(avg. read time: 84–168 mins.)
We come to it at last: the greatest movie of my time. I do not care to be reserved when I say that this is my favorite movie ever. It is an excellent climax of this excellent trilogy in every way. I love the action; I love the wild swings of emotion; I love the pacing (and yes, I know some do not); I love the beautifully rendered imagery and all the filmmaking prowess that has gone into it; and I love the care that has been taken to present great characterization and enthralling storytelling. That does not mean, however, that I do not find some problems in its adaptation work. And even though I think this is my favorite movie of the three, I also find in it what I regard as the worst change from the books (though it is an event in the TT book that has been carried over to this movie and changed).
The Beginning of the End
The opening scene is a flashback that is not in ROTK but was narrated in FOTR by Gandalf. The dialogue is not quite as extensive, but it is a faithful adaptation of a key moment in the history of the Ring when Déagol the Hobbit found the Ring at the bottom of the river and his cousin Sméagol killed him for it. The narration and acting are fine, but what I especially love about this prologue is the visual quality. It is fascinating to see Sméagol as someone who was once a regular, simple Hobbit before the Ring took hold of his mind. He is even in a brightly lit, peaceful setting, which then serves as the backdrop for his turn to the darkness as he fights with and murders his cousin and best friend. The montage that follows thereafter is typically in a dark backdrop that offers stark contrast to the first scene. Then we see Sméagol slowly transform, phase-by-phase—into what would become the skulking creature we see in the present.
The opening scene of Frodo and Sam is without a precise parallel in the book, but it is reiterating a theme that will come into play more near the end of this movie. Sam’s rationing of the lembas is based on his belief that there will be a journey home after the Quest is completed. He implied as much in his line during the scene with the Oliphaunt, but now here, even this far in the journey, he is stating this expectation outright. It will be interesting to note how this contrasts with later scenes.
First, substantial parts of the dialogue are drawn from the book version. Saruman speaks from the top of the tower instead of the balcony, as he does in the book, in order to facilitate his death, which I will comment on later. Saruman’s opening appeal to Théoden is a summarized version of his appeal in the book. Théoden’s reply is likewise a summarized version of his reply in the book; in fact, it is mostly word-for-word of a certain part. Saruman is not as diplomatic to Gandalf as he is in the book; indeed, he begins confrontationally with a slightly altered expression of scoffing at Gandalf’s apparent arrogance, mentioning the keys of Orthanc and Barad-dûr along with the crowns of seven kings and the rods of the Five Wizards. Gandalf’s appeal is much more simplified from the book version, which I find to be a bit unfortunate because what replaces it misses the complexity of Gandalf’s position as he wishes to negotiate with Saruman, humbling him while also trying to show him mercy as one who was once a friend and could be again. Saruman’s final taunt to Théoden when the latter appeals to Gríma to come down comes more or less directly from the book in the first part, “What is the house of Rohan but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek, and the brats roll on the floor with the dogs?” His further taunt that victory at Helm’s Deep did not belong to him is not directly from the book, but it summarizes statements he makes there. All in all, the dialogue is an interesting mix of direct quotes, slightly altered quotes, and paraphrases that capture the essence of the lines in this scene.
Second, due to the more streamlined form of storytelling that is the film medium, there is no moment of doubt and wavering among the riders of Rohan. In the book, the wavering instilled among the Rohirrim for a short time was meant to illustrate that Saruman was still dangerous without his armies and the substantial part of his great magical power. But since such doubt and wavering would be a diversion that occupies the equivalent of a few seconds of film, I think it is fine that this particular feature of the scene was not included.
Third, we do not get the satisfying portrayal of Gandalf’s power over Saruman to the degree that we do in the book. Gandalf breaks his staff with a word, as he does in the book. However, there is not a point at which Saruman tries to leave and Gandalf calls him back, at which point Saruman is powerless to resist. I wish this part had been in the movie and it also would have provided a fine contrast to the scene right before Gandalf’s escape from Orthanc in FOTR to further illustrate the extra power that Gandalf has been granted.
Fourth, the deaths in this scene are also notable. The book has Saruman and Gríma die in the Shire during the chapter “The Scouring of the Shire.” I will comment more about that particular change to the book at the relevant place, but suffice it to say for now that I am fine with their deaths being here if they cut out that whole event in the Shire. The ways they die are basically reflective of the event in Hobbiton, anyway. Gríma stabs Saruman in the back (instead of cutting his throat, which probably would have got this movie the R rating in contrast to the consistent PG-13 and equivalents around the globe) and is then shot by Legolas, instead of by multiple Hobbit archers. The major differences with Saruman’s death are that he plummets down the tower (since he never put a parapet up there) to be impaled on a spike attached to the type of machinery he has given his mind to, which then turns to plunge him in the water, and he does not visibly “give up the ghost” as he does in a symbolically significant scene in the book. I think these changes are fine and are not so severe as to warrant criticism, unless one finds the removal of the Scouring of the Shire to provide this scene to be a sufficient ground for criticism in itself. The scene still fulfills the function of its book counterpart, the right person kills him for reasons as indicated in the book, and it gives us a fitting conclusion to the short character arc of Gríma—whose expression indicates that he would like to return to Rohan if not for his resentful subservience to Saruman (which, as Jackson indicated, included finishing off Théodred)—and the longer character arc of Saruman.
