(avg. read time: 48–96 mins.)
FOTR was my introduction to Tolkien as a whole. I never read the books or even heard of them before I saw the first preview of this movie. Once I saw it, I was hooked for a lifetime. As I look back on it as an adaptation, I find even more things to love about it—as well as some points at which I can criticize it—and I realize that, while I initially thought it was the one that was most “by the book” (which may or may not be true depending on how you weight various factors), it actually set the precedent for the adaptation philosophy of this series as a whole rather than being an aberration due to the editing of the next two movies. I think Book I may have been the one treated best as a whole by the adaptation philosophy because Book I shows that Tolkien is figuring out as he goes what kind of story he wants LOTR to be. As a result, there are side-tracks unnecessary to the larger plot and story (though beneficial to the sub-creative project) and more tonal shifts than any of the other books. It is not until the group gets to Rivendell that the story takes a more consistent shape and tone. The film establishes this greater consistency from the beginning with its prologue effectively juxtaposed to the scenes in the Shire, which in turn effectively transition into the more perilous and adventurous story thereafter.
Prologue
To establish the tone from the beginning and to give the key background information here rather than in the place equivalent to the second chapter of the book (where the exposition would have been too heavy for the film medium), the movie leans on a prologue with Galadriel providing the narration. Shore’s iconic music and Blanchett’s excellent voice effectively convey the tone and gravitas of this prologue that will give shape to everything that follows. The first several words from Galadriel are only slightly altered (the sense of “change” is different from “changing” to “changed”, which matches the different frames of reference for each line) from words said by Treebeard to Galadriel and Celeborn in Book VI Chapter 6, and I think they work effectively here as an introduction to the world to create questions that do not get the viewer lost in details. It also creates intrigue as Galadriel’s English narration is interspersed with the lines in Elvish. However, one line is confusing in context: “Much that once was is lost, for none now live who remember it.” It is unclear what is lost and thus those who would remember it if they still lived, particularly since this is supposed to be Galadriel saying this. Naturally, this line is not from the book. The best way to make sense of it is if this line is a way to communicate Tolkien’s framework of these stories as expressions of distant mythical history (as he thought was one of the truth-telling aims of myth). If this is true, then this line is yet another subtle but excellent way of maintaining fidelity to Tolkien’s mythology without directly adapting the details.
Before I move on to the other details of the prologue, I must say that this idea for having this prologue was the right decision for the purposes of film adaptation. It is an effective way to convey both visually and verbally a lot of important background. And transplanting some material here that was saved for the second chapter in the book allows for the exposition to be better distributed for the film medium. Furthermore, it supplies a reference point on which later parts of the movie to build (such as the actual equivalent of the second chapter in Bag End and Elrond’s flashback). It is an efficient means of adaptation that simultaneously accomplishes multiple purposes.
When Galadriel says the Rings of Power contained the will and power to govern each race, this is not quite true to the books or to what Tolkien has said in explanation. They do have such power only in the sense that they enhance the natural powers of their wearers, the wearers were initially rulers, and Sauron did attempt to use them to rule. But chiefly they are for preserving what is loved and desired while slowing decay, which made them especially attractive to the Elves (though the three Great Rings Celebrimbor made were without Sauron’s participation and thus they were not as strongly linked to the One). I will address another major power of the One Ring in particular later, but for now it is worth pointing out that this will to preservation was also a means by which Sauron sought (and in nine cases, succeeded) to enhance his power in corrupting and dominating the wills of others. Elves would seek to preserve the beauty of the natural world, their craftwork, and their realms. Dwarves would seek to preserve and grow their hordes of treasure (as well as what they made with their stonework and treasure). Men would seek to preserve their power and their very lives (as many viewed mortality as a doom rather than a gift). Mentioning this point, rather than simply saying that the Rings had the will and power to govern each race, would help give further insight into each race and the desires Sauron sought to use in dominating them. Still, I do not know that this point should count too heavily against the movie, as it does not create any incoherence within this film or with the others as such.
As for the making of the One Ring itself, the movie is accurate to this point, that Sauron made this Ring without the knowledge of the others and sought to use it control all others. As such, he poured into the Ring his cruelty, his malice, and his will to dominate all life. This is a fair, succinct, and memorable way of conveying how he poured so much of his self (his fëa) into the Ring so that he could no longer be whole apart from it. He had to put so much power into it in order to make it the device by which he could dominate other wills as strong as those of the Elven rulers (if his plans had been fulfilled). Interestingly, the filmmakers originally had an idea for conveying the bond of Sauron to the Ring that is not in the book but is not out of keeping with its ideas either. There is storyboarding material of Sauron melting gold in his hand, followed by him stabbing his hand, resulting in the gold and his blood mixing in the form of a ring on his finger. If you look closely in this opening, you can even see the blade in his lower hand. Unfortunately, this creative idea did not make it fully intact into the final cut, but what remains in the prologue—as well as in scattered pieces of dialogue—conveys the point well enough of how he is bound to it.
The battle in this prologue is not the Battle of Dagorlad (as Philippa Boyens incorrectly said in the special features), as that happened seven years earlier than Sauron’s final defeat in the war, although the text Gandalf reads later dates to the year of Dagorlad (3434 of the Second Age), which is a mistake in the movie (Isildur took the Ring in 3441 of the Second Age). Rather, this battle is likely the conclusion to the Siege of Barad-dûr and I simply refer to it as the Battle of the Last Alliance (as Boyens called it in the commentary) or the Battle of Gorgoroth (as Richard Taylor calls it in Part 5 of the special features). It is the shortest major battle in these films, which is fine, since it is in the prologue. It is still visually exciting (especially the moment of the sequenced attacks from the Elves on the front line) and a great way to get audiences invested in the action from early in the movie. I would only offer one suggestion for improvement. The movie makes brief visual reference to Gil-galad and Elendil, the kings of Elves and Men respectively, while only referring to the latter by name (I should also note that Elendil is not portrayed here as especially tall, though he was called Elendil the Tall). We never see what happens to Gil-galad and, as a result, what Sauron tries to do to Isildur does not appear as sensible, even from his perspective. In his fight with Gil-galad and Elendil, Sauron conquered them both (though he was slain too), but Gil-galad he killed by grabbing him and thus setting him ablaze. This scene was actually made for storyboard and photographs exist of it (see here), but it was never included in the theatrical or extended versions. If the movie portrayed the fates of both, the audience would be visually primed for what Sauron intended to do to Isildur, and Isildur could still land the final blow by cutting off Sauron’s fingers (even though this is not quite how he was defeated in the book). But this is a minor criticism that does not affect the substance of the scene. One should also remember that in both the theatrical cut and the Extended Edition the prologue was much longer than New Line’s initial “two minutes” requirement. So much more would have been lost if the studio had won this argument with the makers, and a great prologue with minor issues from not being long enough is vastly preferable to one that is far too short. This part of the prologue is especially effective and should be recognized as such for its overall impact.
Boyens should also be given due credit for figuring out how to skip over so much backstory without making the prologue overly long. She condensed it down into the line “History became legend. Legend became myth. And many things that should not have been forgotten were lost.” The line is not taken from LOTR, but it conveys well how much lore was forgotten in the days of the story and how few had remembered what was needful to remember.
Another noteworthy point is that Galadriel says that the Hobbits would shape the fortunes of all. This is not strictly a line from Tolkien’s work, but it is clearly synonymous. Tolkien’s line from his own prologue is, “But in the days of Bilbo, and of Frodo his heir, they suddenly became, by no wish of their own, both important and renowned and troubled the counsels of the Wise and the Great.” Once again, by adhering to the spirit of the books, the movie has preserved the theme of the greatness of small things and the importance of the humble in great deeds and great events. As Tolkien himself says in Letter #131 (to Milton Waldman):
Some of the details of tone and treatment are, I now think, even on that basis, mistaken. But I should not wish to change much. For in effect this is a study of simple ordinary man, neither artistic nor noble and heroic (but not without the undeveloped seeds of these things) against a high setting – and in fact (as a critic has perceived) the tone and style change with the Hobbit’s development, passing from fairy-tale to the noble and high and relapsing in the return….
But through Hobbits, not Men so-called because the last Tale is to exemplify most clearly a recurrent theme: the place in ‘world politics’ of the unforeseen and unforeseeable acts of will, and deeds of virtue of the apparently small, ungreat, forgotten in the place of the Wise and Great (good as well as evil). A moral of the whole (after the primary symbolism of the Ring, as the will to mere power, seeking to make itself objective by physical force and mechanism, and so also inevitably by lies) is the obvious one that without the high and noble the simple and vulgar is utterly mean; and without the simple and ordinary the noble and heroic is meaningless.
Likewise, in Letter #165 (to Houghton Mifflin Co.), he writes, “There are of course certain things and themes that move me specially. The inter-relations between the ‘noble’ and the ‘simple’ (or common, vulgar) for instance. The ennoblement of the ignoble I find specially moving.” This theme will continue coming up in the movies in their own ways, and I try to highlight those ways as often as I take special notice of them.
Concerning Hobbits
Though his role is reduced compared to his book counterpart, I must say I quite enjoyed Ian Holm as Bilbo (who also played his younger self in the prologue thanks to some good make-up work without the use of de-aging CGI). His voice has a peculiarly whimsical quality that I always associated with Bilbo (and he is also one of the cast members that does not need to put on an accent). At the same time, he portrays well the strain and burden the Ring has put on his mind, which involves stark swings away from his joyful personality toward existential fatigue and vicious possessiveness. There’s more going on with him than he lets on, and it makes for effective indications of how the Ring can work on someone who otherwise remains benevolent. His acting does well in conveying the threat of the Ring in subtle ways even before the more dramatically overt scenes, where he also conveys well the intensity of his emotions.
The scene-setting at the start of the Extended Edition is even better than the theatrical version in terms of both introducing us to the world and introducing us to the Shire and the Hobbits that inhabit it. In the first respect, the improvement is small but significant. Namely, instead of a fade-to-black transition to Frodo reading, the Extended Edition cuts back to the map of Middle-earth and takes us to the Shire from the Misty Mountains where Bilbo had found the Ring. After the original map shot gave us a quickly conveyed sense of scale of how big Middle-earth is, this map shot gives us an idea of where we are in relation to that larger map, and it serves as a reminder, for those who have not read the book, of how big this world is, how much of it we do not even get to explore, and how even the Shire is bigger than what we will we ever see on screen.
