Past” chapter in the book): Gollum was once not so different from a Hobbit. He then calls him Sméagol and Sméagol reacts fittingly to a name he knows but has not heard in a long, long time. In his reaction, we see something of what Gandalf told Frodo about Gollum’s interaction with Bilbo, “There was a little corner of his mind that was still his own, and light came through it, as through a chink in the dark: light out of the past. It was actually pleasant, I think, to hear a kindly voice again, bringing up memories of wind, and trees, and sun on the grass, and such forgotten things” (I/2). After all this time that his persona has become inextricably connected with the Ring, to hear someone say his real name again reminds him of a time when the Ring had not consumed him, when he was a different person, when he could walk around outside in the daylight without despising every step he took. This scene establishes a motif that is also in the book: Frodo has a tendency to call Sméagol by his real name, giving him respect as a person, but Sam has a tendency to call him Gollum—after his personality as defined by the Ring—or one of his less kind nicknames, constantly putting a wall of separation between himself and this creature he regards as a villain.
The White Rider
Then the audience is reintroduced to the beloved Gandalf, now as Gandalf the White. He is still Gandalf, yet he is also different, not least because he is some way “more” himself than the denizens of Middle-earth have known him to be at this point. As the Extended Edition accurately conveys, he is Saruman as he was meant to be, but he is also Gandalf as he has always been. The book highlights the discontinuity between Grey and White as a discontinuity of power; Gandalf is more powerful now, more capable of carrying out his mission against Sauron and for Middle-earth (especially now that he is the only Wizard still clearly dedicated to the mission), but still just as resistant to the urge to use his power to compel his allies or make them dependent on him. But there are also subtle changes to his personality. In the book, Merry describes it as well as anyone, “He has grown, or something. He can be both kinder and more alarming, merrier and more solemn than before, I think. He has changed; but we have not had a chance to see how much yet” (III/11). Pippin adds that he thinks Gandalf is closer (or even coyer) than ever before. This is what I mean when I say he is Gandalf as he has always been, but he is now “more” Gandalf, so to speak; he is Gandalf with his personality further amplified. The movie subtly portrays this too, though it never has dialogue like this that makes this point explicit. The most that is said here in the movie is that Gandalf still speaks in riddles and that he has quite a temper. It is more of an inherent aspect of the script and performance that conveys the amplified Gandalf than it is a matter of any scene that clearly expresses these features of continuity and discontinuity.
Gandalf’s reentrance into the story also contains two subtle notes retained in reverse order from the book—one in verbal form, the other in concept—that convey this sense of higher powers and divine providence at work in the narrative. First, he tells the Three Hunters that he has been sent back until his task is done. As one can imagine, this is the passive voice most likely indirectly referring to Eru Ilúvatar, rather than the Valar as such (as Tolkien himself says in Letter #156). Like the book on this particular point, Jackson and co. do not expand on the meaning of this statement; they simply leave it there as a curious, evocative note. Second, when Gandalf says more than mere chance brought Merry and Pippin to Fangorn, he is reflecting a couple of statements from his book counterpart. On the one hand, he says (in III/5), “It was not in vain that the young hobbits came with us, if only for Boromir’s sake. But that is not the only part they have to play. They were brought to Fangorn and their coming was like the falling of small stones that starts an avalanche in the mountains.” On the other hand, he says more directly to this point, “So between them our enemies have contrived only to bring Merry and Pippin with marvelous speed, and in the nick of time, to Fangorn, where otherwise they would never have come at all!” Obviously, neither Sauron nor Saruman intended to bring these Hobbits to Fangorn, yet that is ultimately what their efforts and their conflicting wills amounted to. Against their own purposes, they served another, that which is more than mere chance.
One scene that appears only in the Extended Edition features a dialogue between Gandalf and Aragorn that draws from their dialogue in Fangorn Forest in the book, as well as from a scene in the second chapter of Book V. Functionally, this part is more equivalent to the dialogue in Fangorn because it is essentially giving a sitrep on Mordor, Isengard, and their plans of attack. In the midst of it, he notes that one of Sauron’s chief motivations comes from the fact that he is not so mighty yet that he is above fear, and doubt ever gnaws at him, because the rumor has reached him that the heir of Númenor still lives, which is slightly altered from what Aragorn himself says in ROTK: “Now in the very hour of his great designs the heir of Isildur and the Sword are revealed; for I showed the blade re-forged to him. He is not so mighty yet that he is above fear; nay, doubt ever gnaws him” (V/2). Gandalf’s subsequent line in the movie scene simply makes explicit the significance of this line from the book, “Sauron fears you, Aragorn. He fears what you may become.” But returning to the dialogue from Fangorn, Gandalf notes that the advantage they have over their enemies is that the Ring remains hidden and the fact that they should seek to destroy it has not entered their darkest dreams (this statement is only made in reference to Sauron in the book). The scene also reflects Gandalf’s relief at knowing that Sam has gone to Mordor with Frodo, knowing that Frodo will not have to face the great perils of that realm alone (and perceiving that Sam will be essential to the salvation of Middle-earth).
The Black Gate Is Closed
The scene when Frodo, Sam, and Gollum arrive at the Black Gate has a decent balance of action, dialogue, and tension that is heightened by comparison to its book counterpart. Only the movie features Sam sliding down the hill’s slope, getting stuck, and needing rescue by Frodo and his Elven cloak (as this is the movie’s acknowledgment of the cloaks’ ability to camouflage against a variety of backgrounds, which the filmmakers otherwise could not adequately convey, by Jackson’s own admission, much like Saruman becoming “Saruman of Many Colours”). The dialogue is also significantly reduced from the book counterpart to the point that it serves to move the plot along but not much else. On the one hand, I can appreciate this change as giving Frodo something to do, but it is still a step or so down from the book, even if it is as significant in the story of the film as saving Sam and himself from being discovered within sight of Mordor. On the other hand, I miss certain scenes from this chapter. First, the movie is understated at the point in which Frodo states his resolve to enter Mordor, in contrast to the book: “‘I am commanded to go to the land of Mordor, and therefore I shall go,’ said Frodo. ‘If there is only one way, then I must take it. What comes after must come.’” Second, when Gollum tells Frodo about the other path into Mordor, Frodo’s disposition toward Gollum is different than the favorable version in the movie: “‘Sméagol,’ he said, ‘I will trust you once more. Indeed, it seems that I must do so, and that it is my fate to receive help from you, where I least looked for it, and your fate to help me whom you long pursued with evil purpose.’” Naturally, I like this line because of its reference to a larger purpose that is guiding the events of this story. But it also serves to show that Frodo trusts him out of necessity, not because he has thus far found him trustworthy. Even so, this change contributes to the character arc of Sméagol/Gollum in the film, in which he briefly tastes of a redemption he never fully realizes. I wonder if there might have been some way to mix these ideas, but what is present in the movie functions in the story well enough. Third, Frodo gives Gollum a warning that is not reflected in the movie after Gollum swears by his Precious. This is important for the characterization of Frodo and Gollum, as well as for foreshadowing the climax of the story:
It will hold you to it [Gollum’s oath on the Precious]; but it will seek a way to twist it to your own undoing. Already you are being twisted. You revealed yourself to me just now foolishly. Give it back to Sméagol you said. Do not say that again! Do not let that thought grow in you! You will never get it back. But the desire of it may betray you to a bitter end. You will never get it back. In the last need, Sméagol, I should put on the Precious; and the Precious mastered you long ago. If I, wearing it, were to command you, you would obey, even if it were to leap from a precipice or to cast yourself into the fire. And such would be my command. So have a care Sméagol! (IV/3)
The possible movie version would not have needed to be this long, but I think this scene could have been enhanced with a line conveying this foreshadowing, when Frodo says more than he knows, and these characters unwittingly bring Frodo’s words to pass. Of course, the movie also introduced a change in having Gollum’s oath on the Precious only at the beginning of his character arc in the movie in the Emyn Muil, so Jackson and co. could have moved an abridged version of this line to that new position. That new position of this dialogue would still make this foreshadowing effective in the storytelling, and it might serve all the better to highlight the power of providence, which, when meeting the corruption of these characters, has the appearance of tragic inevitability (on one level) and of ironic deliverance (on another level).
The Ent-draught Scene
One scene that is only present in the Extended Edition had minor significance to the book; namely, there is a scene of Merry and Pippin drinking the Ent-draught and growing taller because of it. The issue with moving this to the Extended Edition only is that it does not become part of the main plot and Merry and Pippin are not noticeably taller than Frodo and Sam by the end of the trilogy, unlike in the books, where they become the tallest Hobbits in the Shire. Because it is something that is supposed to change their appearance, I think the best approach is either to make the changes to the plot accordingly or to leave it out altogether. It would be like if you move a scene in which a character receives a scar only to the Extended Edition, and it does not affect the character’s appearance in the main plot at all.
Interestingly, this scene also features a Huorn almost killing Merry and Pippin. This is an adaptation of a scene from a chapter not adapted in FOTR featuring Old Man Willow almost killing Merry and Pippin. Interestingly, Treebeard is also given Tom Bombadil’s rebuke that saves Merry and Pippin. The placement here works to establish a differentiation between Ents like Treebeard and the Huorns. And this is important for setting up how the latter will participate in finishing the Battle of Helm’s Deep/the Hornburg in the Extended Edition (as is accurate to the book, as opposed to their omission in the theatrical version). While I obviously wish more was made of this scene in regard to what happened to Merry and Pippin (that is, that they were actually and clearly shown to be taller than Frodo and Sam), I must admit that this aspect of the scene was a creative adaptation choice (particularly, adaptation by transposition) to include material that is notoriously absent in FOTR in homage to a famous character from FOTR.