(This scene is also memorable for having possibly the most interesting behind-the-scenes story of any scene in the trilogy. Peter Jackson was trying to be a dutiful director by giving Christopher Lee detailed direction on how to act when Gríma stabs him in the back. He thought the realistic approach would be to have Lee give a dramatic scream in pain. But Lee corrected him, saying that being stabbed in the back like that essentially forces the air out of you, so the dramatic reaction would not work. Although he could not give details, Lee indicated to Jackson that he knew this from personal experience from his time with the precursor to the SAS in WW2. Thus, Jackson had no choice but to defer to Lee’s expertise, not push the matter further, and let him enact the scene in proper fashion.)
While Saruman’s death was excluded from the theatrical version with much regret, what was maintained was Pippin finding the palantír in the water. Unfortunately, the theatrical version leaves unclear how it got there, as maybe the audience is supposed to infer that someone threw it out of the tower at some point. The Extended Edition has it that Saruman was holding it, and it fell from the tower with him. The book leaves some ambiguity as to why, but it is Gríma who throws it out of the tower. In any case, it is consistent that Pippin retrieves it and becomes enticed by it, though the fruit of this enticement, as in the book, does not come forth until later.
Return to Edoras
The subsequent commemoration of the dead of Helm’s Deep at Meduseld is film-only. It serves as the pleasant scene that sets up the more serious one that is actually drawn from the book (albeit, once again, from TT). The functional equivalent in the book is camping in the wilderness between Isengard and Helm’s Deep, during which Pippin tries to sneak a peek at the palantír. I actually like this change, because it provides the audience a brief respite in a victory celebration and commemoration of the victorious dead before we dive headlong into the more massive battle and darker times of this movie. For how Tolkien wrote the book, his version of the setting is perfectly fine. But given how the films have changed what events they narrate when, I like having something like this at the beginning of the third movie in celebration of the triumphs of the second movie. It is a bit over-the-top in the Extended Edition with the drinking contest between Legolas and Gimli (including a bit of Rhys-Davies’s improvisational riffing on a line from Jaws of all things, as mentioned in the writers’ commentary) and that kind of humor may not appeal to some people, but I enjoyed it all the same.
Gollum’s Plot
The next scene provides us with the last gasp of conflict in Sméagol is also film-only, although it is based on actual material from the book. As I have noted before, this scene is not so much him wavering as to whether or not he wants to be good or whether or not he considers Master his friend. Instead, he is now wavering because he thinks they suspect his plot to kill them. But even that conflict in his will does not last for long, as it virtually disappears a few sentences later. Sam actually wakes up to hear him discussing the plot with himself. He does not hear everything, but he hears enough to know that he is leading them to someone who would eat them. Frodo does not hear this, however, and this will prove to be a further wedge between them as the plot unfolds. In principle, this might prove a fine idea for an addition, but only if Jackson and co. had followed the storyline of the book. If they had, it could have turned out that Sam’s partial knowledge of the plot and the suspicion that is born from it would only serve to help him push Sméagol past the point of redemption at the very time when Sméagol might have come closest to repenting of that plot. But with what they do instead, this will turn out to be a bad decision. I will explain why later.
The Palantír
The scenes that emphasize Pippin obsessing over the palantír reflect the book well enough (I will say the palantír should probably be bigger than it is, though this is based off of information in Unfinished Tales). He does not have the dialogue with Merry about Gandalf and the object, as in the book, because this aspect of the story is told in a mostly visual manner. In place of that dialogue, the movie accentuates the sense of foreboding by juxtaposing this action by Pippin with a shot of Legolas telling Aragorn about the unease of what he is sensing from Mordor (there is also a nice detail of Gandalf sleeping with his lids “not fully closed”; III/11). This scene also does not feature any lines from Sauron beyond, “I see you,” which is a callback to FOTR. Pippin is briefly put in a catatonic state, as he is in the book, but the film version differs by having Pippin see the White Tree in a courtyard of stone ablaze. This change is introduced to resolve a question presented early in the movie—more explicitly in the Extended Edition—as to where the Enemy will strike next. This is not really a question in the book, as it is presumed that Sauron will attack Minas Tirith eventually. There is also more deliberation after this scene in the movie version than in the book. In the book the situation becomes too urgent for such a scene due to the sighting of a Nazgûl in the sky.