In the second respect, we get all-new footage in the Extended Edition wherein Bilbo tells us about the Shire and the Hobbits in narration while writing part of the prologue of LOTR entitled “Concerning Hobbits.” This fits the fact that Bilbo is, in fact, writing a book in LOTR, which Frodo also contributes to, and which is supposed to form the basis of LOTR, known as the Red Book of Westmarch. As for the Shire, it is a near-idyllic setting practically untouched by the outside world, and the Hobbits are similarly in a bubble keeping to themselves and (mostly) not bothering themselves with any happenings outside of their borders. They wish only to preserve their comfortable lives and satisfy their simple pleasures. Because it will not come into play in the film story—with the obvious exceptions—Bilbo does not say anything of the hardiness of this folk who can do without their comforts, pleasures, and luxuries if put to it, having a curious toughness despite their easy lives. In short, this simplicity of Hobbit existence is meant here as a contrast with everything else that follows rather than something that will be tested in trial much later on, as in the books. This is the paradise that the four main Hobbits strive to protect and save from one who would seek to dominate and destroy it for no reason but spite. Everything about this opening suggests how good and joyful this place is and how worth protecting it is.
I love the warmth of Gandalf and Frodo’s first interaction. They joke and laugh with each other, embrace, catch up, and have several exchanges of knowing looks and coyness. This is suggestive that the relationship Gandalf has with Frodo is not merely one of a guardian, guide, and teacher/mentor, but also of an old and dear friend of the family with whom Frodo has much familiarity. This scene and everything it establishes by implication and explication is essential for adding another layer to all of their scenes together as well as scenes in which one shows concern for the other. This scene is also the first one to establish what Pippin once observes about Gandalf in Book V Chapter 1 of ROTK, “Yet in the wizard’s face he saw at first only lines of care and sorrow; though as he looked more intently he perceived that under all there was a great joy: a fountain of mirth enough to set a kingdom laughing, were it to gush forth.” For all of the hardness on the exterior that he displays throughout the movies, the scene of him shooting off some small fireworks for the Hobbit children who chase after his wagon serves as a keen reminder of his underlying “mallowness”. Much the same applies to the scene where Gandalf arrives at Bag End.
When Gandalf meets with Bilbo, there is a short scene (only slightly extended in the Extended Edition) that shows how bothered Bilbo is by his relatives, the Sackville-Bagginses (who also cause him trouble at his birthday party in the Extended Edition). I am not entirely sure how to evaluate this inclusion. Since the Scouring of the Shire has been taken out, this plotline does not lead anywhere (which in the book includes a rather unfortunate end for Lotho and a nice, redemptive end for Lobelia). On the other hand, it provides some additional levity as Bilbo, known for his adventure that required a great deal of bravery, responds in fear and tries his best to avoid some annoying relatives. It is a risible contrast that this is his worst external conflict in the movies while his internal one is gravely serious. It also comports with how Bilbo appears fine—in fact, too fine—on the outside, but on the inside is becoming exhausted at the extension of his life at the expense of possessing the Ring. This is the first indication the audience gets of the damage the Ring can do to its possessor with prolonged exposure, which is only on one side of a spectrum near the opposite of what we will see with Sméagol/Gollum and the Ringwraiths.
A Long-Expected Party
But as we only have hints of things to come, the tonal shift to the next couple of scenes is not too severe. First, we see Bilbo and Gandalf relaxing and smoking their pipes in front of Bag End in the veritable calm before the storm. Again, this scene is not precisely in the book, but what it conveys subtly and visually (including in Gandalf’s skill to form a ship out of his smoke) is precisely what this movie needed to get its points across about these characters and their relationship (as is also conveyed by the fact that both Gandalf and Bilbo softly sing “The Road Goes Ever On,” the former in his introduction and the latter in his exit from Hobbiton). It works better than would any direct adaptation of the first chapter of FOTR, wherein there is a lot of talk between Hobbit characters, most of whom we will not hear of/from again until the end of ROTK. That is suitable for a book medium, but not a film one, where visuals and more concise dialogue are the tools of the trade. Second, the party itself tells us well enough visually what the book had to spend several pages setting up and explaining about Hobbits and about the party itself. While in the original story this party serves at the meta-level as a contrast with the “Unexpected Party” (hence the title of the first chapter as “A Long-Expected Party”) and as a transition from The Hobbit to the story of LOTR, all that is needed here is once again simple visual cues to tell us all we need to know about the party, about the Hobbits who attend, and about what a carefree setting this is.
During the party, we are introduced to a story thread that is even thinner than it is in the book: the relationship of Sam and Rosie Cotton. In the movies, Sam starts with eyeing Rosie during the dance at Bilbo’s party and is forced to suck up his cowardice and dance with her, passes up trying to say something to her at the Green Dragon, and then, with his newfound courage once he returns from the Quest, he proposes to her and marries her. This whole story relies on assumed history between them, and it depends on the arc of the larger story, as well as Sam’s personal character arc within that story. They talk more in the book, but the book similarly relies on a history between them (having grown close, along with their families, when they were children) and the arc of their story is similarly dependent on and parallel to the arc of the larger story, as well as Sam’s personal character arc. In the aforementioned Letter #131, Tolkien describes their love story—nowhere truly elaborated—as a “simple, ‘rustic’ love” that is “absolutely essential” (emphasis his) to the study of his character and, “to the theme of the relation of ordinary life (breathing, eating, working, begetting) and quests, sacrifice, causes, and the ‘longing for Elves’, and sheer beauty.” I wish Rosie had more to say in the movies and did not rely on others to talk about her for her characterization, but whatever one may say about the simplicity of this love story, that is exactly the point. It does not need further exposition to make sense, unlike the failed love story of Kili and Tauriel, where the so-called “love” is emerging for the first time.
The point I made earlier about how Bilbo’s greatest external conflict at this point in the story is his trouble with the Sackville-Bagginses also applies to when Merry and Pippin light Gandalf’s dragon firework. This is the only thing that causes panic among these Shire-folk, and it is the most perilous thing that actually happens to them as a whole in these movies (one Hobbit apparently gets killed by the Nazgûl later on, but nothing is made of it and the scene really was needless). And it ends up exploding in a delightful array of sparks that fill the night sky. As such, the scene further illustrates just how peaceful life in the Shire is. Of course, it should be noted that this is a film-only innovation, as Merry and Pippin never steal one of Gandalf’s fireworks in the book. But it serves well as an impactful character introduction that fits the rascally nature of this, for now, inseparable pair of Hobbits.
Bilbo’s speech at his party is significantly reduced from the version in the book. This may be due to the adaptation medium, but it is also due to the fact that there is no concern here for pointing out how Bilbo’s speech became offensive to Hobbit sensibilities; the movie is not nearly as classically British, after all. The confusion of the audience is captured adequately in the one instance it is shown and there is no need to belabor the point in a movie. This scene is a minor but important illustration of how the filmmakers generally had good sense in knowing how much from the book was necessary to establish a point and then to keep moving from there. They also added a sense of psychological intensity to how Bilbo is acting to accentuate the effects of the Ring, which is not from the book, but is still at the service of setting up later parts that will be drawn from the book.
Leaving Bag End … and the Ring
To wit, let us discuss the scene of Bilbo leaving Bag End. There are some slight changes from how this scene is bracketed in the book in terms of the fact that Gandalf does not contribute a flash to Bilbo’s vanishing and the fact that the Dwarves (who also brought supplies for the party) do not accompany Bilbo. But the scene proper largely follows the book. Some of the dialogue was split between this scene and the earlier interaction of Bilbo and Gandalf to set up the effects the Ring has been having on Bilbo, wearing him out while keeping him “well-preserved” and making him feel peculiarly possessive of it. The scene in the book thus must do all the heavy lifting in dialogue to accomplish the tonal switch that happens therein, whereas it has been more spread out in the movie. Even in this scene, the tone subtly shifts to reveal the corruptive power of the Ring, as Bilbo initially treats it like something from a bag of tricks and thinks he is ready to give up the Ring, only to find that when it comes right down to it, he sees no reason why he should not keep it. Much of the dialogue is either drawn directly from the book or slightly altered. For example, Bilbo says, “Well no – and yes,” to the question of if it is so hard for him to leave it behind, while in the book Bilbo says, “Well yes – and no,” to the question of if he wants to leave it behind. In any case, the words accomplish the same ends. The climax of this dialogue with Gandalf’s reaction, though, is more of a case of fitting with the spirit rather than the letter of the scene, as the lighting effects and the angles of the shots convey, as it says in the book, that Gandalf, “seemed to grow tall and menacing; his shadow filled the little room” (I/1). Gandalf’s line is not entirely as it is in the book, but it still accomplishes the same end as Gandalf showing his sternness and assuring Bilbo that he is telling him what he should do for his own good. And it leads up to a statement only slightly altered from the book, “I am not trying to rob you. I am trying to help you” (vs. “I am not trying to rob you, but to help you”). The embrace between Bilbo and Gandalf is not from the book, but it is a nice, tension-relieving touch to signify Bilbo’s need for help and embracing the need to do what must be done, even if ruefully. Bilbo dropping the Ring is as tense as in the book, but in the book it is in an envelope that Gandalf picks up, which Gandalf only later places it in in the movie. Jackson also adds a sound effect of a loud thud (along with a magnet under the set) to convey the weight of the moment and that the Ring itself as weightier than it should seem. Finally, the scene is punctuated by Bilbo saying a line from the book about how he wants to end his own book, subtly conveying the relief he feels (at least for now) for no longer possessing the Ring and walking off with his stick while singing “The Road Goes Ever On.” This scene is a fine example of how to streamline an adapted conversation (including by splitting up the conversation between scenes) and of how to keep the atmosphere of the scene consistent with the source even amidst the changes.
The scenes that follow are fine for quickly conveying information from the book (such as Gandalf consulting the archives at Minas Tirith and the Hobbits speaking of rumors of the outside world). There is also a scene that is misplaced relative to the book to increase the tension in its differences from the book. That is, there is a scene where a Black Rider speaks with Farmer Maggot, which was longer in the book, happened after Frodo had left Bag End, and was more of a regular conversation with Maggot being less terrified than in the film version.