Edoras and the Golden Hall of Meduseld
When we go back to Rohan, Jackson and co. provide us with another interesting case of adaptation by transposition. In this case, the adaptation causes more significant change in the adapted scene. In the movie, Gríma Wormtongue is attempting to move in on Éowyn now that her uncle has been rendered impotent by Saruman’s enslaving will, her brother has been banished, and her cousin, Théodred, has died (it is left ambiguous in the movie, but behind the scenes Jackson says Gríma was secretly responsible). He hopes to exploit her isolation and her feeling of being alone for his own ends. In that spirit he says, “Who knows what you have spoken to the darkness in the bitter watches of the night, when all your life seems to shrink, the walls of your bower closing in about you, a hutch to trammel some wild thing in?” He then tries to compliment her beauty, “So fair, so cold, like a morning of pale spring still clinging to winter’s chill.” She is, after all, the only person in Rohan besides the accelerated-aged Théoden who can match Gríma in terms of paleness, but her appearance simply accentuates the “cold” aspects of her character that I have already noted. Indeed, though the line will not come up again, she is clinging to winter and will continue to do so until she finds a new way to live at the conclusion of her character arc (which is unfortunately not in the theatrical version, but I will get to that later). These words as a whole are indeed poisonous—as Éowyn says—but they also accurately reflect how Éowyn has come to see her life as a prison, a trap keeping her pent up and cut off from what she should be doing. As such, these words of Gríma’s insight feed her ever-narrowing view of her life just as her ever-narrowing view of life gives substance to Gríma’s statements so that they form a symbiotic relationship for potential corruption. In the books, this symbiotic relationship is implied, but it is Gandalf who says another version of this line to Éomer in ROTK (V/8) as he speaks of Éowyn’s reasons for riding to battle in secret and of all the frustrations that led up to that decision. (The compliment, on the other hand, is a description by the narration TT, not a line from any specific character.) The fact that this line became Gríma’s in the movie shows some of the creativity of Jackson and co. in turning the words of an insightful spectator into the actual poison of a participant who, like Gandalf, did understand Éowyn, but who sought to corrupt another for his own desire. The placement is also interesting. In the book this statement is closer to the end of her arc given in retrospect and further confirms what a reader might have surmised about Gríma’s activity and what Éowyn herself has indicated about how the only thing she fears is what her own life seems to be. In the movie this line is near the beginning of her arc and thus gives us a lens through which to see everything else that follows in her story. Her response to Gríma is also accurate to the fact that in both the movie and the book his words are poison to Théoden and now he is trying to turn them on her.
Although the previous scene is a mostly verbal representation of the struggle of Éowyn, the next scene is a visual representation of the same. She walks out to the entrance of Meduseld to see a flag of Rohan dangling in the wind, and she stares at it in sadness. She glances at the strange riders in the distance before she hears the flag tearing away from the pole and she gets one last look at it before it is carried away by the wind. (While the flag tearing away was planned by Jackson and co., the way the flag floats away is entirely due to the natural wind around Mount Sunday, which worked out remarkably well to capture that event on film). In that pitiful flag hanging on by a thread against the wind that ultimately tears it away, she sees her life. The kingdom that is her home is crumbling around her. It is decaying before her eyes even as her uncle is decaying. She feels alone against the seemingly inevitable destruction of everything she knows and loves, being powerless to thwart it. She does not know it yet, but the one in whom she will put her hope for something greater is among those strange riders approaching Edoras.
On that note, I want to comment on Edoras and Meduseld. These are among the best sets in the entire trilogy. Tolkien described them like they were straight out of Beowulf and the Norse culture that served as the setting for that story. Indeed, Rohan, the Rohirrim, their culture, their architecture, and their history are meant to be reflective of Beowulf and the Norse. And that is exactly the impression I get when I see how the filmmakers designed Edoras, Meduseld, and the appearances of the Rohirrim (the special features even note that the design of the helmets and other features were based on findings at Sutton Hoo). Edoras looks like you would expect an old Norse town with special accommodations given to horses to appear. Meduseld looks like a proper mead-hall, like Hrothgar’s Heorot from Beowulf might appear, which it was certainly meant to reflect. They also found an actual ideal location for it with Mount Sunday, a solitary prominent hill in the middle of a plain with what the movie presents as the White Mountains behind it. (The intricate work that was done in creating the extensive set on Mount Sunday also had to be matched by the intricate clean-up in order for them to preserve the place exactly as they found it.)
Gandalf’s confrontation with Théoden and with Saruman, who controls him, is more dramatic than in the book as it takes on more dramatized features of the kind of exorcism that is more common in movies. The book version of this scene is decidedly understated. Gandalf first rebukes the one who has whispered into Théoden’s ear until he is a quivering mess on the floor, then he gently extends an offer of counsel to Théoden if he will hear him, advising him to get up and take a look outside. Throughout this process, he empowers Théoden in contradistinction to the dependent state that Saruman through Gríma had put him in. If there is “magical power” at work, it is not immediately obvious. In contrast, the movie leaves no doubt about the magical nature of this scene as Saruman possesses Théoden and Gandalf forces him out. This scene also restores Théoden, but he undergoes a dramatic transformation in his appearance, since his initial appearance is also starkly different from the book version. I am honestly fine with either version of this scene, even if I slightly prefer the subtlety of the original. They accomplish the same purpose, even if the movie version fits the films’ tendency to attribute more action to and portray more action by Saruman. Indeed, Saruman having this kind of powerful influence from afar is set up by the scene from the previous movie in which Saruman can call down a storm on the Fellowship from afar.
Gríma’s Story
Hereafter, the movie makes several changes in regard to Gríma. After all, the story of the books is told from various perspectives of members of the Fellowship, usually Hobbits if they are present, but never from the standpoint of the chapter’s most important character or from the standpoint of an omniscient narrator (while the narrator sometimes indicates knowing more about the history of the world than the characters, Tolkien never makes any indication that he is an omniscient narrator, since the story is supposed to be reliant on the Red Book of Westmarch). As such, any scenes in the film not featuring one of the members of the Fellowship is a film-only invention. This is true as well for the rest of Gríma’s scenes in the movie after he departs Edoras. In the book, he does not arrive in Isengard until it is already submerged. But in the movie he arrives to be a more knowledgeable equivalent of Igor to Saruman’s Dr. Frankenstein. At least, that is the impression I get from the way their scenes are presented. But honestly, these scenes are fine. They are the kind of scenes that one might infer from the way the story unfolds.
In the scene in which Gríma leaves Edoras forever we also see Aragorn first taking up his role as advisor to Théoden. This is odd because this role is primarily played by Gandalf in the book and it is unclear to me why the change was made. Aragorn is more of a secondary advisor in the book as someone who is respected for his wisdom, but at this point in the story he tends to defer to Gandalf. Indeed, he takes over Gandalf’s role in this particular scene as he implores Théoden to have mercy on Gríma, albeit his reasoning is that enough blood has been spilled on his account rather than that this is the opportunity to test Gríma. However, afterwards Aragorn’s role as an advisor is practically negligible. In fact, every time between now and the climax of the movie when Aragorn attempts to counsel Théoden, Théoden rejects his counsel. This has the effect of making Théoden appear worse and less wise than he is in the book, but fortunately not to the extent that it ruins his character.
Théodred’s Funeral
The next noteworthy part covers a scene that is only in the Extended Edition and the subsequent scene that was in the theatrical version. First is Théodred’s funeral, which is a film-only invention. I wish this scene had been in the theatrical version, since it is not too long, but it adds a memorable emotional moment that also deepens the world ever so slightly as Éowyn sings a dirge in Rohirric for her beloved cousin (even with a line drawn from Beowulf in the first line she sings). Although, for some unknown reason, this dirge did not have subtitles; and so it may have been an unnecessary obstacle to the average film-goer if it was presented as is. Second is Théoden’s response to his son’s funeral, which was in the theatrical version. Again, this scene is film-only, but it incorporates a small element from the book of the simbelmynë, the flowers that bloom on the barrows of the Barrow-wights and of the Kings of Rohan before Edoras. But the overall point of the scene is to highlight the tragedy of Théoden’s recent history. He had been in Saruman’s thrall, and he was released from it only to find that his only child is dead and that his realm is facing a dire threat on its borders while it has been decaying from within. He has had to bury his son, which no father wants to do, but which many fathers in his time have had to do and which many fathers will yet do (Théoden’s line in this regard is actually something Bernard Hill incorporated from his own experience hearing those words from a mother who had to bury her own son). Although this scene is not in the book, it does well to reflect the atmosphere of the book.
Another film-only statement is Gandalf’s comfort to Théoden that Théodred’s spirit will find its way to the halls of his fathers. This is an interesting and properly vague reference to afterlife that foreshadows a line that Théoden himself will say about his own fate after death at the Battle of Pelennor Fields. It is another one of those brief tastes of theology that are rarer in the movies than in the books, but I like to see them and note them when they do appear.
A Small Plot Hole on the Way to a Decision
This is admittedly a minor point, but the changes the movie has made introduce a small plot hole into the scene when Théoden must decide what he will do to respond to the threat of Isengard. When Gandalf advises Théoden to fight Isengard in open war—as is the initial course of action in the book—in order to draw the war away from the women and children, Aragorn mentions that there are 2,000 good men riding north led by Éomer as they speak. How does he know this and Théoden does not? Éomer did not have 2,000 men with him when he met Aragorn. We are never given any indication that Aragorn got this information from scouts or messengers; so how does he know? Really, he shouldn’t. But he knows this because the filmmakers wanted to make the audience aware of this information in order to foreshadow the resolution of the coming battle. Sometimes the adaptation process just creates unintended consequences like the clumsiness of this small part of the storytelling. I have less reason to be upset about it in the case of the LOTR trilogy, where it is a more occasional slip-up, than I do in similar cases in The Hobbit films, where they are more frequent small parts of larger problems.