Dreaming of the Great Wave
Another short scene that is interspersed with Pippin’s restlessness over the palantír is an Extended Edition-only scene that is nevertheless interestingly reflective of an element of Tolkien’s mythology. As Aragorn covers Éowyn with a blanket, she grabs his hand and tells him about a dream she had of a great wave climbing over green lands and hills. She stood looking over it, and it was utterly dark in the abyss before her feet. There was a light behind her, but she could not turn. She could only stand there, waiting. While Éowyn does not have this dream in the books, the language is drawn mostly from Faramir’s description of his dream to Éowyn (VI/5). It is a dream that recalls the fate of Númenor, the island kingdom that was the greatest of all the realms of Men and the one whence came the Men of Gondor and Arnor. Númenor was the Atlantis of Tolkien’s story, as its fate was also to sink into the sea after a great cataclysm. Éowyn is actually a descendant of the Númenóreans on her mother’s side, so it would make sense for her to have this dream of her people, even if it is never actually narrated in the book. This dream is also noteworthy for being reflective of a recurring dream of Tolkien himself, which was in turn the inspiration for his story about the Downfall of Númenor (Letter #257). All of this is rather small in the context of the movie and the trilogy as a whole, but I enjoy these small bits of creative fidelity to Tolkien’s mythology, and it is scenes like this that enhance the quality of the Extended Editions by deepening the lore.
Théoden’s Resentment
I already mentioned before how I did not like the false conflict of Théoden with Gondor in the previous movie. Unfortunately, it continues here, at least for a little while. It makes Théoden needlessly petty and even downright senseless when one remembers that we have no reason to think that he ever sent requests for aid to Gondor and every reason to think that he did not. I know it is supposed to create suspense about whether the Rohirrim will help Gondor in the end. But besides the negative impact it has on the characterization of Théoden, the other problem with this decision in writing it is that it is difficult to create true suspense that draws in the audience in circumstances like this when one of the characters is so unsympathetic in his concern when one thinks about it on this level.
The Choice of Lady Arwen
Now we cut back to some film-only scenes of Arwen. Arwen’s determination to stay for Aragorn is renewed when she has a vision in a forest of a little boy that is progressively revealed to be Aragorn’s son and hers (as shown by his possession of the Evenstar, which is more of a focus in the movies, and which is strangely broken in a scene in the Extended Edition). She confronts Elrond about this vision, being sure that he has seen it as well. She then tries to convince him to reforge the sword of Narsil shown in the first movie. He initially refuses until an interesting moment occurs in which Elrond realizes that her choice has been finalized, that she will accept the fate of mortals like her ancestor Lúthien before her. Although it is not stated in the movie, this is Arwen making a different choice than Elrond when he was offered the same between the fates of mortals and immortals, given that he himself would not even exist if not for two previous such unions of Elf and Man. Since there is nothing he can do to convince her otherwise, he determines that he might as well reforge the sword and thereby help Aragorn become what he rightfully is. Although I appreciate Jackson and co. trying to work Arwen into the story more extensively, I still wish they had done so in ways that remained more faithful to her story in the book (whether from the main story or from the appendix). Even so, this sequence still indicates well how essential Arwen is to the story of Aragorn.
Also, the means by which this sequence ties into the larger story is the reforged sword, renamed Andúril, Flame of the West. This was Aragorn’s sword in the books, which he received while the Fellowship was staying in Rivendell. It was another token of his kingship, given in anticipation of him realizing his destiny. I quoted the scene previously in TT when he used it to demonstrate his heritage to Éomer, which was obviously not paralleled in the film version. In fact, the Extended Edition of FOTR features a scene in which Elrond offers to reforge the sword for Aragorn, but he refuses. This is part of Aragorn’s film-only character arc, in which he lives in constant denial of his destiny to be the King of Men, in large part due to his fear of repeating the sins of his ancestor, Isildur. Since this part of his characterization has changed, it was pretty much inevitable that Andúril’s role would change. The one potential outlier in this tendency is Aragorn’s ring—the Ring of Barahir—which he arguably keeps more as a family heirloom and gift from his mother, rather than as a token of his kingship.