Otherwise, there is only one feature in this sequence that I think the films could have improved upon, even with a few tweaks here and there. In the Extended Edition there is a scene in which Frodo enjoys some drinks with Sam, Merry, and Pippin, as well as some other Hobbits of whom we never see much. The scene’s function is to show how rumors of conflict outside the Shire are starting to creep into consciousness there, and this does fit with what we see from the book of how the Hobbits speak of the outside world in the opening chapter, but I think it also unintentionally illustrates a weakness of the movie compared to the book. Besides the party, this is the only time we see Frodo out and about in the Shire with other Hobbits enjoying one of its many pleasures. Unlike in the book, which features Frodo’s conversations with people and his constant thoughts and expressions about missing things in the Shire, the movie never gives us a sense that Frodo has any strong attachment to the Shire beyond his relationships to only certain people in it—namely, Bilbo and the rest of the Hobbits in the Fellowship. There is nothing wrong with the latter per se, but what it loses in deviating from the books is that extra emotional layer, particularly because it contrasts with where Frodo will end up in relation to the Shire. The audience has been given a sense of the wonderfulness and purity of the Shire and the value in protecting it, but we do not see as much of Frodo’s personal “investment” in it, which in turn creates a slight disconnect with the tragedy of the ending. Still, one could say that this is coherent on the movies’ part, as Frodo will later speak of things he misses about the Shire, while Sam will speak of a person. But it nevertheless loses points on the front of adaptation fidelity and removing a layer to a character’s conflict.
The Extended Editions try to fix this problem in some measure, but when we do not see much of Frodo himself enjoying the Shire or expressing sadness at needing to leave it, it is not as effective compared to the book. I will come back to this issue more in my ROTK review. The best way I can justify it is that it illustrates a point that is often missed about LOTR. Frodo may be the main protagonist of the story, but Sam is the chief hero. Again, I will illustrate this point further as these reviews go on, but in this case, it is enough to say that Sam has the stronger attachment to the Shire and thus has more personal investment in its fate. As becomes clear by the end of the series, he maintains the greater share of hope because he has the greater desire to return, to enjoy the bountiful treasures of the Shire and to live happily ever after with Rosie Cotton, the woman he wants to marry but has yet to even gather the nerve to approach her.
Shadow of the Past
The portion of this movie that corresponds to “Shadow of the Past” in the book is much more condensed, as one would expect, and it is set at night to fit the ambiance of the scene, rather than in the daytime as in the book, where it provides more of an atmospheric contrast. In the book this chapter serves functions for both the sub-creative project and the particular narrative of LOTR as it relates most of the relevant backstory of the Ring, explains the nature of the Ring and what it does to its bearers, and establishes the stakes for the story as a whole. The version in the movie mainly has the last function, though it also adds some elements of backstory to what the prologue related. The backstory of Sméagol/Gollum is not fully addressed until the prologue of ROTK, which is fine. We also do not get in the movie some of the great lines Gandalf says in this chapter, but some of them will appear later, where I will explore their character and function a bit further. The most significant element left missing is the explanation about the Ring (except Gandalf’s points about how the Ring seeks reunion with its master and how it would wield a terrible power through Gandalf), which Jackson and co. tried to tell visually and left the audience to interpret or to go read the source material for more information. Whether one wants more explicit clarification will depend on one’s taste, but I would say the movie version does well precisely as an adaptation to a new medium. And in general, I would say the movie version of this portion of the corresponding chapter is a fine—and, at points of atmosphere and performance, even excellent—adaptation. The more concentrated sense of peril in the movie—expressed through atmosphere, music, interspersed cuts, and performance—also builds up to a greater release of tension as Gandalf drafts Sam into the Quest for his eavesdropping. (To this same end, Frodo and Sam set out more immediately in the movie than in the book, where they initially wait until Frodo’s birthday to leave.)
The Elven Company
At this point, once Gandalf has taken his leave from Frodo and Sam to go see Saruman, the Extended Edition features a scene in which Frodo and Sam see the Elves walk through the woods from a distance. This is but a small substitute for the book’s meeting of Frodo, Sam, and Pippin with the Elves as Frodo converses with Gildor, a character obviously not in the movie. It is only included in the Extended Edition because Jackson and co. wanted to establish from early on that the Elves are leaving Middle-earth and how sad that fact is (they also did not originally intend for Arwen to be the first Elf the Fellowship ever sees). But given other changes like how Pippin is not involved in this stage of the journey—not to mention the extra runtime reproducing this scene would have—it is entirely understandable that the scene as a whole did not make it into the movie. As a result, the “Don’t you leave him” command is given by Gandalf offscreen, as mentioned by Sam, rather than the Elves (also “offscreen”) and the first encounter on the road with the Nazgûl is delayed until later when the four Hobbits are all together (rather than a scene with a mixed tone featuring three of the Hobbits).
Seeing Saruman
Saruman’s first scene is a well-done adaptation of Gandalf’s flashback account later than this point in the book. It builds steadily—albeit quickly by necessity—as Saruman progresses—via progressive revelation of his true character—from friendly counselor to overly knowledgeable informant to arrogant rebel against traditional wisdom to outreaching turncoat to violent enemy. This scene establishes much about Saruman’s character and the process of his backstory in a short span of time. In particular, it shows how his mix of pride and knowledge without wisdom—as he uses his learning of lore to manipulate rather than learning from lore to maintain fidelity to his mission—brought about Saruman’s fall. Indeed, what he was known for, which was spurred by his ever-present desire for more knowledge, was ultimately used against him, as the scene visually implies what is expressly stated in the books that he used the palantír to gain more knowledge about Sauron, and that same device became Sauron’s tool for ensnaring him. This scene also concludes in a more action-packed way than in the book as the two Wizards battle it out with their Force powers. Once more, the wonderful music, combined with the action and the final line brilliantly voiced by Christopher Lee, enhances the quality of this scene that deviates from the book.
A Shortcut to Mushrooms
As I indicated earlier, the movie has Merry and Pippin join the Quest in a different way from the book. There is no journey to Crickhollow, no revelation of the conspiracy and the extent of Merry’s knowledge of Frodo’s affairs, no Fatty Bolger to stay behind and watch over Frodo’s property, and no extended scenes with Farmer Maggot. I suppose Merry and Pippin join at this point after a bit of hijinks because the movie makers wanted to establish further that these characters are two peas in a pod. The writers do not even separate them at all until a crisis in the last movie. Given the characters involved, I think this change works well in the movie. It is a shame that we miss a good scene at Crickhollow with the conspiracy unmasked, but the movies cannot take every turn that the books do.
After the shortcut to mushrooms, which is done more literally in the movie than in the book’s chapter of the same name, the Hobbits have their first encounter with the Nazgûl. The tonal shift is excellently executed as the Hobbits realize for the first time the level of danger in this Quest. Only Frodo senses the danger at first and even as he gets the other Hobbits to hide, they initially talk as if nothing is wrong. But once they hear the footsteps of the horse and feel the presence of the Ringwraith, the looks of worry and horror on their faces show how the peril of their situation is dawning on them. The tension is palpable, so much so that the insects cannot stand it and must flee the scene as the Ringwraith dismounts and sniffs about. This scene is not the direct equivalent of any in the book, but it effectively shows us how the Ringwraiths attempt to use fear to drive their enemies into fatal error. To wit, the tension is further amped up as Frodo feels compelled to put on the Ring but for the intervention of his friends. After a distraction allows the Hobbits to escape, the scene then transitions into the next one where Merry and Pippin clearly join the party from here on and they now have to negotiate the path to Buckleberry Ferry with more of the Ringwraiths around. In the book, they do not spot any Nazgûl until after they cross the Brandywine. Given the changes already noted and the juxtaposition of the scenes in the movie, it makes better sense for there to be a chase scene here.
On Second Thought, Let’s Not Go to the Old Forest; ’Tis a Silly Place
At this point we must reference one of the most extensive omissions in the movies (with the sole exception of the ending material of ROTK) as almost four chapters of material are cut out. Part of that omission is what I mentioned above about how Merry and Pippin join the Fellowship. The rest concerns the journey in the Old Forest, Tom Bombadil, and the Barrow-Downs. As noted before, Book I is where Tolkien was still figuring out what kind of story he wanted this to be and these chapters are especially demonstrative of that as he drew in Tom Bombadil, a character he had written about elsewhere, but not explicitly in relation to his larger mythos. These parts of the book contribute little to the overall plot (though obviously they contribute more to the sub-creative project) as they extend the Hobbits’ avoidance of the Black Riders, provide something else to talk about at the Council of Elrond, and explain how the Hobbits got their swords (of which Merry’s is the most important). As the first function is eliminated as not needing an extended side-track, the second is eliminated by omitting Tom Bombadil (an interesting and entertaining character, but not an important one for the sake of the story), and the third is fulfilled by Aragorn providing the Hobbits with swords (although it is never explicitly said that these are Arnorian blades, and this is not even what Merry uses in ROTK), the whole side-track is rendered unneeded for the film. The extra benefit of this is that it simplifies the threat of the Ring. After all, Bombadil is the one in the books who wears the Ring without any effect; it has no power over him. But without some explanation of Bombadil and/or some justification like Gandalf provided in the book version of the Council of Elrond, audiences would naturally be confused as to why the Ring is such a threat if this character could endure it just fine, and why he would not be involved more in the story. Tolkien himself realized the potential problem that Bombadil could create and thus wrote him out of the story by noting that the fact that it had no power over him would also mean (given his personality) that he would not guard it well, and in any case his power was not sufficient to guard it from Sauron. Jackson and co. have thus followed Tolkien’s instinct even further and removed him altogether. The Hobbits simply move from crossing the Brandywine to Bree. It is short, simple, to the point, and avoids the risk of making the Ring’s threat confusing. Of course, Boyens still likes to maintain, “We don’t know that they didn’t go into the Old Forest” in the movie, which I suppose is technically true.
The Not-so-Friendly Village of Bree
Bree itself is portrayed differently than in the book. In the book Bree is a country town where Men and Hobbits have learned to live together, and the Prancing Pony Inn in particular is a lively and busy tavern for locals and travelers to congregate together. The description is more or less like that of a typical country town, whereas the movie makes it seem especially dingy, seedy, and shady (rather than simply featuring shady ruffian individuals). It is made to be like a public restroom; you don’t want to spend any more time there than you need to. The design work is not bad, but the purpose to which it is put makes the setting off-putting. Likewise, Barliman Butterbur thus has his role reduced (for example, he does not pass on a letter from Gandalf to Frodo) and his staff members completely disappear, which further facilitates the audience not spending much time here. I must admit, this was one of the decisions I found questionable. According to Jackson, the experience is supposed to be disorienting for the first town the Hobbits visit outside of the Shire and to introduce Strider as a seemingly shady character amongst a bunch of them, though he actually turns out to be trustworthy and true. But again, I am not sure that was necessary, and of all places it does not work for Bree, since there were other Hobbits there in the original story.