In any case, the change here also necessitates that Théoden skip the prospect of open war altogether and go straight to Helm’s Deep, whereas this was an option he took once it became clear that he could not meet Saruman’s forces in open war, and he retreated to Helm’s Deep. This fits the movie’s more cautious Théoden, as the movie highlights his regrets and his felt need to correct his recent mistakes with being more protective than proactive. In turn, this is necessitated by the decision to remove Erkenbrand from the screenplay and have Éomer come to the rescue at the end, which means Théoden is currently without sufficient force to even try open war.
Another Interlude at Isengard
When the scene switches to Isengard, in the Extended Edition at least, we get a couple of interesting additions. Saruman describes Gandalf as trying to humble him with his “newfound piety.” The phrasing is once again vague enough to raise curiosity. After all, “piety” is religious devotion; so who is it that Gandalf is devoted to that Saruman is not? While we get fewer hints of the recipient(s) of piety in the films than we do in the books, it is most likely that Saruman recognizes that Gandalf has received more power from Eru Ilúvatar because of his single-minded and sacrificial dedication to the mission the Valar gave to the Istari. While one might think that this sense of piety could be directed towards the Valar, the Istari are Ainur like the Valar, and they remember the One who ultimately created them and gave them leave to enter the world. Those who align with the Valar are ultimately devoted to Eru Ilúvatar and his will. I know this because I have read The Silmarillion, and it would have been too difficult to weave information like this into the original story or into the film versions without further explanation. The best one can hope for in both versions are suggestive hints (of which there are many in links to The Silmarillion in the books, as I have noted in this series).
Another interesting feature of this scene is when Gríma describes Aragorn—but not by name—to Saruman. He notes that Aragorn is a man from the North and that what he noticed most about him was his ring. Earlier, Aragorn had offered his hand to Gríma to kiss as a token of grace, which Gríma rejected by spitting at it. Since this short interaction was a setup for one that did not make the final cut of the theatrical version, it too was cut. In the Extended Edition, he describes the ring as one with two serpents with emerald eyes, one devouring and one crowned with golden flowers. Saruman confirms that this is the Ring of Barahir. This was the ring given by Finrod to Barahir when the latter saved his company from an onslaught of Orcs during the Dagor Bragollach. It became not only a sign of friendship between their houses, but it also specifically became an heirloom of the House of Barahir, which produced the Kings of Númenor (as well as the Lords of Andúnië) and the Kings of Gondor and Arnor after them. It is one of the identifying markers of this line of kings. While Saruman knows the ring and its lore, he denies that Aragorn could actually be Isildur’s Heir because he thinks that the line was broken long ago. This is another kind of scene that fits perfectly in the Extended Edition in which it is currently featured. It deepens the lore of this world but does not ultimately contribute anything especially new to the plot or to characterization.
The Shieldmaiden of Rohan
The movie has many more scenes featuring Éowyn and Aragorn than the book has. While the book makes clear that Éowyn is attracted to Aragorn, the movie accentuates the pseudo-romantic subplot. I say “pseudo-romantic” because there is not a real possibility that Aragorn will reciprocate (and I should note that Aragorn’s reaction to necessarily spurning Éowyn’s entreaties is more mournful than in the movies). For that reason, one particularly clueless online reviewer I read was wrong in that she was never “dumped” for Arwen because Aragorn never thought of her in that way (indeed, there is no love triangle in these movies). I have already commented on how I thought Jackson and co. could have deepened the romantic dynamic between Aragorn and Arwen and I will have occasion for saying more, but that dynamic is never there in the case of these two characters (at least, not from Aragorn’s perspective). Éowyn admires him as if he is transcendent. In the Extended Edition their first conversation takes place in a stable as she sees him calm the horse Brego by speaking Elvish to him. She is obviously impressed by this, but it is not initially clear that she has any particular affection for Aragorn until their next scene. She is practicing with a sword until Aragorn interrupts her and notes that she is skilled with a blade. She hints that she learned to swordfight out of necessity, since the women of her country have learned that those without swords can still die upon them. She does not fear death or pain. When Aragorn asks her what she fears, Éowyn says one of her definitive lines from the books (albeit from ROTK), “A cage. To stay behind bars, until use and old age accept them, and all chance of doing great deeds is gone beyond recall or desire” (V/2). This is exactly the fear that Gríma attempted to manipulate against her. In contrast, Aragorn comforts her with a line that is not in the book, “You are a daughter of kings, a shieldmaiden of Rohan. I do not think that will be your fate.” One thus sees here the seeds planted for her infatuation. Not only is Aragorn a man of a quality that transcends her own realm, but he has also learned of her deepest fear and spoke comfort to her with the words of one she knows is knowledgeable and wise, rather than one who is vainly trying to assuage with empty platitudes.
Sméagol’s Taste of Freedom
Now it’s time to go back to the other main storyline. I think it was with this scene that I first noticed that Sam was even more adversarial towards Gollum than in the book, and they certainly did not get along in the book. It is clear in the book that Sam does not like or trust Gollum—he even gives the names Slinker and Stinker to his split personalities—but he tries to tolerate him for Frodo’s sake. In the movie he simply calls him Stinker and tries to justify to Frodo why he runs him down all of the time, thinking him irredeemable. This isn’t necessarily a bad change; in fact, I think it could have paid off well if ROTK had followed the story more faithfully, but I will have plenty to say about that later.
Another noteworthy aspect of this scene is how it illustrates Frodo’s slow corruption by the Ring. I appreciate that this process wasn’t backloaded to have Frodo exhibit all of these qualities only in ROTK, as easily could have happened. Instead, Frodo begins with suddenly snapping at Sam, telling him he knows nothing about Sméagol’s possibility for redemption or about the Ring. Sam tells him that he said what he said because of the Ring and he tries to encourage him to fight it, lest it consume him like it did Sméagol. Frodo snaps back that he knows what he has to do because it is his task, “It’s my task! Mine! My own!” As Frodo walks away, shaken by the conversation, Sam asks him if he realizes who he sounds like. Although this particular scene is not in the book, it is a faithful illustration of the state of affairs at this point in the book. Frodo is not yet at the point that he becomes possessive of the Ring itself or has a transformed appearance when he is overcome with desire for it, like Bilbo has shown, but he is on his way. Frodo is a strong Hobbit, but the Ring has an almost inexorable power to wear down the will of its bearer as it seeks to return to Sauron, especially as the Ring gets closer to Mordor (and indeed becomes practically inexorable in the Sammath Naur).
This scene is then followed by one that crystallizes and externalizes Sméagol’s internal struggle. I am a big fan of this scene. It conveys in dialogue more than any other dialogue in the book that there is a part of Sméagol’s mind that wants to be free of the Ring and that wants to be good and to do right by others. Probably no other scene in the movie communicates how painfully close Sméagol comes to redemption. He tries to commit a sort of self-exorcism as he says he no longer needs Gollum because Master looks after him. He no longer needs to be enslaved to his past, as Gollum would have him be, and he no longer needs to be defined as a liar, thief, and murderer. Sméagol sees a way to freedom and tries to take it. This scene wonderfully portrays the drama of personal redemption. Sméagol’s moment of celebration over his freedom could well reflect many similar breakthrough moments of the repentant or of recovering addicts. Subsequent scenes will also portray well how potentially fragile such moments can be in the long-term if they are not reinforced. This moment is all the more bittersweet for how brief it is. On the other hand, it also makes me think of what could have been, but I will have to address that later.
PO-TAY-TOES and Oliphaunts
The next scene represents the chapter “Of Herbs and Stewed Rabbit”—from which the famous “PO-TAY-TOES!” line was taken—and it does so well enough in an appropriately condensed fashion, particularly with the interaction of Sam and Gollum. There is a moment here when Sam and Frodo behold the titanic creature that they know as an Oliphaunt (but which the Rangers of Ithilien refer to as a Mûmak). For some reason, and Astin jokes about this in the commentary, Jackson and co. decided to put two Oliphaunts in this scene, when the line, inspired by the book, refers to just one. Although Sam does not recite the poem that goes along with that name, as he does in a previous chapter in the book (IV/3), the wonder of beholding this creature is still palpable. Sam then says a line only slightly altered from the book, “No one at home will believe this.” In both cases, it is a throwaway line with deceptive significance (even more so in the book when he says, “Well, if that’s over, I’ll have a bit of sleep”). Despite the perils of this quest and the apparent hopelessness of their endeavor, Sam shows that he still subconsciously expects to return home with quite a story to tell. The line also shows that he still treats this quest like an adventure with all of the wonder at the outside world entailed in such a description.
Faramir
At this point we are introduced to Faramir, played by David Wenham. I admittedly have mixed feelings on the adaptation of this character, though I am not as negative as others. Unfortunately, due to many other adaptation decisions made with varying degrees of justifiability, Faramir gets much fewer attempts to show his quality compared to the book. Faramir is wiser and less foolhardy than his brother (although not necessarily less valiant). They are both leaders and great warriors, but of different types. But because the movie spends less time on those contrasts outside of showing them through their father Denethor’s eyes, we do not get a proper sense of who Faramir should be (by the books) in these movies (with one exception that I will mention below, which is all too rare). We know that he is a faithful and dutiful son who wants to please his father and that he has some manner of insight, but we do not get the sense that he is as wise and learned as his book counterpart. He is even described—like his book counterpart—as a Wizard’s pupil, but we never get the sense in the movies that he was. The most significant changes to his character are a result of certain other decisions in the adaptation process. It was chronologically accurate to hold off the episode in Shelob’s Lair until the third movie, even if it meant contradicting its placement within the narrative flow of the book (of course, if one really wants to get pedantic about chronology, Frodo and Sam’s story in this movie would need to end much sooner, around the time they reached the Black Gate). But in pushing that event to the next movie, this movie would be left without an antagonist or major obstacle for Frodo and Sam to face by the end of this episode, since Gollum will still be with them. Hence, the decision was made to make Faramir more hostile and to have him serve as the major obstacle in this leg of the journey, instead of the hospitable ally he proved to be in the book. Boyens insisted that the changes also helped show the power of the Ring more effectively, because she felt that Faramir refusing the Ring undermined its power. That argument does not really work when you consider that Aragorn, for whom she wrote a scene that had to be added in the previous movie—that is, it was not something from the book—has directly refused the Ring in the movies, and Faramir’s refusal could have told us that he was a man like Aragorn. I will address particular scenes later, but it is enough to say at this point that I think these decisions did not work out well for Faramir as a character in this movie relative to book Faramir. He is by no means terrible, especially since he works in the context of the movies, but he pales in comparison to his book counterpart, especially in the theatrical version.