Minas Tirith
When the story shifts back to Gandalf and Pippin, they soon arrive at Minas Tirith, City of Kings, capital of Gondor, and the mightiest stronghold of the Free Peoples of Middle-earth. As far as I am concerned, this is the greatest of sets, miniatures, CG models, and settings in general in these movies (its design was inspired by the likes of Mont-St.-Michel in France, St. Michael’s Mount in Cornwall, and Tuscan architecture, among others). It took 100 people six months to build the sets for this place, using the Helm’s Deep set as a foundation. It is a wonder to behold, a massive seven-leveled city built into and around Mount Mindolluin at the eastern end of the White Mountains. It looks like a city that is nigh unassailable, as it should look. (The outer wall should be made of the same material as Orthanc, which it is apparently not, given how the catapults affect it later in the movie, but that is a minor negative.) At the same time, there seem to be subtle touches in its appearance that comport with the symbolism of the White Tree (the design for which was based on old olive trees like those you can find on the Mount of Olives in Israel). It has the appearance of faded glory, an ancient wonder that now stands as a memorial to its own past (not unlike late Constantinople). It has suffered decay already, but hope remains—ever so dimly—that it may be rejuvenated again. Gandalf’s monologue on Gondor, borrowed as it is from Faramir’s in TT, will say more about this later.
For now, there are a few other things to note about this arrival at Minas Tirith. There is no initial encounter with Ingold, a guardian of the Rammas Echor, as a way to introduce the audience to residents of Minas Tirith (or the surrounding area) and the state of affairs there. This is not surprising, since Ingold is a minor character in the last part of a trilogy. While a book or series of books can introduce new minor characters ad infinitum at almost any point in a story, a movie trilogy has more constraints of expectation in that regard. It is also notable that there is no Rammas Echor, the encircling wall of recent vintage that was meant to provide an outer perimeter defense of Minas Tirith. It was built by Ecthelion II, Denethor’s father, and it was being repaired on the order of Denethor. One aspect of this Rammas Echor was the Causeway Forts, which guarded the eastern road from Minas Tirith to Osgiliath, and thus represented a causeway to Minas Tirith. Again, I am not surprised that the Rammas Echor did not make it into the movie because of how ineffective it was against the armies of Mordor. It was practically an ancillary feature that had some significance in the deeper storytelling of the book (especially in how the Lord of the Nazgûl failed in directing his armies to defend the wall because he did not expect the Rohirrim to come), but it is not strictly necessary to the more condensed story told by the movie. Oddly, though, the southern gate of the Rammas Echor is a level in the official video game adaptation. I am not entirely sure why that decision was made (but I thought it was a fun level in the game). It is also possible, but not certain, that when Théoden is giving instructions and he tells Grimbold to take his company right after he passed the Wall, he could be referring to the Rammas Echor that is not there.
Denethor
Anyway, there is one new character introduced here who requires discussion: Denethor, the Steward of Gondor, played by John Noble. I must note again that any problems that I have with the adaptation are not due to Noble himself; he is exemplary with the material he is given. His mannerisms convey well someone who is on the verge of utterly unraveling in despair and madness, while also being tinged with bitterness that these days should be his. However, Denethor is written in such a way that he is almost unsympathetic, save for his mourning for his son Boromir (who was clearly his favorite in both the book and the movie). He is less competent of a leader than his book counterpart. He makes no plans and gives no instruction on the defense of his city, except for the one suicide mission, which I will address later. In the book Denethor is a respectable leader and attentive ruler, and he is more kingly than many of his predecessors. He has been inclined more and more to despair, but he is not nearly as far along as his movie counterpart at the same point in which they are introduced. Even if he thinks the efforts are in vain (whether because he knows the relative size of Sauron’s forces or because he does not trust his allies), he still calls for aid from the rest of Gondor and Rohan.
The book gives the distinct impression that Denethor is a learned man, well-versed in the lore of his kingdom. Yet in his quest for knowledge and wisdom, he falls into Sauron’s trap, much like Saruman and by the same means. Although his will was too great for Sauron to dominate without the One Ring, he was nevertheless able to corrupt Denethor’s mind through his power over what he was could see in the palantír. Denethor thus gained more knowledge of the affairs of Middle-earth, but more and more he saw them through lens of Sauron’s influence and thus despaired. When he was devastated at receiving the news of Boromir’s death, he was all too easily subdued into believing the worst of everything he saw. The movie hints at this feature of his story when Denethor shows that he is aware of more than he should be with a line borrowing from statements of his in Book V Chapter 7 (“The Pyre of Denethor”) after he reveals his use of the palantír. The Extended Edition adds to this dialogue hint when it shows the palantír in Denethor’s hall sitting by the steps of the king’s throne (rather than in the Tower of Ecthelion, where it was in the book). However, it is not explicit in either case.