This change further affects the scene when Frodo puts on the Ring for the first time. In the book this scene happens amidst an overall feeling of hospitality with a few pangs of suspicion, especially as Pippin gets tipsy and starts telling the story of Bilbo’s birthday party (rather than revealing that Frodo’s name is Frodo Baggins). In fact, Frodo is singing a song and loses his footing when the Ring slips on his finger. The movie has a much more hostile and sinister tone to the affair and Frodo also has his first vision of the Lidless Eye. I am not sure why the tonal shift could not have happened with this particular moment rather than simply making it the crescendo in an awkward and hostile sequence.
When the Nazgûl attack Bree, I find that it is a mix of quality work and ridiculous decisions. They seem to shift tactics midway through the assault. They start with busting down the gate to the town and trampling the porter underneath, then they swoop in through the front door of the Prancing Pony, and then they proceed slowly and noiselessly to poise themselves for some surreptitious stabbing. In the book stealth is the name of the game and there is a sense of quiet terror building, as opposed to the blaring score of the film (though, of course, I like the piece of music). In fact, it is in the stealth sequence that the scene is by far the most effective because it matches better the well-constructed atmosphere built in the book, which is then followed up with the Nazgûl scream, the base sound of which was provided by Fran Walsh. This effective scene is then followed up with Strider describing the Nazgûl, who and what they are, and the threat they pose. This further accentuates the excellent tone of the previous scene, and it helps mete out the exposition that would have been covered elsewhere by spreading it across various points in the story like this scene.
The Journey to Weathertop
As the group moves on from Bree, we see the scene that produced one of the most iconic (and memed) lines of the film. Strider insists that the Hobbits get moving and Pippin asks him about breakfast. When Strider reminds him that they have already had it, Pippin replies, “We’ve had one yes. What about second breakfast?” Although this line and the subsequent exchange between Merry and Pippin do not appear in the book, this scene is a perfect illustration of how the movie remains faithful to the book even as it moves elements around. The list of meals is actually more extensive by one meal than the statement in the book’s prologue that the Hobbits eat six meals per day. It is not entirely clear which meal has been added. Given that all of these meals are referenced somewhere in LOTR or The Hobbit, it is most likely that either second breakfast has been distinguished from elevenses (and elevenses may be a reference to time rather than a meal in the book) or dinner and supper have been separated into two meals (which is not unheard-of). Whatever the details, the brief dialogue effectively paints a vivid picture of how far from home the Hobbits already are and how different they are from their leader. For how effectively it illustrates the essential picture of the book about the nature of Hobbits, and for how it does so in a creative, succinct, and memorable fashion, this scene stands as a testament to the quality and creative integrity of the adaptational work of Jackson and co.
One of my favorite additions to the Extended Edition of this movie—which was cut from the theatrical version simply for pacing reasons—is a scene in which Aragorn softly sings a song in Elvish, which he tells Frodo is about Beren and Lúthien and he gives Frodo the most basic summary of their story (he only says that Lúthien was an Elf maiden who gave her love to a mortal Man, Beren and that she died as a result). This story does well in foreshadowing Aragorn’s own defining relationship with Arwen, though I wonder if the movie could not have made clearer that Lúthien died because she chose a mortal fate in order not to be parted from Beren in life or death (after she initially died of grief) so as to prime the audience for a key scene in ROTK. The book does more to draw on the parallels between these stories (such as in how Aragorn first meets Arwen and in the demand Elrond places on Aragorn to have her hand in matrimony), and I cannot help but wish the movie had made a few little expansions to draw on these parallels. For example, have a flashback to when Aragorn first sees Arwen as he is singing this same song or change the love story in such a way that Elrond’s last appearance before the coronation is his way of saying to Aragorn that he will be worthy of his daughter’s hand only if he earns the throne that is rightfully his. That would be out of keeping with the chronology of the book, but it would be a way of giving Elrond a more defined character arc within this love story and a way to draw the aforementioned parallel. There was actually footage shot of such a flashback featuring a clean-shaven Aragorn that has yet to be released. Jackson has joked that maybe it could be part of the 50th anniversary boxed set.
A Knife in the Dark
The scene at Amon Sûl (or Weathertop) is an overall better use of the Nazgûl than the earlier scene in Bree (even considering that I had positive things to say about the latter). The terror they inspire is clear, even to the point of changing what Frodo does from the book. But the book was able to convey this sense of terror without sacrificing Frodo’s action, so I do not see why the movie could not do the same. This is one of those scenes that demonstrate my problem with Frodo’s relative passivity in the movies. Book Frodo is stabbed as well and begins suffering from the Morgul blade wound, but not before he stabs one of the Nazgûl (namely, the Lord of the Nazgûl) in the foot after invoking the name of Elbereth. In any case, Aragorn makes the save here, as he does in the book, though the action scene is obviously more emphasized and even exaggerated in the film version (including a part where Aragorn throws a torch right into the face of a Nazgûl). The Nazgûl withdraw to bide their time while Frodo turns into a wraith himself, as will be the result if that wound from the Morgul blade is not healed.
This scene also shows, but does not explain, the nature of the invisibility the Ring grants its wearer, and this goes back to the power of the Ring that I did not mention earlier. It is not so much that the Ring grants a cloak of invisibility (though it does essentially have that effect), but that it enables the wearer to enter the Unseen world (the spiritual realm that supervenes on the Seen world) and to make that which is invisible (because it is in the Unseen world) visible. This is why Frodo sees the true forms of the Ringwraiths, who have long since slipped into the Unseen world after possessing their own Rings of Power under the corruption of Sauron with his Ring. It would not necessarily have this effect on the great Elf leaders because these individuals already exist in both the Seen and Unseen worlds. Indeed, in the case of Maiar like Gandalf and Sauron, the physical form is like raiment that they put on, as their natural form is to be invisible to the Seen world. Thus, when we see Sauron at the start of the movie wearing the Ring, he is not invisible. On the other hand, because a bearer of the Ring would cross over into the Unseen world, the use of the Ring would make the bearer more conspicuous to Sauron and to his servants who also exist in the Unseen world, the Nazgûl (who otherwise cannot see as clearly by themselves in the Seen world). But I must cut my digression short here simply to say that I think this aspect of showing what the Ring does rather than telling what it does works in this case.
I also think the scene showing the transformation of Isengard effectively conveys visually the transformation that has taken place within Saruman. His realm was once one in which there was much natural beauty and respect for creation, and Treebeard will later say that Saruman once used to walk through Fangorn Forest and enjoy it. But now he has a mind of metal and machines for which the trees are nothing but expendable fuel. He is now run solely by this destructive industrialist instinct, which has the effect of making his realm resemble Mordor. And like his own master, he is now so thoroughly callous toward the world of creation that he uses it as fuel to make his own perverted abomination: the Uruk-hai, whose appearances and noises convey a perverse mixture of humanoid and beast. And he even looks on with satisfaction as the first thing the original Uruk-hai (named Lurtz, though this is never said in the movie) kills an Orc as his first act after being birthed by this perverse process.
Flight to the Ford
Like with the scene at Amon Sûl earlier, the state of Frodo on his way to Rivendell is another contributor to his overall relative passivity. Book Frodo was weakened by his Morgul wound, but he could still walk and occasionally ride on a horse. On the last leg of the trip for which he is conscious, he rides alone on Asfaloth across the Ford. Movie Frodo is scarcely capable of moving and needs to be carried. He does not even have an opportunity for his great moment of defiance on the other side of the Ford. Too often at key points like this, Frodo is simply being carried along and acted upon by other agents in the story rather than being one braver than he realizes who perseveres through his suffering and thereby takes a more active role in shaping his fate.
At this point, Arwen enters the movie in the beginning of her more expansive role. She is the one who meets the company on the road, instead of Glorfindel (Sir Not-Appearing-in-This-Film). Her appearance to Frodo is more like how I think she should have appeared in my suggested flashback, but I suppose it works here for her character being an almost angelic presence calling Frodo back to the light. We see already how Aragorn tries to be protective of her, but Arwen is the more reasonable one and the one more expressly confident in her ability to get Frodo to Rivendell without dying. She does just that in an intense chase scene, the likes of which usually do not take place on horses outside of The Mask of Zorro. At the Ford of Bruinen, she faces down the Nazgûl on Frodo’s behalf and she is the one who calls upon the river so that it turns into a cavalry of horses that sweep the Nazgûl and their steeds away (which will lead to them acquiring new mounts in TT). Elrond and Gandalf do the latter in the book, but I suppose it works for the daughter of Elrond to have the same kind of power with this river and to be able to use it at need. In general, I think it is fine that Arwen has gotten an expanded role here taking over actions of Glorfindel, Elrond, and Gandalf, but I still wish that Frodo’s actions had not been so thoroughly sacrificed for her sake. He could have been weakening and they could have reasoned that she needed someone to ride with him on the last leg of the journey just in case, and he could have even kept his moment of defiance as he could have shouted this line from the book after Arwen’s line: “By Elbereth and Lúthien, you shall have neither the Ring nor me!” Then he could have fainted—again like in the book—and the scene could have progressed as it did. In any case, the scene ends with a nod to the fact that Arwen does pass on the grace given to her to Frodo, though it is recontextualized because in the book it is towards the end where Arwen gives her place on the ship headed to Aman.
To say a bit more about Glorfindel’s omission, it fits with the general tendency of the movies. With the exception of Bill the pony, no named individual character is introduced in FOTR that does not appear in one or more of the following movies. Even Barliman Butterbur is not known by name in the movie, but they could get away with that with him being a barkeep, whereas they could not have avoided naming Glorfindel due to his significance in the story. Glorfindel in the book does not leave Rivendell after this, except to join Elrond’s company for the wedding of Arwen and Aragorn. But since that retinue is not in focus in ROTK, he is rather easily extractable from the story, though not from the world-building (which the books are better suited for anyway).