That last note may hint that Faramir fares better in the Extended Edition and that is because I think he does. Faramir’s introduction captures how he is supposed to be—in idea at least—the character most reflective of Tolkien himself (see Letter #180) in his thoughts about war, if nothing else. Although the line through which we first get a glimpse of his character was originally a thought of Sam’s about his first view of a battle of Men against Men (IV/4), it works well in the mouth of a character reflecting Tolkien’s own experience in WW1: “His sense of duty was no less than yours, I deem. You wonder what his name was, where he came from, and if he was really evil at heart. What lies or threats led him on this long march from home. If he would not rather have stayed there in peace.” As far as I am concerned, this is something that should have been in the theatrical version. Although the movie has not revealed yet that this is Boromir’s brother, this conscientious and meditative quality, as well as his orientation to war, immediately sets him in contrast to Boromir. He is a skilled warrior who can be matched by few, but he does not seek glory in war; he only acknowledges its necessity in such dark times as he lives. Nor are his enemies faceless abstractions to him; instead, he sees them as much like himself, quite possibly thrown into war against their wishes. This was an insight into the character that is not reinforced enough and was certainly needed in the initial version of the film, as it is more of a characterization necessity than a bonus.
The Road to Helm’s Deep
When the scene shifts back to the story of Aragorn and his friends traveling with the Rohirrim to Helm’s Deep, we get a scene that is film-only, but represents another case of creative fidelity. As a needed bit of levity, Gimli tries to clear things up to Éowyn about Dwarf women. He says they are so alike in voice and appearance that they are often mistaken for Dwarf men (which Aragorn whisperingly clarifies, “It’s the beards”). This is has thus given rise to the notion that there are no Dwarf women and that Dwarves spring out of holes in the ground. There is no corresponding scene to this in the book, but it is, in fact, taken from the book. Near the end of Appendix A.III (on “Durin’s Folk”), Tolkien notes that Dis, daughter of Thráin II is the only Dwarf woman referenced in these tales and the explanation he gives for this—in addition to them not venturing out much—matches what Gimli tells Éowyn (though there it says “grow out of stone” rather than springing out of holes in the ground). Tolkien himself does not specify that it was the beards that helped cause confusion, but this is a clear enough inference from the fact that they resemble men in appearance and Dwarf men are regularly described as having beards. The addition of Aragorn’s line clarifying this is clearly meant as a comedic insertion to accentuate the levity, and perhaps to imply that Gimli would not be so impolite as to make explicit note of that feature (hence why Aragorn whispers).
What follows this is a scene that I think was properly in the Extended Edition. In a slightly comical scene when Éowyn brings Aragorn some bad stew, she also asks him about a strange thing she heard from Théoden. He said Aragorn rode to war with her grandfather Thengel. Aragorn says he remembers well, considering that Théoden was only a boy. Aragorn then admits to Éowyn that he is actually eighty-seven, at which point she deduces that he is one of the Dúnedain, blessed with long life. This is an interesting bit of information drawn from the deeper lore of Middle-earth that deepens the world but does not add to the plot. Thus, it is properly fit for the Extended Edition.
Dreams and Memories
Another scene that is film-only that I am glad was added is the scene in which Aragorn dreams of Arwen. Arwen counsels him during this dream as Aragorn continues to deny his rightful destiny to become the King of Gondor (and Arnor, though that is not emphasized in the movie for fairly obvious reasons). He claims his path is hidden from him, but she reminds him that it is already laid before him; he cannot falter and deny it now. She finishes by assuring him to trust in them, in their love, if he cannot trust anything else. This dream shows that Arwen’s connection to Aragorn is in some ways like a guiding angel. She is not so much revealing new information to him as reaffirming what he already knows to be true, even if he does not wish to acknowledge it. She is his rock in the storm that is this current Age; he can trust her even when he cannot trust himself. He knows better than not to trust her now. The next scene will confirm what was hinted in the first movie: that he tried to break off their relationship for her sake, but she believed in them, she stayed true to the course, even when Aragorn was doubtful and wished something else for her.
Elrond’s objection to the relationship in the movie is different from the challenge he poses to Aragorn in the book. Elrond’s challenge to Aragorn is that Arwen would only marry him if he became the King of Gondor and Arnor (in other words, if he became who he was born to be). As such, Aragorn’s character arc, journey, and purpose in regard to his rightful kingship are intricately linked with his relationship with Arwen. In the movie Elrond’s objection that he will not leave her in Middle-earth to die because she belongs with her immortal people—while completely understandable and sensible for the character to say—makes the connection between these two aspects of Aragorn’s story less interwoven at this point. This is further reinforced by how Aragorn’s character arc has changed in the movie in that he spends most of his time in denial of his purpose until ROTK. When Elrond escorts Arwen to Minas Tirith in ROTK to give his blessing on their union, he is not so much fulfilling a promise as acquiescing to his daughter’s unyielding perseverance. In isolation, I think either motive is fine, but the result in the movie lacks that intricacy of the original story and character arcs, at least for Aragorn, as for Arwen it is clear that she would have him realize his purpose. Even so, I think this scene helped deepen the romance in that it highlighted Arwen’s choice. Although she knows she must give up immortality to be with Aragorn, she remains steadfast in her commitment, against the objections of her lover and her father. Even though Aragorn expects her father to convince her to sail to the Undying Lands, as he indicates in his dialogue with Éowyn, it is Arwen who will, ultimately, hold their relationship together for the rest of his life and ensure that he comes into his own, albeit by a more circuitous route than in the books.
The Warg Riders
The next scene is a film-only battle with the Warg riders on the way to Helm’s Deep. The scene is designed for a few purposes. First, it shows the conclusion of Saruman’s order to send out the Warg riders to attack the vulnerable travelers, thereby further showing the means Saruman is willing to use for his ends. Second, it serves to separate Aragorn from the rest of the group so that he can be the one who spots the army of 10,000 Uruk-hai marching on Helm’s Deep. Third, it exists simply to be an extended action scene that the movie has not had in a while. Fourth, and most insignificantly, it serves to kill off Háma—the doorward of Meduseld—in order for his son to be drafted into the coming battle. In principle, I do not have a problem with the first and third purposes and the scene serves them well enough. The fourth purpose creates a difference from the book, wherein Háma dies defending the gates of Helm’s Deep, but it is not like this is a major character, and I doubt there were hordes of Háma fans that kicked up much of a fuss about it.
It is the second purpose that I have a major problem with because it is completely unnecessary. Walsh’s defense that this fake-out gives the whole Warg attack a point is an ouroboros of a claim, as the Warg attack was something she and the other writers inserted in the first place, and so it is a problem of their own making. They could have just as well made the point of the scene, besides illustrating Saruman’s ruthlessness, to be about how their forces are diminished, which subsequent scenes reinforce, thus necessitating the draft later in the story. In any case, it did not need to be Aragorn who saw the army. Jackson and co. have attempted to defend the decision of the death fake-out on the basis of how it leads into Aragorn seeing the army, but they never explained why it needed to be Aragorn. It was never in question that he was going to stand and fight with them no matter the odds, so it is not as if it is especially significant that he sees the army himself, any more than he will need to see the armies that come against Minas Tirith before he joins the battle. They like to think it is integral to the movie simply because they do not seem to have considered another option. In the book, it is none of the Three Hunters who first sees the army in all its strength, but if the moviemakers think it needed to be one of the prominent characters, why could it not have been Legolas, for example? As the movie has already established, his “Elf eyes” can see clearer over longer distances, so he could have even been sent out as a scout after the battle with the Warg riders to see if any other force may be coming.
I once criticized this scene for being completely unconvincing as a death fake-out, but it is difficult to make that stick as an actual problem as I used to think. Sure, no one who read the book was going to buy this fake-out, but this criticism would also render invalid any attempts by filmmakers to build suspense in addition to what their source material provides, or even to reiterate suspense from the source material (after all, you already read it, so you know what is going to happen, right?). Sure, anyone who saw any of the trailers that featured multiple scenes with Aragorn that had not happened yet was not going to buy this fake-out either, but by that logic trailers ought not to be made at all or only made so brief as to reveal nothing about the movies they represent samples of. And that is to say nothing of the phenomenon when scenes are included in the trailers that are not in the final cut of the movie. The movie’s script and the scenes shot from it are accountable to their internal logic, not any trailers made after the fact (or video games for that matter, since The Two Towers video game also “spoiled” this). Nothing is logically offensive about this fake-out within the context of the movie, but I cannot justify it as a good adaptation choice, and it all seems rather extraneous to Aragorn’s story because it is. But outside of the internal logic of the script, what makes this decision worse is that this alteration to the story required shooting a scene of Aragorn floating down a river, which led to Viggo Mortensen getting dragged underwater for several seconds and almost drowning. This was not the first or last time that Mortensen and the other actors in LOTR risked their health in one way or another to film a scene. But the degree of danger here makes the completely gratuitous nature of this decision to change the story all the worse. He never would have been put in that situation if not for this pointless change.