Another fascinating feature of Denethor’s story that appears in an appendix of LOTR is his personal conflict with Aragorn. While the Extended Edition of TT briefly references the fact that Aragorn rode into battle with Thengel, Théoden’s father, the Extended Edition of ROTK does not reference the fact that Aragorn also fought for Denethor’s father, Ecthelion (albeit in the book he does so under the name of Thorongil). The people of Gondor loved and respected Thorongil more than Denethor, and his own father expressed a great deal of trust in and affection for him. Naturally, the prideful Denethor grew envious of this stranger and, unlike everyone else, did not miss him when he departed. This even serves as something of an ironic echo with the fact that Denether will treat his own sons with favoritism towards one in spite of how he knew it felt when he believed his own father favored a stranger. The movie version maintains the pride element of Denethor’s resistance to Aragorn’s possible ascent to the throne and it works in the context of the story, but it is not as layered as the book version.
I guess that statement summarizes well the comparison between these different versions of Denethor. The movie version is functional, albeit nearly unsympathetic, and there are still subtextual layers to his relationships, while the book version is all around more complex and interesting. Of course, at least some of that disparity in quality is due to the differences in the media of the characters, and I do not necessarily wish to fault the movie for only hinting at the depths of his character in relation to his sons, and their relationships with him, not to mention his late wife they never talk about. But I think a few adjustments here and there could have made a significant difference, like a slightly expanded equivalent of the reference to Théoden’s memory of Aragorn with the added note that Denethor was sure his own father favored him over his own son.
The State of Minas Tirith
In any case, after Denethor’s introduction, Gandalf describes Minas Tirith and Gondor as a whole to Pippin in an Extended Edition-only scene. He tells Pippin that the Citadel Guard are guarding the dead White Tree because they have a faint and fading hope that it will bloom again at the coming of their king. He then explains to Pippin what caused the city’s decay:
The old wisdom borne out of the West was forsaken. Kings made tombs more splendid than the houses of the living, and counted the old names of their descent dearer than the names of their sons. Childless lords sat in aged halls musing on heraldry, or in high cold towers asking questions of the stars. And so the people of Gondor fell into ruin. The line of kings failed. The White Tree withered. The rule of Gondor was given over to lesser men.
Most of this description comes from lines of Faramir in Book IV Chapter 5. But it also fits as an introduction to the state of Minas Tirith and Gondor when the films first spend a substantial amount of time there. However, I am not sure why one line of Gandalf’s not included above was left in the movie. He says the city has stood for a thousand years. That is underselling the age of the city by over 2,000 years. I honestly cannot figure out why such a change was made, especially since we saw Gandalf consult Isildur’s writings in Minas Tirith after Galadriel had said in her opening narration that the Ring was lost for two-and-a-half thousand years before Gollum claimed it. It had gone by the name Minas Tirith for just over 1,000 years, but it was known as Minas Anor (Tower of the Sun) for over 2,000 years before that.
Missing Gondorians
I might as well mention now that the movie foregoes introducing two characters that are significant in the book: Beregond and Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. Beregond is a guard of the Citadel who is assigned to help Pippin when Pippin swears an oath of service to Denethor (which the Extended Edition reflects well in how Pippin tells Denethor about Boromir’s death). He (along with his son, Bergil) gives Pippin an insider’s perspective on Minas Tirith and Gondor outside of the nobility. He is like Boromir in the friendship he forges with this Hobbit, but he is intensely loyal to Faramir, to the point of violating laws with capital punishments in his effort to save Faramir from being immolated along with Denethor. Although he is a character that I wish I could have seen in the film adaptation to deepen the connection of the audience to Gondor and to enhance the character of Faramir by showing the loyalty he can inspire, I understand why he was not included. As significant as he is in the book, and as much as I would have loved to see him featured, he is not so necessary to the basic plot that his most definitive action could not be replaced by a similar action from Pippin. However, as we will review later, the way in which it is done in the film would have made more sense if Beregond was included.
What then about Imrahil? Imrahil was a great prince and mighty warrior from Dol Amroth, a city we obviously never get to see in the movies. He came with a company of knights and 700 men at arms to aid the defense of Minas Tirith. He fought in the Siege of Gondor and the Battle of Pelennor Fields with distinction and briefly served as the interim Steward of Gondor prior to the final march to Mordor (during which he had to plan for the defense of the city in case this campaign failed). Like Théoden, he served as a contrast to Denethor in that he led his army from the front, working in the thick of the action. I think the movie was missing something like that from an actual Man of Gondor—as opposed to Gandalf working on the front lines—but I can understand why he was not included. As much as he helps to provide depth to Gondor, he is not strictly necessary to the plot.