Recuperation at Rivendell
As for Rivendell, my goodness is it gorgeous. It is an idyllic setting with exquisite fluid architecture radiating a sense of welcome, comfort, hospitality, and safety. Unlike Bree, this feels like a place where we want to spend plenty of time, and relative to the rest of the movie, we do spend plenty of time here, like the Fellowship does. It is almost literally out of an Alan Lee painting, though it seems to me like it should be larger. But that is a minor nitpick for this stunning setting.
The crucial scenes of dialogue between Frodo and Sam followed by Gandalf and Elrond have no equivalents in the book. The previous meetings were adapted from the first chapter of Book II, “Many Meetings,” but there is no equivalent in the movie of the feast scene of that chapter. The function remains basically the same of giving the audience a quiet moment to collect ourselves, to see characters reunite after Frodo’s brush with death, and to do some catching up (although, e.g., Gandalf explicitly recounts his escape from Orthanc in the Council, as opposed to its placement beforehand in the movie). There is also some world-building added in the book equivalent that is absent in these scenes. Part of this depended on the connection of this story with The Hobbit, and so it makes sense that Jackson and co. would cut that much, but we also do not get the information on Rangers, simply because no other Ranger of Arnor is going to be featured in these movies besides Aragorn. The most material we get in this respect is Elrond summarizing the stakes and the peril the Free Peoples are in, which also leads him to talk about the weakness of Men.
The movie gives a more dramatic presentation of Elrond taking Isildur to the Cracks of Doom to destroy the Ring, which Isildur refuses to do at the last minute. In the movie, this is simply implied to be a result of his desire, whereas in the book he at least states that it is a weregild for his father and his brother. This in itself is not so much a contradiction as a change of focus in this scene, but the book does not feature Elrond leading Isildur up the mountain. It is simply said that Elrond and Círdan—who stood by Gil-galad as Isildur had stood by Elendil—counseled him to destroy it and that Isildur would not listen. In both cases, the equivalent scenes still achieve the same end of demonstrating how the Ring exploited a weakness in the will of Isildur to continue its existence. Elrond was ultimately unable to stop him, since attempting to do so would have led to war between Men and Elves. But while Men will not have the responsibility of bearing the Ring, they will have a chance to change Elrond’s view of them, provided that one man becomes who he was born to be. This scene is then immediately followed by a scene that provides hints of contrast that will be elaborated on later between different (but not totally so) models of Men.
This is also the point in the movie where we are introduced to one of my favorite performances in the trilogy: Sean Bean as Boromir. Boromir is one of the more ambiguous characters, on the one hand a near-perfect embodiment of a traditional knightly hero, and on the other hand a man driven by conflicting forces of pride, loyalty, desperation, desire for power, and honor. He is undoubtedly a strong and courageous man that you want on your side in a fight, but his conflicting desires give him a divided mind and an impure heart. The division within himself eventually leads to the division of the Fellowship itself. Bean does an incredible job presenting the audience with a balanced picture of Boromir as a stout-hearted, honorable, and likeable fellow, even as he is progressively becoming more tortured in his mind regarding his aims in the Fellowship. Even his submission to the temptation to take the Ring for himself does not ultimately make him a villain, nor would it feel right for it to be so, given his character in the rest of the movie.
We see a different kind of conflict taking place in Boromir when he has his first scene with dialogue after he looks at the painting of Isildur and Sauron (which was a painting by Alan Lee). He has his first vague indication that there is something special about Aragorn, whose name he does not know yet. He is courteous enough to exchange friendly greetings with him, but his mind is clearly focused on other things, such as seeing the deep lore of his kingdom in this faraway land. He even sees the shards of Narsil and marvels at its sharpness after these many years. But he is unnerved at Aragorn’s stare, and he dismisses Narsil as “no more than a broken hilt” before letting it fall to the ground. He stops and thinks for a second about picking it up, but he moves on instead. This scene subtly establishes a key aspect of Boromir’s character before it moves on to highlight key aspects of Aragorn’s character. Boromir is the consummate proud man of Gondor and knows something of its past glory, but the Gondor he knows now is far removed from that glory, and he cannot escape the feeling that he will see its end. He fears that all of its sacrifices, including his own sacrifices, will come to naught. This internal struggle, along with the factors I already mentioned, lead to the Ring’s temptation being especially strong for him as he thinks it is a powerful weapon capable of defeating the Enemy with his own power, delivering Gondor once and for all, and restoring it to its former glory, if only the right hand would wield it.
Of course, this scene also builds upon Aragorn’s character. Even more so than in the book—or so it seems to me—Aragorn struggles with being Isildur’s heir, thinking it is inevitable that he will repeat the mistakes of his ancestor. He knows his lore and his history (especially concerning his family), and he remembers and acknowledges his heritage, but he denies his inheritance. He would rather go on being a wandering warrior than the King of Men entrusted with power to do great good or great evil (a point he further emphasizes in the Extended Edition in a short scene when Elrond speaks to him about his deceased mother, Gilraen, as he visits her statue). This is one major reason why the Ring has no strong hold on him. Because Arwen loves him, she acts as a kind of guiding angel for him, easing his doubts about his path in life, and reminding him of what he must do. She serves as both encourager and motivation for him to come into his own. While Elrond’s statement to Aragorn that he will not have his daughter marry anyone less than the King of Gondor and Arnor is not in the movie, the point is present by implication. But we will get to that later. For now, it is enough to know that Arwen is essential in more than one way to Aragorn overcoming his internal conflict and that this will continue to play out over the trilogy.
In the next scene we get Aragorn and Arwen talking about their first meeting, what has changed since then, and what has not changed since then. This scene shows how this couple is in the later stages of their relationship, looking back on a long history. We may not get to see that history, but it says much about their relationship. Aragorn is protective of her and his love for her would see them parted for all time if it meant she would be safe and know a joy other than what Middle-earth could give her. But Arwen, despite having multiple chances to decide otherwise, chooses to give up the immortality that naturally belongs to the Elves and take up the mortal life, with all of the weakness, grief, and sorrow thereby entailed, if it means she can be with him. Because they are in such a late stage of their relationship, we do not see much development of their relationship as the trilogy goes on, so that the drama comes from maintaining the relationship. This contrasts with the terrible and undeveloped love story of Kili and Tauriel that I criticized so incessantly in my Hobbit reviews. There is no history there to fall back on; there is nothing in their story that fundamentally shapes them and, as a result, the grander story in any good fashion. The lack of development in that case is inexcusable because we are dealing with a relationship from its very beginning. But I have already been through that in fairly extensive detail, while I will have further occasion to comment on the qualities of Aragorn and Arwen’s relationship in the trilogy (which I think is effectively adapted, even if Jackson and co. cut themselves off from utilizing other resources from the book to construct this story). In short: Aragorn + Arwen=good; Kili + Tauriel=terrible.
The Council of Elrond
As one would expect, the Council of Elrond in the movie is significantly shorter than the one in the book, though it maintains its central importance of establishing what must be done with the Ring, that Frodo will be the one to take it to Mount Doom, and who is part of his Fellowship, while giving us impressions of a set of new characters (Legolas, Gimli, and Boromir) that will join the Quest from this point. The stories told in connection with the Ring are omitted, which I suppose the filmmakers justified by condensing such issues into Elrond’s statements about how the fate of the Ring affects all of the Free Peoples, which they expect the audience to grasp even without its thorough demonstration in the book counterpart. The options and the discussion of them are also significantly reduced from the book counterpart, which is in part due to the omissions the movie has made thus far (such as not mentioning Tom Bombadil). But there is much that is consistent of course, even if the lines are changed, such as the antipathy between the Dwarves and the Elves, Boromir’s skepticism of Aragorn and defensiveness of Gondor and its thankless work in keeping other lands safe, and the acknowledgment of Aragorn as Isildur’s heir. The Extended Edition also adds a scene that is consistent with the book, wherein Gandalf recites what is inscribed in the Ring in the Black Speech from which it is taken, and the light of the day darkens as it does in the book. In short, the movie’s version of the Council of Elrond is functional with a few memorable moments (especially Boromir’s monologue on what Mordor is like, which is exclusive to the film and was written the night before the scene was shot, which is why Boromir begins the scene looking down), and a fitting execution of the central point of Frodo having his decisive moment in taking the burden of the Ring upon himself before all these great people of Middle-earth, but the scene is not the exemplary exposition that the book’s version is, which I do not suppose it really could have been, given how long the book counterpart is. Apart from those general remarks, I have a few details to emphasize.
When Elrond makes his introductory remarks and tells the members of the council, “You’ve been summoned here,” it is an unfortunate reduction of an interesting line from the book:
That is the purpose for which you are called hither. Called, I say, though I have not called you to me, strangers from distant lands. You have come and here met, in this very nick of time, by chance as it may seem. Yet it is not so. Believe rather that it is so ordered that we, who sit here, and none others, must now find counsel for the peril of the world.
This line is a keen reminder of the motif of providence, of the one who is always present but (almost) never named, that is present throughout the books. It also further underlined the significance of the Council that it was so orchestrated that representatives of the Free Peoples all over Middle-earth should happen to arrive at the same place at the same time to find that they all have common cause for concern behind their various specific problems without needing a call from Elrond to gather as they have. The summons thus becomes more of an impulsion from within rather than an invitation or imposition from without. Gliding over this point seems like a missed opportunity to be suggestive of the higher reality of Middle-earth without being too direct.
Boromir’s last words to Aragorn in the Council, after he finds out who he is, are “Gondor has no king, Gondor needs no king.” This establishes an arc at the end of which Boromir will acknowledge Aragorn as his king with his dying words. However, it is different from the book, where Boromir is less defiant of Aragorn when he realizes who he is, because he is a man of honor and loyalty. While the temptation of the Ring would no doubt play on his ambition so that it would make sense he would have a desire to supplant Aragorn or ignore his claim, it is never as blatant as it is in the movie’s version of the Council or at another point later in the movie. This change is not necessarily good or bad, and the movie justifies it by the wonderful scene at the end to complete Boromir’s arc in a way that keeps it consistent with the spirit of the book, but I thought it was worth mentioning.
I suppose it might simply be a trope of council meetings in movies by now, but the Council ends up devolving into cacophonous bickering. Again, this is not in the book. There are contentious moments, but it never results in what it does in the movie. What redeems this decision, though, is how this bickering leads to Frodo seeing the reflection of the Council’s infighting in the Ring while Sauron’s voice overlays the scene. This reflects a point that the book makes more often of how Sauron turns his enemies against each other as his chief means of weakening them. For that, I am willing to allow the otherwise overused trope.