Helm’s Deep
Fortunately, a better representation of this film’s adaptation quality follows this fake-out. Helm’s Deep—the main name given to the Hornburg within it in this movie—is one the two best sets in this movie. Between the miniatures, the full-size sets, and the use of CGI when appropriate, this setting is brought to life brilliantly. Minus the caves, it looks exactly like it should: it is a fairly simple fortress that appears to be formed out of and into the mountain (to some extent, it literally is). It appears as stalwart as the rock from which it is formed, but it also represents a last-ditch effort of defense. Even though it cannot be surrounded, it is difficult to escape if the fortress is overthrown.
The Uruk-hai
The next scene contains one of the most memorable visuals of this movie and—as with all Saruman scenes in this movie—it is film-only. Saruman finally reveals the army that he has constructed—literally—for the destruction of Rohan, an army of 10,000 Uruk-hai. The spectacle is certainly impressive (made even more so by the sound editing using a recording of a cricket crowd in New Zealand doing the Uruk chants), but what makes it even more impressive is how it is overlaid with the speech of Saruman in Christopher Lee’s booming voice: “A new power is rising. Its victory is at hand. This night, the land will be stained with the blood of Rohan! March to Helm’s Deep! Leave none alive! To war! There will be no dawn for Men.” With that speech, Saruman forms an inclusio with his first monologue in the movie. He has now revealed in full the instrument by which he hopes to manipulate the changing of the world according to his will. Indeed, Saruman believes he can reshape the world in his own image according to his will to power, but he will be defeated by the combination of the valor of Men (which he has underestimated), the fidelity of his enemies to one another (which he thought he had broken), the forces of nature (which he thought he could exploit without consequence), and the providence that binds them all together (which he had disregarded). For a scene that never appeared in the book, it remains quite faithful to the characterization and character arc of Saruman.
Arwen and Elrond
The next two features I want to note about this movie are both subtle theological notes that are not actually in the book, but still capture the spirit of it with such statements. First, Arwen wishes for the grace of the Valar to protect Aragorn. The movies obviously do not explain who the Valar are, but remarks like these are enough to indicate to the otherwise uninformed viewer that the Valar are gods or some other kind of higher beings. Their role has been hinted at elsewhere, but now they are directly referenced.
Second, Elrond reminds Arwen of the inevitability of Aragorn’s mortality, whether he dies by the sword or by the slow decay of time. If everything she wants to happen comes true, at best he will grow old and die as “an image of the splendour of the Kings of Men in glory undimmed before the breaking of the world.” This line is not only taken from the books (specifically from near the end of the tale of Aragorn and Arwen in Appendix A), but as there it is also a hint towards eschatology that is never fully developed in Tolkien’s main series. Reference is made to the Second Music, the remaking of the world, the final destruction of Melkor, and so on. But there is never a fully developed picture. Even in the History of Middle-earth series, Tolkien’s drafts only provide more expansive notes on some feature or another of the eschaton. Elrond is thus appropriately vague on this point. But his remark is nevertheless eschatologically suggestive.
Indeed, while this whole sequence of Elrond trying to talk Arwen into leaving Middle-earth is film-only, and conflicts with the books before coming to the same conclusion, it is notable that material from the books is used here. The visual of Aragorn dead in old age leaving Arwen widowed, along with the aforementioned line, is taken from Appendix A and the story of Aragorn and Arwen featured there. So too is the fact that Arwen spends the rest of her mortal life wandering in the woods (specifically, of Lórien) in winter. She ultimately laid herself on Cerin Amroth, where she and Aragorn were engaged, and dies, though this is not shown in the movie. Nevertheless, their use of this material from the book is creative, and it is quite effective—not only for the purposes of this conversation, but more generally for the story—to show and not simply tell of this consequence of Arwen’s choice, the inevitable tragedy of mortality, and to let the audience know that, even in the best scenario, this is what awaits her (although there is more to the vision that the next movie will show).
Galadriel and Elrond
Elrond and Galadriel then engage in a film-only conversation about the fate of Middle-earth. Or rather, Galadriel talks and Elrond listens. She talks about how precarious and dire the situation in Middle-earth now is with Frodo’s growing weakness and his circumstance of being at the mercy of Faramir’s will. She then suggests that both she and Elrond have foreseen that the Quest will claim his life. This is obviously here to put the conclusion of this story in doubt and create suspense, but the only way it makes sense to be included here, since there is otherwise dissonance between the foresight and the conclusion, is if “claim his life” is meant to be ambiguous rather than being an idiom for death. But this phrasing seems chosen precisely to imply his death. Otherwise, in what sense does she mean it if she is not actually wrong about it? That he will not be able to go back to the life he once had? That he will need to give everything up in order to save it? These points are communicated well enough in ROTK in probably its most tear-inducing scene, but this statement from Galadriel is much more obscure, if it is not simply wrong, for how it uses a line in such an unintuitive way. However one interprets this line—in line with its intuitive sense or against it—I think the bottom line is that it creates too many problems by its inclusion in the movie and it would have been best to avoid using it altogether. I will address the other point of this monologue—which is to pose the question of if the Elves will leave Middle-earth to its apparent fate—later.
The Window on the West
For now, it is important to note another example of creative fidelity. The scene in which Faramir and Madril talk about the news from their scouts over a map serves as a helpful orientation for the audience. We get a rough idea of where things are in relation to each other, which the book accomplished with maps in the front matter, which have to be provided visually here. At the same time, the scene also serves as a reminder that Gondor is not ignorant of Rohan’s problems, but they have enough of their own.
Faramir’s interrogation of the Hobbits in the next scene is more or less by the book (albeit not in exact wording), but what I find more interesting is the scene from the Extended Edition as Faramir flashes back to the battle that could be considered the beginning of the War of the Ring. Although the book version of this battle at Osgiliath (not recounted in the equivalent chapter) was a victory for Gondor by the skin of their teeth, in which both Boromir and Faramir barely survived, the impression in the movie is more triumphant, which could simply be because of the need for lifting the soldier’s spirits and celebrating victories where they get them. It seems as if, but it is not explicitly said, they have retaken the whole city, albeit briefly, whereas in the book they had won the western half of the city after destroying the last bridge. The changes in accent on presenting this event work well, as it gives Faramir a fond recent memory of his brother. It makes the tragedy all the more poignant when this becomes the last time he sees his brother alive. The progression of events is rather different in the movie, as Boromir departs almost immediately after the victory celebration, whereas the books indicate around two weeks elapsed. I think it is also appropriate for the movie to place the memory of this battle here instead of in the Council of Elrond, where it was in the book, for reasons already stated. It also works as Faramir’s last good memory of Boromir before seeing his dead body float down the river in a boat (which happened in the book as well).
The ultimate purpose of the inclusion of this memory is to illustrate the relationship of Faramir with Boromir and of both of these sons with their father, Denethor. As such, this scene also shows why Faramir does what he does with Frodo, as he seeks to do Denethor’s will in order to have his approval. In Denethor’s words, Faramir seeks a chance to show his quality. Boromir, as the loving older brother, tries to share praise with Faramir, but Denethor is intent on running him down for being a disappointment. This is an easily understandable dynamic between the characters that also has layers to it, which is one reason why I am not as negative about Faramir in the movies as some people are, though I do not want to get into detail on all that here to avoid too long of a sidetrack. But I still should acknowledge that the writers focusing as they did on this dynamic ultimately led to the changes in this movie whereby Faramir is mor strongly concerned with pleasing his father. I should also note that I have mixed feelings about the changes to Denethor’s character, which I will save for the next movie (since that is when he was introduced in the theatrical version, and this is his only scene in the Extended Edition).
By the way, this is a really minor note, but I noticed that in this scene Denethor says that Elrond has called a meeting. As I made a point to note earlier, the book distinctly says that Elrond did not summon the members of the Council to come to Rivendell. All of them went there for their own purposes, all of them feeling a call to go there for counsel and/or aid, but none of them were summoned there by Elrond. The movie version in FOTR is more ambiguous on this point, but the Extended Edition of TT shows that the idea was that Elrond summoned the Council. For reasons I have already stated, I do not think this was the right decision, so I will not dwell on it further.
The Forbidden Pool
After the episode at the Forbidden Pool—which I wish they had explained better was forbidden because it is near their current hideout of Henneth Annûn—Faramir and his rangers interrogate Sméagol to find out where he is leading the Hobbits. This scene thus becomes the setting for the relapse in Sméagol’s story of redemption. He is by himself in a hostile setting, put there—so he assumes—by the betrayal of his Master, the only one he trusted. This provides the golden opportunity for his past in the form of his alternate personality Gollum to reassert itself and reestablish its dominance over his life. I think this scene works well in how it portrays this scene that often happens within the drama of redemption—fictional and non-fictional—but there is a problem that is not in the scene itself. Namely, this scene represents a short-circuiting of Gollum’s redemption arc. He does not come close to redemption again in the next movie because of a scene that Jackson and co. decided to change and so it seems like one of the more compelling aspects of Gollum’s story is finished well before it is finished in the book.