Frodo and Sam at the Cross-roads
A brief scene of Frodo, Sam, and Gollum in the Extended Edition reflects a scene from TT, although it is altered slightly. Frodo and Sam arrive at the Cross-roads of the Fallen King. As in the book, the statue has been defiled with graffiti and the head has been removed and replaced with a rough stone mockery. The original head is lying nearby, and Frodo only notices it by the beams of the setting sun. When he sees it he says to Sam (in IV/7), ““Look! The king has got a crown again.… They cannot conquer for ever!” Sam is the one who says this in the movie version, but without the last part of the line for some reason. Thus, while the movie version is an otherwise faithful representation of this scene, the change in who says the line and the omission of the last part of the line diminish the relative quality of this scene. This scene at a literal crossroads has multiple layers of juxtaposition, only some of which are preserved in the movie. The path they must take to the east is contrasted with the sun setting in the west across the unsullied Sea. The sculpted monument to the ancient glory of Gondor in the form of one of its kings is now defaced and decapitated by those with much less skillful hands. The dishonored and disembodied head of that stone king now has a crown of flowers more glorious than its original one of stone. Frodo’s dread concerning the road he must travel is briefly subdued by the swelling of hope he experiences in seeing that this king has a crown again, against the will of the Enemy. In a tiny sight, Frodo remembers that, despite the great power of Sauron and his armies, they cannot conquer forever. He is able to see this inspiring vision of hope only because of the brief breakthrough of the setting sun on the edge of the realm of darkness. The brief nature of this vision is further underscored by the sun suddenly vanishing from sight and night falling upon the three companions. That brief flash of hope is all that Frodo will have to sustain him for some time hereafter. The movie has several of these features, but it is not as dark, Frodo’s disposition is not radically changed—if only for a moment—and the sight of seeing the king with the crown of flowers becomes more of a pleasant moment than a moment of clarity in defiance of the darkness of present circumstances.
The Missing Tinder Setting Off the Campaign
I was not sure where to place this note because this event’s place in the chronology of the book, the narration of the book, and the appearance in the film are significantly different. What brings about the timing of Sauron’s all-out assault on the Free Peoples, the main—but not only—part of which came against Minas Tirith, is the fact that Aragorn looks into the palantír of Orthanc and challenges Sauron. Unlike in the movies, this was the first time that Sauron knew for sure that Isildur’s Heir still lived. In his fear and hatred, Sauron launched his massive attack before his designs were fully realized. This explains the timing better than the movie, where Sauron has picked this time to attack because it might as well be now. The movie also changes when Aragorn looks into the palantír because the trilogy has changed Aragorn’s character arc in regard to his royal destiny. He does not look into a palantír until the last act of the movie (and only in the Extended Edition), after the Battle of Pelennor Fields—though he now looks into it in Minas Tirith rather than Helm’s Deep.
Minas Morgul
I do not have much to say about Minas Morgul as a setting. It is a spiky fortress with a big tower and an eerie green glow. It is functional and that is all it really needs to be. What is more interesting is a moment that is missing from the film version of the army marching from Minas Morgul under the leadership of the Lord of the Nazgûl. Here is how Tolkien narrates it:
Even as these thoughts pierced him [Frodo] with dread and held him bound as with a spell, the Rider halted suddenly, right before the entrance of the bridge, and behind him all the host stood still. There was a pause, a dead silence. Maybe it was the Ring that called to the Wraith-lord, and for a moment he was troubled, sensing some other power within his valley. This way and that turned the dark head helmed and crowned with fear, sweeping the shadows with its unseen eyes. Frodo waited, like a bird at the approach of a snake, unable to move. And as he waited, he felt, more urgent than ever before, the command that he should put on the Ring. But great as the pressure was, he felt no inclination now to yield to it. He knew that the Ring would only betray him, and that he had not, even if he put it on, the power to face the Morgul-king—not yet. There was no longer any answer to that command in his own will, dismayed by terror though it was, and he felt only the beating upon him of a great power from outside. It took his hand, and as Frodo watched with his mind, not willing it but in suspense (as if he looked on some old story far away), it moved the hand inch by inch toward the chain upon his neck. Then his own will stirred; slowly it forced the hand back and set it to find another thing, a thing lying hidden near his breast. Cold and hard it seemed as his grip closed on it: the phial of Galadriel, so long treasured, and almost forgotten till that hour. As he touched it, for a while all thought of the Ring was banished from his mind. He sighed and bent his head.
At that moment the Wraith-king turned and spurred his horse and rode across the bridge, and all his dark host followed him. Maybe the elvenhoods defied his unseen eyes, and the mind of his small enemy, being strengthened, had turned aside his thought. But he was in hast. Already the hour had struck, and at his great Master’s bidding he must march with war into the West. (IV/8)
I understand that the movie version is trying to segue quickly into the next scenes as the overarching threat is established. Still, I am surprised that an opportunity to ratchet up the tension was missed here. This had the chance to be the most suspenseful and dangerous scene in the Frodo, Sam, and Gollum storyline yet, even more so than the scene near the Black Gate. It could have also been a scene that was jarring in a good way, as one second we are expecting this army to go marching past them on the way to Gondor, but then the next second we are held in suspense about whether or not the three companions will be detected and this day will take even more of a turn for the worst. But we do not get that moment of near detection.