This scene also begins the arc of Legolas and Gimli’s relationship, which I think is lacking in some ways compared to the books (especially in that we do not get a hint of how they get along after the Quest), even if it is a good adaptation. Gimli starts off being rather strongly antagonistic toward Legolas (more than he was in the book) by saying that he would be dead before he saw the Ring in the hands of an Elf. This may be over-the-top, but I still prefer it to the stupefying backstory in The Hobbit and its results played out over the course of that trilogy. It clearly conveys that the antagonism is of an all-too-common type, one borne from mutual misunderstanding, suspicion, alienation, enmity, and (on occasions) even outright bloodshed. In any case, the way the scene plays out, I think we can infer that the scene still conveys something important from the books in that it implies the hostility is amplified by the Ring—as the extension of Sauron’s malice and will to dominate—until Frodo calls everyone back to their senses by his unexpected bravery. As Legolas and Gimli express their mutual respect for him and join the Fellowship that accompanies him on the Quest, they are essentially forced together by their independent decisions into an uneasy alliance that will eventually grow into something much more.
The Fellowship is then filled out with the other three Hobbits. Although Sam barging in to volunteer himself is directly reflective of the book, the way that Merry and Pippin join the Fellowship is much more condensed from the conversations that happen in the book version. Again, this works for the necessarily quicker pacing of the movie, and it also makes sense in light of how Pippin is not as noticeably younger than his friends compared to the books, where he is eight years younger than Merry and twenty-two years younger than Frodo. But what is particularly interesting in the book version (especially in light of all the memes that poke fun at Gandalf’s relationship with Pippin in the movies) is that it is at Gandalf’s urging that Elrond ultimately allows Pippin to join the Fellowship.
At this point, Elrond makes a quick remark about how there are “nine companions.” This is a trimmed down version of a line that did not make it into the final draft, wherein Elrond commented on how these Nine Walkers are the counterparts to the Nine Ringwraiths. That line would have been taken directly from the book. But it was not so and became one of the bits of cut content that is not even available in the Extended Edition. But if anyone who has not read the book wanted to know why there were specifically nine members of this Fellowship, that is why, and an earlier draft of the script explicitly connected the dots that were connected in the book. But it is still something one can reasonably infer from the movie, since Elrond makes a point of mentioning the “nine companions.”
Leaving Rivendell
The last time we see Bilbo prior to the end of ROTK is in a scene where he equips Frodo for his Quest with his sword Sting and the mithril coat that Thorin Oakenshield gave him. What is more important about this scene is adapted from a scene that takes place earlier in the book in Rivendell. The movie version actually creates a more tragic mood than the book version, as the latter treats this scene as a passing shadow. Like the book version, the movie portrays Bilbo’s face becoming contorted to look like Gollum as he grasps for the Ring. But after that moment a rush of emotions and realizations come over Bilbo all at once as he reckons with what the Ring has done to him, as well as how he is responsible for Frodo’s predicament and the perilous Quest he must go on. Frodo begins consoling him, but the scene cuts before any hint of emotional resolution. It is simply allowed to hang over what follows. As this is the last time we will see Bilbo before the conclusion of the trilogy, I think this was an effective emotional gut-punch, knowing that this loving character came to Rivendell to enjoy a restful end of life, but also knowing that he has had to pass on his burden to the next generation, and there is nothing more he can do to help. He is in the best place for him to deal with his emotional turmoil, but he will not be completely free of it.
The Ring Goes South in the Winter
I like how the movie paid special attention to Boromir’s developing bond with Merry and Pippin. He trains them in sword fighting, protects them on Caradhras (and shows concern saying that staying on the mountain will be the death of the Hobbits), leaps over the gap in Moria with them in his arms, rides in the boat with them on the Anduin, and dies protecting them at the end of the movie in an amazing sequence I will address in more detail later. It is one of the understated aspects of his character arc that shows his underlying affability, reliability, loyalty, and heroism. We see it especially in that last scene and the reaction Merry and Pippin have to his death (especially Pippin due to circumstances he will not encounter until the third movie). It is part of what makes him a complex character and a glaring contradiction (among others) to the notion that Tolkien’s story and characters are morally simplistic.
The sequence on Caradhras accomplishes two purposes: 1) show Boromir’s first temptation post-Council and the effect it has on him; 2) show why the Fellowship had to go through Moria. It accomplishes both of these purposes well as Boromir’s temptation is properly unsettling (and it is made even more effective when the audience sees Aragorn’s hand on his sword just in case) and the frantic discussion on Caradhras quickly illustrates the futility of the other options and the danger of the Moria option. Of course, one should note that the scene with Boromir’s temptation is a film-only scene, but it is nevertheless accurate to Boromir’s characterization (and to Aragorn’s). The sequence is also notable for the change it makes in the cause for the trouble on Caradhras. In the book, it is ambiguous, as the trouble could be attributed either to some ancient evil force in Caradhras itself or to Sauron working from afar, possibly acting on information from Saruman, who resides much closer to Caradhras. The movie features Saruman himself acting to cause trouble on Caradhras for the Fellowship as a demonstration of the reach of his powers. Honestly, I think this change of simply being more direct and definite is fine. It is at least plausible by the standards of the book—even if not explicitly stated like in the movie—and it is an engaging way to accomplish the second purpose of the scene as Saruman was fine with letting them dare to take the path into Moria. (There is also a nice detail here consistent with the book counterpart of this scene where everyone else is trudging through the snow, but light-footed Legolas is able to walk on top of it.)
Turning to Moria
Before the Fellowship enters Moria, the movie includes a quick scene with Bill the pony. This is one inclusion that I think would have been best to leave out altogether. This is the first time he is ever referenced in the movie, even if he does appear in the movie before this, and having that first time be the point at which he is released simply raises questions rather than makes a connection. I suppose once Jackson and co. made sure to feature Bill, they needed a way of sending him out of the movies instead of just making him suddenly disappear, but I am not convinced this was necessary in light of how much else they left out. Bill in the book forged a deep bond with Sam—as Sam actually cared for the horse unlike his previous owner, Bill Ferny—and Sam was quite dejected to leave him behind, especially once he learned of the Watcher in the Water. As a comfort to Sam, Gandalf even speaks to the pony and encourages him to find his way back to safe haven. They also have a happy reunion after the end of the Quest, because it turns out Bill is a smart pony and found his way back to Bree on his own. Bill even gets a strike at his previous owner as he runs away in cowardice. Since all of these points were cut out of the movie, there was really no sense in keeping Bill in it at all. It is a token gesture in the direction of the book, but that is all it is. I wish at least some of the book material had been included in the Extended Edition, and this scene itself could have been saved as one of those exclusives for the Extended Edition. Instead, it is here as an orphaned scene separated from a larger story that gives it meaning.
One minor point to note in this same scene at the entrance of Moria is that it attributes an action to Frodo that the book does not, which is against the usual trend. It is Frodo who figures out that the inscription on the doors to Moria is a riddle, whereas the book has Gandalf figure it out by himself when given the time. I am not sure why they cut against the grain in this particular instance, but it is a minor point worth mentioning because of the unfortunate trend in the other direction, and it is worth noting that Frodo is not entirely robbed of agency.
The Shadow of the “Shadow”
The following scenes with the Watcher in the Water and the journey through Moria are fine and do not require much comment, and even the book says little about the Watcher. The scenes are broadly accurate to the book (though there is not a dramatic scene of seeing all the Dwarf skeletons at the entrance). I would be remiss, however, not to mention a chronological inaccuracy here. Gandalf says as they make their way up the stairs that it is four days’ journey to the other side. This misconstrues what is said in the book: “But going straight, without mishap or losing our way, we shall take three or four marches, I expect. It cannot be less than forty miles from West-door to East-gate in a direct line, and the road may wind much” (II/4; emphasis added). As it is, the Fellowship entered on the night of January 13 and left Moria on January 15 with enough time to get to Nimrodel by nightfall.
I noted earlier that some of the great lines from “Shadow of the Past” are transplanted at a later point in the movie, and this is that point. They are here because the scene is a quiet moment in the dark at a lull in the action, a time in which Gandalf is already in a reflective mode trying to figure out where to go. When Frodo notices something in the dark, Gandalf notes that it is Gollum, and he begins telling Frodo things about him that the book has him say in “Shadow of the Past.” He tells Frodo how all of Gollum’s desire is bent toward reclaiming his Precious and how he hates and loves the Ring just as he hates and loves himself. It is a twisted condition that demonstrates the potential fate for anyone who possesses the Ring long enough. Frodo thinks it was a pity that Bilbo did not end this miserable and treacherous creature’s life, but Gandalf insists that Frodo should not be too eager to deal out death in judgment, for even the wise cannot see all ends, and it is precisely Bilbo’s pity toward Gollum that could yet rule the fate of many. Most of the lines in this dialogue come straight from the book and they are among the most memorable quotes from the book because of their significance for the rest of the story and because of their powerful moral message about pity, the possibility of redemption, and providence.
Gandalf’s lines in this scene are slightly altered from “Shadow of the Past” and they are placed here to punctuate this scene prior to the continuation of movement and action. They are positioned in such a way that these are the last encouraging words Gandalf gives to Frodo, and thus their significance will continue to resonate with him. Two separate lines of dialogue are combined here, and I think it is best to do a direct comparison. In the movie, after Frodo says, “I wish the Ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened.” Gandalf replies:
So do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. There are other forces at work in this world Frodo, besides the will of evil. Bilbo was meant to find the Ring. In which case, you were also meant to have it. And that is an encouraging thought.