Another change from the book comes with Faramir’s temptation to take the Ring. Because Faramir has been presented as a more hostile character, he is portrayed as someone who is more severely tempted to take the Ring, as someone who may well repeat his brother’s mistakes. Indeed, Faramir repeats his father’s line (in the Extended Edition) that the decision regarding the Ring gives him a chance to show his quality. Although both the movie and the book note that Boromir was driven mad by desire for the Ring, the movie does not present this information until later, at almost the last possible second for Sam to say something. In the book Sam notes this before inadvertently revealing the purpose of his and Frodo’s journey and with it the existence of the Ring. Faramir says much the same in both versions of the story to signify his temptation in the context of his advantageous situation. However, in the book Faramir has a definite moment of decision in which he denies the temptation:
We are truth-speakers, we men of Gondor. We boast seldom, and then perform, or die in the attempt. Not if I found it on the highway would I take it I said. Even if I were such a man as to desire this thing, and even though I knew not clearly what this thing was when I spoke, still I should take those words as a vow, and be held by them.
But I am not such a man. Or I am wise enough to know that there are some perils from which a man must flee. Sit at peace! And be comforted, Samwise. If you seem to have stumbled, think that it was fated to be so. Your heart is shrewd as well as faithful, and saw clearer than your eyes. For strange though it may seem, it was safe to declare this to me. It may even help the master that you love. It shall turn to his good, if it is in my power. (IV/5)
Obviously, the dialogue would have needed to be altered anyway, since Faramir never said his quoted line in the film. However, this would have been the prime opportunity to show the difference between Faramir and Boromir, beyond the fact that one is a disappointment to his father. When Faramir lets Frodo and Sam go later on, it is less illustrative of a basic character difference between the brothers than it is an acknowledgment that one is learning from the mistakes of the other in the context of the movies. To be fair, that can be an effective means of characterization as well, but it feels more like it is tacked on to make up for the weaknesses of Faramir’s characterization to that point in the movie. Furthermore, when Faramir lets them go, he is not in nearly as advantageous a situation as in this scene, being in the midst of a battle and having already seen at least one Nazgûl attack. The book is more effective on this point because Faramir has Frodo and Sam completely at his mercy, yet he decides to act for their benefit, rightly perceiving that he should not desire this Ring. Faramir does indeed show his quality much more clearly in the book version than in the film version.
Let Them Come
When the movie transitions back to the other main story, we get several film-only sequences. As some of these are the results of the change in Aragorn’s plotline, which I have already commented on, I will not dwell on them here. One that is worth commenting on is the arguments that Aragorn and Gimli have with Théoden. I understand that they function to build up the significance of the threat of this Uruk-hai army, but within the story they do not really make sense. What does Gimli hope to accomplish by telling Théoden that the Uruk-hai are more dangerous than regular Orcs? Does he want him to despair? Does he want him to be humbler, albeit for no apparent reason? It could be that he wants Théoden to follow Aragorn’s counsel, but it is not entirely clear that he knows what Aragorn would counsel. Admittedly, this is nitpicking, but I think the next point is more significant. Aragorn tries to persuade Théoden to send out riders to call for aid. When Aragorn specifically suggests Gondor, Théoden responds angrily that they have not sent any help so far, despite Rohan’s need. Again, I understand the function of this argument in the context of the trilogy. This is setting up a potential obstacle to the climactic battle, as Théoden is indicating that he holds a grudge against Gondor for not helping him, and thus there is a chance that he will not help them when they need him. It is supposed to add suspense for the next movie. This personal conflict has no book counterpart, in part because it does not make sense (and in part because the way the battle happens does not leave a lot of time for preparation). Did Théoden forget that he had been in Saruman’s thrall and thus would not have sent requests for aid to Gondor? If Gondor did not reject a request for aid that he never sent, why should he be angry at them? Does he not think that Gondor has its own problems, being near the Enemy’s doorstep, and thus would not necessarily be fully attentive to Rohan’s problems? He could have simply said that there is no time to send riders to Gondor. The way the movie has it, Théoden simply looks worse for having this argument with Aragorn. It does not help anything, and it only hurts Théoden’s characterization.
Entmoot
Speaking of things that hurt characterization and create unnecessary false suspense, it is now time to say something about the movie’s version of the Entmoot. I do not particularly mind that Merry and Pippin do not have the side conversation with Quickbeam during this scene, since Quickbeam is not strictly necessary to the plot. What I do have a problem with is having the Ents directly contradict their verdict in the book. I understand that the function of this change is for all of the storylines to reach their lowest point in the movie more or less simultaneously, and much like with Arwen’s decision, Faramir’s temptation, and several other changes, the same conclusion is reached by different paths. However, it should be noted that the decision to not intervene in the movie’s version of the Entmoot portrays the Ents as ignorant compared to their book counterparts. After all, what changes their minds in the movie is finally seeing the devastation on the border of the forest due to Saruman’s desire to build his war machine, no matter the cost. Apparently, all of the movie Ents were supposed to have not known about this. The book Ents knew about this already, and it was essential to their decision. Although they were inclined to non-intervention and to attend to their own affairs, they realized that they could not leave the War alone because it would not leave them alone. This motivated their quick decision—relatively speaking for an Entmoot—to attack Isengard before Saruman did any more damage to Fangorn Forest. In the movie, this decision is a quick reversal of an ignorant ruling, based on the desire for revenge. Tolkien wrote this aspect of his story the way that he did in order to illustrate the nature of this war—and of such large-scale wars in general, as he had witnessed himself twice—and to reinforce other important messages of his, such as the threat of destruction against those who destroy nature for the purposes of modern technology and war-making. His storytelling is undermined when the initial appeal by Merry—based on the same kind of logic—gets ignored. The ultimate conclusion of these two versions of the plotline is the same, but the movie version is needlessly diverting, muddled, and less compelling.
To the Caves
Although many scenes from the book are deferred to the adaptation of ROTK, Éowyn’s arc presents some interesting exceptions in that they transpose scenes from ROTK to the present movie. I have already commented on one important occasion above. Another appears in the Extended Edition when Éowyn, along with the other women and children, is being taken to the caves for refuge during the coming battle (she does not go there in the book because she does not go to Helm’s Deep). From the same scene as the aforementioned statements by Éowyn, she scoffs at Aragorn’s suggestion that she stay with her people rather than go to battle:
“Shall I always be left behind when the Riders depart, to mind the house while they win renown, and find food and beds when they return?”
“A time may come soon,” said he, “when none will return. Then there will be need of valour without renown, for none shall remember the deeds that are done in the last defence of your homes. Yet the deeds will not be less valiant because they are unpraised.” (V/2)
Since the setting of these lines is different, they are obviously changed in the movie, but the thrust of the dialogue and most of the wording is preserved. Another line that is mostly preserved is Éowyn’s final appeal (apart from simple begging in the book), “They [Aragorn’s companions] go only because they would not be parted from thee—because they love thee.” In both scenes, some version of this line is the point at which Éowyn more directly hints to Aragorn that she is in love with him, even though her infatuation is misguided. Although the lines are mostly preserved from the book, I am not sure that I agree with this particular transposition. I rather like it better where it was in the theatrical version, which was the same as its placement in the book: right before Aragorn leaves for the Paths of the Dead and Éowyn tries to stop him or let her ride with him. The way it is placed in the Extended Edition, Aragorn lets this revelation simmer before he directly addresses it and tells her that he cannot return her love. It almost gives the impression that he is leading her on, at least by not addressing this attraction at the first clear sign. It is unintentional, as there is no design of making a love triangle, but in this version that seems to be what he is doing nonetheless.
The next scene leads us into the Glittering Caves of Aglarond, or at least that is what the setting is supposed to be. There is some glitter to them, but I must say they are rather underwhelming for the caves book Gimli praised so highly as an irresistible beauty that he insisted Legolas needed to see. I guess it helps that Gimli does not end up in these caves in this version of the battle. The film also does not spend much time here and so it is clearly not designed to be one of the most impressive sets. Interestingly, a scene taking place here was deleted and never included in the Extended Edition. It featured Éowyn fighting off the straggling Uruk-hai who came to attack the women and children. I am glad that they decided not to include this scene. I say that not so much because it is not in the book, but because it would short-circuit her character arc and she would already have had the resolution to her desire to fight in a much less impressive fashion than the actual resolution in ROTK. Sometimes delayed satisfaction is the best satisfaction, especially when it comports with Tolkien’s storytelling.
The Draft
Although I was not impressed by the setting, I think rather differently about the scene that is set here in both the theatrical version and the Extended Edition. Unlike in the book, there is a draft that takes place at Helm’s Deep to replenish the numbers that were lost in the battle with the Warg riders, as well as to get as many defenders for the fort as they can before the Uruk-hai arrive. We see a bunch of old men parted from their families and lads parted from their weeping mothers in an emotional scene that is rather short but effective. This scene works well to show the desperation of the defense and to illustrate the awareness of inevitable tragedy written on many of the faces herein. These women and children fully expect that they could well never see their fathers, husbands, sons, and brothers again. They are not soldiers; they are simply bodies given weapons, the human cost for waging battle with impoverished forces. They are frail Men likely to see their lives cut short, whether in old age or before the spring of youth. And the truth is, when you think about it, almost all of the old men and lads do, in fact, die in this defense. Presumably, that includes Háleth, son of the late Háma, whom Aragorn talks with prior to the battle in order to reassure him that there is hope of victory. When you see the conclusion of the battle with the small number of defenders who ride out with Théoden, you are forced to conclude that almost all of those old men and lads died. This is one of the most understatedly dark parts of this trilogy. What is also understated is how each of them, despite their lack of prowess, contributed enough to the defense to ensure that it would last the night so that hope could arrive in the morning. Jackson and co. have thus utilized well a notion that was never reflected in the book to add further emotional weight to this battle.