The Dawnless Hazy Day
Interestingly, there is no Dawnless Day within the story of the movie. In the book this day was the same day when the army marched out of Minas Morgul, but obviously this condition continued for a few days thereafter. While we see the clouds approaching Minas Tirith and we see the condition thereafter as being cloudy, it is never so cloudy that it could rightly be described as dark. When I picture what Tolkien describes on the Dawnless Day and the subsequent Siege of Gondor, I think of a light level equivalent to a severe thunderstorm or like an intense dust storm, when noon looks like sunset. I think Jackson and co. missed the mark on portraying an important part of the atmosphere at this point of the story.
The Attack on Osgiliath
The surreptitious assault on Osgiliath introduces us to a leader of the Orcs that is never named in the film but has been confirmed to go by the name Gothmog, the same Gothmog who is referenced as the lieutenant of Morgul in the book (played by Lawrence Makoare, who also played Lurtz and the Witch-King, but voiced by Craig Parker, the actor who played Haldir). The movie’s identification of this figure with a veteran Orc certainly seems plausible. Tolkien did not actually indicate what Gothmog was, except by his rank. Some—including me for some years—have assumed that Gothmog was a Nazgûl, specifically the second-highest Nazgûl, and Robert Foster says as much in The Complete Guide to Middle-earth (the first such guide I ever read). However, posthumously published work that Tolkien wrote in the middle of the publication of the volumes of LOTR shows that he called that Nazgûl Khamûl. He was stationed in Dol Guldur rather than Minas Morgul (Unfinished Tales, “The Hunt for the Ring”). Otherwise, there is no solid evidence to use in adjudicating between possible options, so the movie’s portrayal of him as an Orc leader whose voice sounds like he gargles gravel is as good a guess as any.
Certain things about the attack on Osgiliath do not fit the chronology of the book—Faramir is first attacked by the Nazgûl before the all-out assault on Osgiliath, then they again assist the later attack, then he reports back to Minas Tirith before the initial attack of the Orc army and before he goes to prepare the garrison himself—but the battle itself is well done in the movie. It has a suspenseful buildup with the quiet rowing of the fleet of Orc barges, the tension is ramped up with the realization of the attack by the defenders (which is better shown in the Extended Edition), and then we see the hasty improvised construction of a defense (including a cameo from Royd Tolkien handing out the spears). But no amount of strategizing or skill in arms can make up for the precariousness of their position, as well as the massive number difference between them and the forces swarming upon them at every point on the Anduin (and over the makeshift bridge above the defenders). As in the book, the defenders make the attackers pay for crossing the River, but not enough. They have far fewer soldiers to spare than their enemy.
Lighting the Beacons
The other plotline happening in Gondor at this time is Pippin sneaking up to light the first beacon that calls for aid from Rohan. He is sneaking about because Denethor has no interest in calling for aid from Rohan. This sequence serves well as an excuse for Jackson to get a bunch of sweeping aerial shots of mountains in New Zealand and they certainly look great. It is also a noteworthy scene for many as one of the best sequences for giving them a sense of scale in Middle-earth. But the extent to which this lighting of the beacons is different from the book is noteworthy. As I have noted before, Denethor gave the instruction to light the beacons in the book (and Gandalf and Pippin actually see the beacon of Amon Dîn lit as they approach Minas Tirith), even though he was not convinced that it would do much good. Again, book Denethor actually cares about the defense of his realm at first. There are also only seven beacons in the book, while there are thirteen in the movie, presumably so Jackson could use all of his aerial mountain shots. This is also the only means of summoning Rohan used in the movie, as there is no point at which a messenger from Gondor (named Hirgon in the book) arrives with the Red Arrow, in case it was not clear enough that Denethor actually did summon Rohan for aid. In any case, the flimsy and pointless suspense about whether or not Rohan would ride to the aid of Gondor is well and truly ended with this scene. I am glad that is over with and that we ultimately arrived at the same conclusion as the book.