In the book the first line is what Gandalf says to Frodo after telling him that Sauron has arisen again (after Frodo says, “I wish it need not have happened in my time”) and the second part concerns Gandalf’s explanation as to how the strangest event in the Ring’s history—of Bilbo finding it blindly in the dark of a cave in the Misty Mountains—happened. When you combine the two lines, they look like this:
“So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.”…
“Behind that there was something else at work, beyond any design of the Ring-maker. I can put it no plainer than by saying Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, and not by its maker. In which case you were also meant to have it. And that may be an encouraging thought.” (I/2)
Except for the first part of the first line and what it responds to, the first line is practically identical in both iterations. The second line has been duly adapted because Gandalf is no longer concerned with recounting a past narrative to explain its impact on the present. But the heart of the thought—that there is another power at work which can be spoken of in the passive voice—is maintained so that one of the most important lines hinting at the role of providence is faithfully preserved and at a key point in the story. Finally, Gandalf’s line in the movie is distinctly designed to be encouragement (and so the second line has been affected through its combination with the first), so it is more definite in that regard than the more speculative/analytical book counterpart. As far as I am concerned, this is one of the most beautiful examples of how well these films adapt the books, not necessarily by preserving every letter, but by preserving its heart amidst the changes and rearrangement of the material.
Fighting in the Chamber of Mazarbul
The scene in the Chamber of Mazarbul is intensified from the book. Gandalf does not spend as much time reading the book, the music augments the ominous atmosphere, building to a crescendo of Pippin touching a Dwarf skeleton, which then falls down a well and makes an echoing crash (which happened earlier in the book with a rock rather than a skeleton and a chain, which befits the more immediate response necessitated by the compressed story for the film medium). The moment provides some tension relief given the timing and Gandalf’s reaction (which is accurate to the book), but then the tension picks back up as the drums sound, Frodo’s blade glows, and a frantic piece of music begins playing. While the fight in the Chamber is in the book as well, it is not as action-packed and more Orcs die in the movie version as well. The cave-troll plays a more central role in this action scene than he did in the book, where his arm and foot break through the door before he is forced to retreat when Frodo stabs him in the foot, which is more than Frodo did in the movie, unsurprisingly (with only two barely effective strikes at a hand). Still, I liked the greater role given to the cave-troll as it gave the Fellowship an enemy that they all had to work together to take down. This scene also collapses the time span before Frodo reveals that he has the mithril coat (in the book, Aragorn does not discover the coat until the Fellowship has left Moria). Finally, this scene does not provide Gandalf’s first, albeit veiled, encounter with the Balrog, as in the book. But for what it was in the movie, the adaptation process made this scene another high-quality one in a series of them. It gives us a sense of the capability of the Fellowship at full strength, which is a state that will not last.
The Bridge of Khazad-dûm
Yet what is most memorable about this part of the movie is not that battle, but the escape from Khazad-dûm that follows. The music swells with a blaring rendition of the Fellowship theme—the last time it will be delivered with this full orchestral power until ROTK—as the Fellowship flees from the Orcs swarming around them and the music transitions to reflect the peril of that pursuit. Then, just as the Orcs close in on the Fellowship, a roar in the distance spooks the Orcs, and it is their turn to flee in terror. As Gandalf tells—but the film does not yet show—what this terror from afar is (a Balrog of Morgoth), the music changes to one of my favorite pieces of music in the entire trilogy, at which point the real escape begins in earnest. The fast pace of the scene combined with the intense music (which includes a Polynesian male choir chanting Dwarvish), the mounting tension (built up incrementally with each new threat), and the danger of an obstacle that is not in the book (the broken stairway that everyone must leap across as it continues to break underneath them) while the Orcs shoot arrows at them all combine to create a compelling escape sequence that is better fit for the cinema than its book counterpart, which is not nearly as action-heavy or built with such enthralling escalation. The escape then climaxes with the revelation of the Balrog—one of the most iconic designs from the film—and Gandalf’s confrontation with it at the Bridge of Khazad-dûm. All of Gandalf’s dialogue is material kept from the book (including possibly another hint towards God as he is known in this story in terms of the Secret Fire), besides the famous exception of the most memorable delivery in the trilogy: “YOU SHALL NOT PASS!” This scene is perfectly executed and followed up with one of the more haunting musical pieces of the trilogy as the shock and sadness of losing Gandalf sets in on the Fellowship. This was quite possibly my favorite part of the whole movie as I think it represents the peak of the filmmakers’ skill in the adaptation process for this particular film by forming a riveting scene that was not as it was in the book.
I would also like to make a few other comments before moving on to the next chapter. First, because of the changes made to how Gandalf falls, so that he is not immediately pulled off the bridge as in the book (but he instead lets go to discourage anyone from trying to save him, as Walsh notes in the commentary), it is interesting to think that Boromir was responsible for saving the Quest at this point. He is the one who prevents Frodo from going out on the bridge to attempt to save Gandalf. If Frodo had tried something in such a precarious situation, the Ring could well have been lost there. Boromir would later become a threat to the Quest and ultimately lead to the breaking of the Fellowship, but this action subtly reminds us of how heroic he is and how important he is to the Fellowship. Second, the departure to Lothlórien is streamlined in the movie as opposed to the book. In the movie there is no visit by Frodo, Sam, and Gimli to the Kheled-zâram, the Mirrormere, a sacred lake to the Dwarves to the east of Khazad-dûm. This is another good bit of worldbuilding in the book, but with the faster pace required by the movie, this would have been too much of a distraction that did not contribute to the overall plot. At most, it would have provided a point of reference for if the movie had kept Galadriel’s speech to Gimli. Third, the movie does well to indicate visually that this is the moment when Frodo began to think that he needed to continue his Quest alone. After they leave Khazad-dûm, he is walking off by himself and one could interpret it simply as him wanting to be alone with his grief for a bit, but the look he gives and the later context show that something else is going on here. He has seemingly just lost a dear friend who gave his life to protect him. As this Quest would continue, the danger would only increase for the rest of the Fellowship, and he did not want anyone else to die for him. And none of this is declared until later. This scene shows how a good actor and good direction can convey visually what an author can take longer to convey textually.
Aragorn also mentions here that by nightfall the hills will be swarming with Orcs. Unfortunately, the final version of the movie, even in the Extended Edition, does not make good on this warning, at least visually. There are production photos of a scene that was planned to adapt from the book the pursuit by the Orcs from Moria of the Fellowship into the woods, after which they are utterly slaughtered by the Elves. One can, of course, imagine this taking place offscreen, but it is not part of the script.
Lothlórien
Most of what I have to say about the Lothlórien sequence concerns smaller details and I would rather not spend too much time on what was omitted (since, as with Rivendell, the Fellowship spent a longer time here than the movie might suggest). One thing that was omitted that I missed, though, was Aragorn describing his love for this land and the special place it holds in his heart because he was engaged to Arwen on Cerin Amroth in the realm of her grandparents Galadriel and Celeborn. While I am not sure how they would have conveyed it in the movie (perhaps with a brief flashback and with Aragorn saying something about how his heart forebodes that he will never return here), the book strikes a beautifully tragic note at the end of this scene:
At the hill’s foot Frodo found Aragorn, standing still and silent as a tree; but in his hand was a small golden bloom of elanor, and a light was in his eyes. He was wrapped in some fair memory: and as Frodo looked at him he knew that he beheld things as they once had been in this same place. For the grim years were removed from the face of Aragorn, and he seemed clothed in white, a young lord tall and fair; and he spoke words in the Elvish tongue to one whom Frodo could not see. Arwen vanimelda, namarië! [Fair Arwen, farewell!] He said, and then he drew a breath, and returning out of his thought he looked at Frodo and smiled.
“Here is the heart of Elvendom on earth,” he said, “and here my heart dwells ever, unless there be a light beyond the dark roads that we still must tread, you and I. Come with me!” And taking Frodo’s hand in his, he left the hill of Cerin Amroth and came there never again as living man. (II/6)
I cannot help but wish that Jackson and co. would have done something with this scene from the book to add one more scene to the movie’s version of the love story of Aragorn and Arwen. (To be fair, the Extended Edition has a different kind of statement that could make the same indication when Galadriel says she and Aragorn will never meet again, although this is not accurate to the book, since she came to Aragorn’s coronation and his wedding with Arwen.)
As for what is in the movie, the first scene here that is striking to me is when Galadriel glances at each member of the Fellowship and the moment is strategically placed that when she says, “Yet hope remains while the Company is true,” she looks directly at Sam. While Frodo is the bearer of the Ring, Sam is the bearer of hope as the one who will be Frodo’s closest companion. This is yet another subtle acknowledgment that Sam is the chief hero of the story, even if Frodo is the main protagonist (which is not to say Frodo is not a hero, as even some early readers got wrong). If not for Sam’s stout heart and stubborn determination, the Quest could have failed at multiple points, especially in the crucial final approach. However, Sam has his own failing that I will address in detail later when I get to what I regard as the worst change the movies made to the books.
The Mirror of Galadriel
The scene with the Mirror of Galadriel is significantly condensed from its book counterpart not only in the vision of the Mirror, but also in what happens and what is said afterward. Sam does not participate here, as only Frodo looks into the Mirror and only sees the destruction and enslavement of the Shire before the Lidless Eye appears. While it removes the ambiguity of what times Frodo is glimpsing in his vision (or whether the future he sees is a future that will be or a future that could be) and reduces the vision down to the consequence that will most directly affect Frodo and his kin rather than a wider vision of the world, I think the changes here are fine. Galadriel’s statement to Frodo that she has seen the same as Frodo as the consequences of his potential failure would indicate to me that she did not so much see the Shire’s oppression, but whatever consequence resonated the most with the one who looks into it. And on that note, I do not think this scene addresses my earlier criticism about Frodo not showing as much regret in leaving the Shire as Sam. Frodo’s concern expressed here is a general one and while it is easy to empathize, it is not as substantive compared to what is in the book.
The famous scene of Galadriel’s transfiguration is accurate to the book with lines taken directly from it. The appearance is supposed to give the impression of her element of water. As Gandalf referred to himself as a servant of the Secrete Fire, which, in part, resonated with the fact that he bore the Ring of Fire, Narya, Galadriel bears the Ring of Water, Nenya. And thus her appearance seems as if she is a siren from the sea or some other power under the mysterious water. Unlike in the book, she does not really discuss her Ring of Power with Frodo, but Jackson and co. did a fine job in representing this correlation visually.