One other aspect of this sequence that is noteworthy is Aragorn’s role. Legolas vocally undermines the capabilities of these drafted defenders of Helm’s Deep, although he at least has the sense to switch to Sindarin once he realizes that everyone in the room heard him. He insists that they have no hope, that all these defenders are going to die. Presumably, Legolas just wants to leave these people to their deaths, but we are not told what exactly he would prefer instead; he has simply given over to despair about their prospects. But Aragorn rebuffs him by saying that he will die as one of them. This is enough to eventually snap Legolas out of his despair and remember that Aragorn has shown his quality as a leader, and he would be no friend if he were to undercut or abandon him now. This scene and the one with Háleth show a side of Aragorn that we do not get to see enough of in the movies, at least until the last one, as one who inspires, encourages, and empowers. These two scenes would also lead us to think that this is when Aragorn would take up his responsibility to begin leading Men, but unfortunately it is not to be. I will get to that shortly.
Where Is the Horse and the Rider?
Théoden’s monologue in this context is an interesting example of taking a line from the book but redefining it significantly by redefining its context. We have seen examples reshaping the context with Éowyn’s character arc, but those scenes have been done in such ways that they preserved much of the original sense of the dialogue. In the movie, Théoden says this as he reflects on what could be the end of his realm: “Where is the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing? They have passed like rain on the mountains, like wind in the meadow. The days have gone down in the West, behind the hills, into shadow. How did it come to this?”
These words thus become something of a dirge for his dying realm given in response to its sudden end. In the book, a version of these words is part of a poem that Aragorn recites at Edoras:
Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?
Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?
Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?
Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing?
They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;
The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.
Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning?
Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning? (III/6)
Aragorn tells his companions that this is a poem dedicated to Eorl the Young, the founding king of Rohan, who rode into battle to save the army of Gondor and thereby earned the land that is now the realm of Rohan. It is thus a characteristic poem and story of Rohan, one that has been passed on for centuries in commemoration of where they came from. Because it is more about their origins than their potential fate, there is a sense in which the movie and book versions of these words are directly contradictory in context. Of course, one could suggest that Théoden is reflecting on these words with a sense of tragic irony, evoking the origins of the Rohirrim even as he is apparently seeing their end.
The Elves at Helm’s Deep
One of the most memorable changes TT made to the book is in giving the Elves of Lórien a role at the Battle of the Hornburg. This change was made to provide a resolution to Galadriel’s question to Elrond about letting the rest of Middle-earth stand alone and in order to reaffirm the message that the Elves help in this battle because they are part of this world and that its problems are also theirs. Although this represents a radical departure from the book in that the Elves are directly aiding in the affairs of the kingdoms of Men during the War (apart from the exceptions of Elladan and Elrohir, who are essentially “tributed” by this gesture, as Boyens suggests), my main objection is not about how radically it differed from the book, since it makes sense in the context of the movie and since I tend to regard alterations for the worse more severely than I do simple additions. This is supposed to be the first battle in the main story in which we see Aragorn command other men. He is not the leader of the defense, so he co-leads with Éomer (in the book version, obviously) and defers in all ultimate decisions to Théoden. In the movies Aragorn actually never leads other living Men into battle until the very last battle we see on screen. On at least three occasions prior to that final campaign in the book, Tolkien gives us a taste of Aragorn as a commander, a compelling, charismatic leader of Men who is powerful and empowering. But the change introduced here in the film makes Aragorn only the chief commander of the Elves defending the Deeping Wall. Although he is still a commander in battle, and that much is an acknowledgment of him as a leader, Aragorn should be commanding Men in anticipation of him taking up his destiny as the King of Men, not the King of Elves. What should have been a time to demonstrate Aragorn’s quality as a leader of Men was instead undercut by other changes to the story.
Another significant change introduced here as a result of bringing Elves to Helm’s Deep is the change made for the character of Haldir. Haldir is the leader of the Elves from Lórien, included here because he is a recognizable Elf from Lórien in the first film. As a recognizable Elf, he was killed in the battle to individualize and concretize further the sacrifice of the Elves as a whole. None of them would return to the Golden Wood, but it is quite possible that no one would have returned from this battle at all if not for their strong defense of the Deeping Wall. Of course, Haldir did not die in the Battle of the Hornburg in the book. In fact, he did not die at all in Tolkien’s work. I understand why this change was made, but since I have already commented on the reason for its introduction, I will not dwell on it here.
Still, I am glad that they did not include an additional change that was originally planned. There was an idea that Arwen would show up to fight at Helm’s Deep. Liv Tyler even trained in sword fighting specifically for this sequence. Of course, the filmmakers (and Tyler herself) came to their senses and realized that Aragorn and Arwen’s arc does not work as effectively with this alteration and so abandoned this idea.
The Battle of the Hornburg/Helm’s Deep
What, then, is there to say about the Battle of the Hornburg (or the Battle of Helm’s Deep, as it is known in the film) in general? Briefly, I think it is excellent. Tolkien’s narration of the battle is fine (albeit not on the level of his work for the Siege of Gondor or the Battle of Pelennor Fields), but I think it is difficult to argue that Jackson and co. did not provide a version more suited for the cinematic medium, complete with a more sustained build-up in the previous scenes (for which Jackson cited the classic Zulu as his model). The atmosphere is perfect, the tension is built well prior to the firing of the first arrow (which happens by accident), it is paced well with clearly identifiable phases/chapters, the emotional impact is established both explicitly and—as noted before—subtly, and the action is, of course, enthralling. It does not proceed exactly like the book’s version, as Éomer is not at the fortress, he and Gimli do not retreat into the Caves of Aglarond after being separated from Aragorn and Legolas, Aragorn does not speak with the Uruk-hai, the Dunlendings—as I have already noted—do not participate in this battle, and the attacks throughout do not come in waves so much as they come like a flood on the fortress. But the movie version covers most of the same story beats in more cinematically dramatic fashion and concludes in (mostly) the same fashion. It is a well-done adaptation of this important battle that the filmmakers should be proud of. I will only comment further on a few minor changes, plus a more significant one at the end of the battle.
First, the movie retains Legolas and Gimli’s competitive counting of kills. As in the book, Legolas has a big early lead because of his archery skills, but Gimli ultimately wins by one. Oddly, the book has Gimli finish with forty-two kills and Legolas with forty-one, but the Extended Edition gives the counts as forty-three and forty-two respectively. I am not sure why one was added to both counts, and Jackson makes no mention of it in the commentary, but it is a curious thing to note.
Second, we see the seeds planted here for what would become an annoying tendency in The Hobbit films. Legolas had a stunt earlier in the special way that he mounted an oncoming horse (which was the result of Orlando Bloom being injured and needing CGI to complete his mounting of the horse), but this is the first stunt in which Legolas is the focus of the shot. In this scene he uses an Uruk-hai shield to slide down the stairs of the Deeping Wall while shooting his arrows and he completes the stunt by lodging the shield in an Uruk-hai. I thought this stunt was fine, it was a fun visual, and it was only an appetizer for his most memorable stunt in the trilogy. Unfortunately, in hindsight it is rather unfortunate that Jackson and co. decided to focus on this part of Legolas to the point that it would become his defining trait in The Hobbit. And then we would have such nightmare sequences like the barrel riding scene, or his exploitation of enemy creatures to do impossibly well-coordinated stuff, or his pièce de crap Super Mario stunt. If only we had known how bad it would become, maybe we would not have cheered it so much in these movies. But those are problems of The Hobbit, not LOTR.
Third, the defense of the gate is no longer a three-person job, since Éomer is not a part of the battle. Instead, the scene is simplified to the involvement of only Aragorn and Gimli. In the process, the movie presents a contrast to an earlier memorable scene in Moria, when Gimli insisted that nobody tosses a Dwarf. But now we see Aragorn twisting his arm—in a way that only a friend could—to admit that he can’t jump the distance between the side door and the gate. Gimli begrudgingly suggests that Aragorn throw him over the gap, but pleads with him, “Don’t tell the Elf.” Aragorn assures him that he won’t right before throwing the deadly Dwarf into the stream of Uruk-hai. This is obviously not reflective of the book, but I thought it was enjoyable as a small moment of levity in an otherwise emotionally tense atmosphere, and it did well to illustrate the camaraderie and friendship that has developed between the Three Hunters. Although I wish the movies had not so emphasized the comic relief elements of Gimli’s character, it is difficult to ignore how well Rhys-Davies delivers his lines in comedic settings. It will not appeal to everyone—there is no such thing as universal comedy—but I mostly liked it (and my problems stem more from what was left out than what was actually in the movies).
(Speaking of the defense of the gate, there is an interesting behind-the-scenes story here. The battering ram used here was made to be a real battering ram, not simply a prop that looked like one. After all, Jackson wanted a realistic effect of a carried battering ram breaking through a gate. However, unbeknownst to Jackson and his stuntmen carrying the ram, the art department also made legitimately strong gates that were capable of withstanding many hard strikes from this battering ram. No one expected the art department to be such capable gate makers.)
Fourth, more significantly, Aragorn is the one who makes the suggestion to Théoden to “Ride out with me.” It was the other way around in the book. Indeed, Théoden’s emotional state in this last stage of the battle is directly contradictory to the film version. Book Théoden is defiant while movie Théoden is despondent. It takes Aragorn to rouse his warrior spirit, but book Théoden was already chomping at the bit to finish the fight on his terms. This is part of movie Théoden’s more dynamic character arc, but I also think the contrast shows that a more dynamic character is not always more compelling by comparison to a less dynamic character. It all depends on context. In this context, I find book Théoden more interesting, even if movie Théoden is not bad in this regard.
(As a side-note, I should mention that what Théoden says before the final charge at Helm’s Deep is actually a line attributed to Éomer when he thinks the Rohirrim are making their last stand in the Battle of Pelennor Fields. The implication would seem to be that these words were part of staves that were well known in Rohan and appropriate for the occasion of a last desperate charge or a last stand, which is not necessarily implied in the books, although the first line is used for another song composed later. It is appropriate in both contexts, and I think this is another good minor example of the movies being creatively faithful to the books.)
Finally, another significant change that I have alluded to many times over comes in the conclusion of the battle. Gandalf arrives with hope at dawn accompanied by Éomer and 2,000 cavalrymen. The book version of this conclusion has Gandalf arrive accompanied by Erkenbrand and 1,000 footmen. As I have said before, I am honestly fine with this change. Jackson and co. did not need to introduce more characters than were necessary, especially in this significant of a role. Erkenbrand does not appear often hereafter in the story, since he leads the defense of Rohan instead of riding to Minas Tirith in ROTK. He is one of those characters that deepens the lore and world-building of the book, but in the more condensed medium of film, it is better to avoid introducing him altogether. That and the spectacle of 2,000 horsemen charging down the hill with the sunlight behind them is simply more impressive than the alternative.
By the way, I am not commenting at length on the involvement of the Huorns in destroying the Uruk-hai simply because the Extended Edition did not make any noteworthy changes from the book in this regard. It worked, it preserved the book’s story better than the theatrical version, and it honestly should have been in the theatrical version. Moreover, in line with the book, it was properly subtle in its spectacle, as it is left to our imaginations what these trees are doing to the Uruk-hai to kill them.
The Fall of Isengard
Of course, the Huorns were not the only ones from Fangorn Forest to get involved in the War. We also see the Ents finally attack Isengard. The juxtaposition of this scene with the final moments of the Battle of the Hornburg is something more effectively achieved in the film medium than in the medium of literature. The sudden turn in fortune—the mini-eucatastrophe, if you will—is so radical in nature that we see all at once how what Saruman purposed to be the destruction of Rohan has instead become the destruction of his own realm and his own designs for extending his power. By emptying Isengard of the Uruk-hai, he left it all the more vulnerable to a potential attack on his very borders that he had completely forgotten in his headlong march into war. An ancient force of nature has arrived with a reckoning on his exploitative technological ways. This contrast of the forces of nature with Saruman’s technology—along with the contrast of how the latter was used to destroy and exploit the former and is now being destroyed by it—is executed well, and the scene as a whole works as a wondrous spectacle.
It's Like in the Great Stories
In the other major plotline, we get a film-only journey to Osgiliath, as Faramir has to address the situation there before sending Frodo off to his father in Minas Tirith. The events in this setting are thus inventions of the film, though not all the lines. This whole sequence is meant to ratchet up the tension, as Faramir almost achieves his purpose, Sam must tell Faramir why Boromir died (and thus leave Faramir to question his judgment), and Frodo has his encounter with the Nazgûl, at which point Frodo is almost abducted. And after Frodo has saved Sam twice in this movie (once as he did in the book from Gollum and once in the film only before the Black Gate), Sam now saves Frodo. This action and its aftermath show how Frodo is slipping—to the point that he unthinkingly pulls his sword on Sam—and how Frodo could not come back from the Quest without Sam. These parts are not in the book, but they do well enough in keeping the story on track despite the changes made around the central plot.
As much as I have criticized the adaptation of Faramir and some of the choices made in the progression of Frodo, Sam, and Gollum’s story, I must admit that I am not sure what general changes Jackson and co. could have made to keep the chronology relatively accurate and to maintain the placement of my favorite line in the movie. For all that I insist that the characterization in the book is better, at some level I simply need to acknowledge that the movie versions of these things are what they are, in order that we could get to this powerful climax. Sam’s wonderful speech here serves well as a high note near the end of this second movie, and it may not have had the same impact within the context of the film trilogy if it was kept in its same place in the story (namely, a scene that would be transposed to ROTK). This speech is given in response to Frodo saying that he can’t do this, after he had been under the influence of the Ring and threatened Sam’s life, which has no counterpart in the book. I love this speech and find it to be a good mixture of Tolkien and “Tolkienesque” elements. For analysis, I will quote it in full.
“I know. It’s all wrong. By rights we shouldn’t even be here. But we are. It’s like in the great stories, Mister Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you, that meant something. Even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mister Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn’t. Because they were holding onto something.”
“What are we holding onto, Sam?”
“That there’s some good in this world, Mister Frodo. And it’s worth fighting for.”
Now here is the equivalent from the book, specifically Book IV, Chapter 8:
“And we shouldn’t be here at all, if we’d known more about it before we started. But I suppose it’s often that way. The brave things in the old tales and songs, Mr. Frodo: adventures, as I used to call them. I used to think that they were things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for, because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of a sport, as you might say. But that’s not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind. Folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually—their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn’t. And if they had, we shouldn’t know, because they’d have been forgotten. We hear about those as just went on—and not all to a good end, mind you; at least not to what folk inside a story and not outside it call a good end. You know, coming home, and finding things all right, though not quite the same—like old Mr. Bilbo. But those aren’t always the best tales to hear, though they may be the best tales to get landed in! I wonder what sort of tale we’ve fallen into?”
Obviously, some changes were made to fit this speech into its new film context, but Jackson and co. have retained its essence as a disquisition on story and they make the final message of it more direct. I am certainly happy that this speech was retained in the adaptation process. It is one of a handful of moments from LOTR that Tolkien described as being the most moving for him (Letter #96). That is no surprise, because this is a subject Tolkien devoted much thought to and one that captured his heart and imagination. The functions and effects of stories on people, the ways “secondary world” stories raise questions about the Primary World and can even be revelatory about the Primary World, and the special virtue of the fairy story—the kind of story that he wrote—are themes that come up regularly in his work (especially the essay “On Fairy Stories”), subtly in his own stories, in his letters, and in a poem he wrote well before his fame titled “Mythopoeia,” dedicated and addressed to his friend C. S. Lewis. Indeed, this poem was based on conversations of theirs that ultimately led to Lewis’s conversion to Christianity. And the rest, as they say, is history. For all of the changes that Jackson and co. made to these books in their adaptation to film, I will always love that they kept this speech and preserved one of Tolkien’s great meditations in film.
Falling Action
After such heavy and exalted material, Jackson and co. bring us back down in the Extended Edition with the falling action prior to the conclusion with a major tonal shift over the course of three scenes. First is the aforementioned conclusion of the Battle of the Hornburg when the Huorns annihilate what is left of the Uruks. Second is a scene I have noted already with Legolas and Gimli giving their final tallies for the battle, except it is played for extra laughs with their film-only dispute over Gimli’s last kill, which happens to have Gimli’s axe buried in his nervous system. Third is the scene of Merry and Pippin enjoying the victory over Isengard amidst the flood. This is a scene without direct parallel in the book, but it is a reasonable interpolation in anticipation of the spoils of war that they will be enjoying later (and it accurately conveys that Saruman has a store of pipe-weed from the Southfarthing). But of course, one could guess that this—as well as the previous scene—was not written by Tolkien based on the silliness at this point in the story and the occasional anachronistic language.
The last scene of Faramir—at least in the Extended Edition—is a transposed scene from Henneth Annûn in which Faramir says more about the path Gollum is taking them to and warns Frodo about going there. The dialogue is essentially a synopsis of that scene with an added threat from Faramir to Gollum. We also see a changed dynamic between Sam and Faramir, which is accurate to the transposed scene in the book, although this time it is encapsulated with Sam assuring Faramir that he has shown his quality, the very highest. There is also a dialogue between Sam and Gollum that seems out of place, as Sam informs Gollum that Frodo did not mean for the Rangers to hurt him; he only intended to save him. Sam thus implores him to forgive and forget. Gollum agrees and Sam gives him his first and only compliment of doing the very decent thing. I say this is out of place because it has no impact on the rest of the story, even though it should. Because of the way Gollum has been characterized to this point, one would expect that Sam telling him this would introduce further doubt and uncertainty into Gollum’s mind and cause an even more protracted debate. If Jackson and co. had kept an important scene that I will have much to say about later, this dialogue would have functioned well enough to warrant its inclusion. But since they do not, it does not. If they had not short-circuited Gollum’s potential redemption arc, this scene might have made an actual contribution and would have justified inclusion even in the theatrical version.
The Threat on the Horizon
When we switch back to Frodo and Sam’s story for the final time, we catch them talking about if their story will be put into songs or tales. This picks up with an altered version of the last bit of the speech I quoted above from the book, although it is once again transposed. It mostly preserves the dialogue from the book and the charm of the scene with it, but I can’t help but miss the original setting. I am not sure how this could have been filmed, so I do not hold it against the filmmakers that it was not included, but while Frodo and Sam are having this dialogue, there is an intriguing note here: “‘It’s saying a lot too much,’ said Frodo, and he laughed, a long clear laugh from his heart. Such a sound had not been heard in those places since Sauron came to Middle-earth. To Sam suddenly it seemed as if all the stones were listening and the tall rocks leaning over them.” I suppose they could have found a way to juxtapose that laughter with the bleakness of the setting, but the scene and dialogue also functions well enough in their present form and context. In fact, it was the placement of this dialogue here that also led to the transposition of Sam’s great speech from the earlier scene, as it was supposed to be a lead-in for this discussion.
The movie concludes with Gollum’s self-dialogue, which is loosely based on his self-dialogue in the book as he debates whether or not to be good and how to get his Precious back. It is fine for what it is and it is well performed, as is typical, by Andy Serkis. It also ends the movie on an appropriately leery and suspenseful note, as the audience is left to wonder who he is referring to and what Sméagol plans to do in order to lead them to “her.” This is more or less a final resolution for Sméagol as the next movie will not so much present him as if he is still debating about this course of action, but as if he is worrying about being found out. It seems as if Sméagol has already passed the point of redemption, as is reiterated in the closing song “Gollum’s Song” that plays during the credits. While I cannot support the finality of this decision, I do think this was a proper note to end this particular movie in order to create further interest for the next movie.