Interlude at Isengard
A brief interlude at this point brings us to Isengard. All scenes in Isengard that do not feature one of the members of the Fellowship are film-only insertions, but they usually provide different angles on events that are represented in the books’ narrative. In this case, the scene provides us another angle to Saruman sending his force of Uruk-hai to retrieve one of the Halflings who bears something valuable to him and to kill the others. This scene also shows us how his force is built and how it is armed (which the special features do well to explain as well). But what is especially interesting is how Saruman gets into the matter of the origin of Orcs when he speaks to Lurtz to get him to declare his allegiance. The origin of Orcs from Elves is briefly noted in the books as well. This does give us some brief but effective worldbuilding, while also effectively characterizing Saruman in showing how deep he has gotten into the dark arts and how far gone he is. After all, he sees himself as “perfecting” the torture and mutation that produced the Orcs from the Elves in the first place. (Though his own Uruk-Hai were made from Men and Orcs, not Elves, and Tolkien’s own ideas about how the Elves came to be changed over time, and what is said in the movie is still accurate to what is said in the books being adapted.)
Farewell to Lórien
I should also comment on the gifts given to the Fellowship in the Extended Edition. There are some differences, such as that Galadriel did not give Aragorn his sheath, since he did not have Andúril at this time, and she does not give Sam the box of earth (plus a seed), since he will not need it at the end of this trilogy (though he does get his rope). And while Merry and Pippin received silver belts in the book, here they receive Noldorin daggers. Unfortunately, cutting this scene means that there is no setup for the blade Merry stabs the Witch-King with in the theatrical version, but it is so quickly done, that I expect Jackson and co. did not expect the audience to notice. But what was kept in, and what was most important to the story, for the theatrical version was her giving the phial that can shine the light of Eärendil.
I already mentioned how Gimli’s relationship with Galadriel is truncated in content and significance from the books, but I am glad that the Extended Edition left something of it in this movie, as this is the point outside of combat that the dispositions of Legolas and Gimli toward each other begin changing. It also shows another aspect of Gimli—his deep respect and appreciation for beauty—that the movies do not convey after this point. Still, the Extended Edition conveys something of the strength of this relationship, as Gimli’s words about her as they enter Lothlórien ironically come true for him, as he becomes enchanted by her. I will also say that Gimli’s stammering in the scene where Galadriel and Celeborn give gifts to the Fellowship as he makes his request fits both with the book and with the changes otherwise made to his character to be more comical. Unfortunately, due to the physical limitations of trying to capture the scene on camera, we are only told of how Gimli asked for a golden hair from her head that he could encase in crystal, and she responds by giving him three. Of course, it is exceedingly difficult to make it clear visually through the camera that Galadriel and then Gimli are holding the three strands of hair (just try getting a clear video of you holding three strands of hair between your fingers as if passing them off to someone else), so it simply needed to be conveyed by narration. (The explanation for this action also goes back to days before the First Age and the contrast of Fëanor—smith of the three Silmarils—to Gimli in terms of purity of heart, which is also why Galadriel tells him that his hands will flow with gold, but gold will have no dominion over him. Thus, she gives him what she denied to Fëanor, even though Gimli did not ask for three strands of hair.)
The Breaking of the Fellowship
When the Fellowship arrives at Amon Hen, and after we get some foreshadowing from Gimli’s dialogue of what to expect in the next stage of the journey to Mordor (which is film-only but on point), we have the fateful scene that leads to the breaking of the Fellowship. Frodo has snuck off to be by himself to ponder what has happened, what he has been told, and what to do next. But he is not by himself, as Boromir insists that he should not be alone while giving himself the additional cover of being there to gather firewood. The dialogue between Frodo and Boromir is significantly condensed from the book counterpart, with some lines even being drawn directly from the book but still condensed (e.g., when Boromir asks, “What warning?” he does not even allow Frodo a chance to answer before he becomes more insistent). Wood does well to portray his growing suspicion of Boromir mixed with his underlying fear because he knows he is overmatched if Boromir tries to take the Ring by force. And Bean does well to present Boromir’s unraveling psyche, which is necessarily presented as faster-paced in comparison to the book, but it is hardly sudden, given how the movie has focused on building up to this moment in multiple shots and scenes since the Council (including an additional exchange between Aragorn and Boromir in the Extended Edition that is film-only), which allows for the same impact as the book through distribution across the film despite the needed condensation. To focus only on his parts of the exchange throughout this scene, he begins friendly and composed, but proceeds to subtly lose his grip on his composure as indicated in subtle cues in his voice, which is then followed by his first visible sign of frustration covered with his justification of wanting to defend his people, which he then tries to cover over with his calm request to “lend” him the Ring, after which he attempts to be more forceful in insisting that Frodo’s quest is futile and will end in his suffering and death, and finally he loses his composure and tackles Frodo and his insistence that the Ring should have been his and that he give him the Ring. As mentioned already, the lines are not the same, but this progression tracks with the book, although Boromir did not successfully tackle Frodo in the book. Once Frodo puts on the Ring to escape, Boromir curses him, thinking he will betray them. But then he falls to the ground and has the sense knocked back into him. This is also reflective of the book in what happened to Boromir with him coming back to his senses, as well as him being overcome with the realization of what he had done and calling for Frodo to come back. Bean once again delivers the emotion of this scene wonderfully in arguably his best scene of acting in the trilogy.
After Frodo’s confrontation with Boromir, his course toward his departure takes a decidedly different route than in the book (as does Boromir, since he does not return to the Fellowship’s camp). In this case, I think the changes are fine, except in one respect where I thought it could have been substantially improved by sticking closer to the book. In the book, while Frodo wears the Ring, he has a vision of the expanse of Middle-earth around him intercut with Sauron’s influence and the resulting war. Frodo becomes aware of the searching Eye and tries to avoid its gaze while an internal struggle takes place with conflicting voices, which could have been conveyed in the film with different voices overlaying the scene (with Gandalf, as it turns out, being the voice urging him to take it off, which would fit with a later scene anyway), rather than Sauron’s voice alone. The vision Frodo has could serve as a preview of things to come in the next two movies rather than simply being another replay of Frodo seeing the Lidless Eye as he did in Bree. (They did originally shoot the scene like in the book, but never finished the effect shots of what Frodo sees.) Otherwise, I am fine with the scene in which Aragorn encounters Frodo and accepts that Frodo must leave the Fellowship as previous scenes make sense of him having no desire for the Ring, although the encounter is film-only. His reluctance to take on the power of his kingly inheritance actually works to this end, but that is not to say sticking closer to his story in the book would have hurt either. And what is accurate to the book is Aragorn saying what he said in the book, namely that he would have gone with him to the end, though now he says it directly to Frodo. Of course, only the movie features Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli fighting the Uruk-hai here, which is a good choice given the need for an action climax here. Also, Merry and Pippin did not find Frodo before he left like they do in the movie—only Sam found him in the book—but that scene in itself works well to show the bond between these Hobbits that the former sacrifice themselves as a distraction despite not wanting to leave him alone. They are clearly in over their heads, and they have no idea that this decision will determine the rest of the course of their story, taking them where they never imagined going, but none of that would have mattered to them. They only know that Frodo needs help, and they will give him what he needs, even if he will not let them come with him any longer.
Away from the action, I must say that I like how Gandalf’s earlier words of encouragement to Frodo replay in his mind before he finally tries to set off on his own. The grammatical person changes from “us” to “you” in this line, as if Gandalf is now speaking from beyond to Frodo, reminding him of his words, but making it even more directly applicable to him. This, in some way, makes up for the lack of him hearing Gandalf’s voice in the vision earlier. I also love Sam’s pursuit of Frodo knowing that he can’t swim, but stubbornly insisting that he will go with Frodo or die trying. This is accurate to the book, though the drama of the scene is played up even more in the movie (and it was made even more dramatic behind the scenes when Sean Astin impaled his foot on a glass shard as he ran into the water during one take). Without his single-minded stubbornness at risk of his own life here, the quest would have failed. I am also glad that this whole sequence was one in which Frodo’s agency was preserved from making his resolution, to actively denying Merry and Pippin’s plea (which is an added decision), to saving Sam and thereby allowing him to save him later.
I am also glad that Jackson and co. came to their senses about what was once a more action-packed climax featuring an Uruk in an underwater struggle with Frodo until the former is captivated by the Ring and the latter is saved by Sam. It would not have fit the book, it would not have made sense in the context even of the movie, and what we actually got was so much better in every way, including its fidelity to the book. The filmmakers did have some restraint when it came to whether or not to feature action scenes.
Everything else about this ending apart from the storyline of Frodo and Sam was in TT in the books, but for the purposes of the movies it was important to resolve what happened with the rest of the Fellowship to lead into the next movie. By far the best aspect of this extension is the portrayal of Boromir’s last stand. I know some like to recite the overdone joke about how Sean Bean was picked for Boromir because he tends to die in his roles, but that does not matter. This scene was beautifully shot, scored, and performed, with all of the elements working together to create one of the best parts of the movie as Boromir fights with every last bit of effort to defend the Hobbits even as he is shot with multiple arrows, taking at least a score of Uruks with him before he expires, as he does in the book. Aragorn’s fight with Lurtz is, of course, film-only, as Lurtz is not a character from the book, but it is an effective way to dispatch this central Uruk-hai (complete with an accident caught on film of Viggo Mortensen needing to knock away an actual knife thrown at him that was not supposed to be that close). At the end of this scene, Boromir completes his character arc, repenting of what he did to Frodo and calling Aragorn, “My brother, my captain, my king,” whom he would have followed to the end (contrasting with his words at the Council and reflecting Aragorn’s own devotion to Frodo). Aragorn’s last words to Boromir also affirm that, while Aragorn may not necessarily want to be king, he will not abandon his people (of course, the books had it that Aragorn originally planned to go to Minas Tirith with Boromir after a certain point in the Quest, but remember that his character arc is different). The dialogue is not perfectly replicative of the book and even adds some, but it captures the spirit with which these characters part, accentuates Boromir’s respect for Aragorn more than the book, and it manages to give an extra emotional punch befitting the conclusion of one part (as opposed to the opening of another part, as with the book version). As Boromir is sent to his rest, Mortensen even adds a nice touch here of incorporating Boromir’s arm guards in signification of his promise and of honoring his kinsman in carrying this part of his armor for the rest of his journey. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli then pursue the Uruk-hai. Realizing they can no longer help Frodo directly, they decide to save the other members of their Fellowship. Thus, the Fellowship has been broken for the duration of the Quest, but it has not utterly dissolved and it has not failed (indeed, the Quest most likely would have failed if the Fellowship had not broken). And with this stirring, anticipation-building conclusion, FOTR succeeded—at a time when there was no guarantee that it would do so—in capturing the fascination of the world and ensured a faithful audience that would return for the rest of the trilogy.