The Muster of Rohan
As the Muster of Rohan is being organized to get as many Riders together in three days as possible (this total is 10,000 in the book with 6,000 going to Gondor, while 6,000 is the only figure mentioned in the terser movie), there is a scene exclusive to the Extended Edition concerning Merry and Théoden, which is juxtaposed to the similar situation with Pippin and Denethor. However, the contrast is not as clear in the movie, as Théoden’s friendly and fatherly manner with Merry is downplayed and his initial greeting of the Hobbits that established this impression is completely absent (Boyens even admits in the commentary that they included this scene as a nod to their relationship in the books, but they could not find the time to develop it properly in the movie). Still, the contrast in their characters is evident in the film. Denethor is more lordly and formal while “leading” (loosely speaking) from the back. Théoden leads from the front, and although he is not necessarily confident enough to have hope, he is determined to do what is right in defiance of the Enemy. While Denethor is given over to fatalistic despair to the point of once telling his troops to abandon their posts and flee for their lives, Théoden acknowledges that his army is not enough to defeat the armies of Mordor by itself, but that they would meet those armies in battle nonetheless.
In any case, I want to say something about this theater of the war because of how significant it is. Everything that happens the way it does in the northern theater is a result of the events of The Hobbit. If not for those events, Sauron would have an extremely powerful ally in that area of the world who could wreak untold destruction far and wide. But with his death and the restorations of the kingdoms of Erebor and Dale, wealth and supplies were traded between these kingdoms, Dwarves and Men increased in number in that area of the world, and the peoples of that land became strong enough to pose a significant obstacle to Sauron’s designs. The army he sent to destroy them may well have swept across the lands of the North through places that scarcely had the means to resist. With so much riding on them, the Dwarves of Erebor and Men of Dale fought valiantly and at heavy cost in the Battle of Dale, losing both of their kings, before taking refuge within Erebor. They were able to outlast the enemy forces within the mountain and they emerged two days after Sauron’s defeat to rout their enemies, after the latter were filled with dismay at the news of the defeats in the South. Gandalf’s reflection on this battle is surely worth quoting:
Yet things might have gone far otherwise and far worse. When you think of the great Battle of the Pelennor, do not forget the battles in Dale and the valour of Durin’s Folk. Think of what might have been. Dragon-fire and savage swords in Eriador, night in Rivendell. There might be no Queen in Gondor. We might now hope to return from the victory here only to ruin and ash. But that has been averted—because I met Thorin Oakenshield one evening on the edge of spring in Bree. A chance-meeting, as we say in Middle-earth. (Appendix A.3)
This is one of those fascinating instances in which far-reaching consequences came from a seemingly small event.
The Fall of Osgiliath
Anyway, back to the story. The scene transitions from Rohan back to Osgiliath as the fighting continues to rage on. This escape is more harrowing than in the book and it is also at a different point in the story, since Faramir has not yet come back to Minas Tirith. The escape from Osgiliath in the book is an organized retreat to the Causeway Forts, which obviously do not exist in the movie. After the Rammas Echor is overrun, Faramir and his troops still try to retreat in an organized fashion, but they are soon waylaid by the Nazgûl and horsemen of the enemy armies, so that they must be saved by Gandalf and the cavalry of Dol Amroth. In the movie the men are beset almost immediately by the Nazgûl after they leave Osgiliath, and many are killed along the way until Gandalf rides out to fend them off (with Pippin in tow only because the scene was originally shot as their arrival to Minas Tirith “in the nick of time.” While it is not accurate to the book, I am fine with this change to make the scene more harrowing and to work around the omission of Imrahil.
Faramir’s Reports
I have only a couple of short comments on the scenes with Faramir after this. His statement to Gandalf about chronology is accurate to the book, though the setting outside the hall of Denethor is not. Likewise, his dialogue with Denethor mostly consists of actual dialogue from that same scene in the book, although Faramir’s lines are a mix of his lines and Gandalf’s lines, and Denethor’s are a mix of corresponding responses to those characters. He does not have the vision of Boromir in the book, but this seems like an appropriate addition to a visual medium and it fits the character and situation. Overall, I think the adaptation decisions here were fine and conveyed the original dialogue well enough.
The Stairs of Cirith Ungol
When the story shifts back to Frodo, Sam, and Gollum, they are in the process of continuing to climb up the Stairs of Cirith Ungol. The movie introduces something new here as Gollum decides to take the “divide and conquer” approach to the two Hobbits he is leading into a trap. He tries to use his connection with Frodo as one who has borne the Ring before to show that he understands what Frodo is going through while also using the possessiveness for the Ring that he knows Frodo is developing to make him suspicious of Sam. Such a tactic does not exist in the book, whether because Gollum never really got the opportunity or because it never occurred to him. According to his original plan in the book, Gollum would have been fine killing Sam himself in Shelob’s Lair while Shelob took care of Frodo. This actually makes more sense than Gollum’s plan in the movie. It would be the climax of his well-established conflict with Sam, something he would take personal pleasure in, and a way of definitively getting rid of both Hobbits. While there is a kind of logic to movie Gollum’s plan—since it would be even easier to take care of one Hobbit as opposed to two—it requires him assuming that not killing Sam will not present a substantial risk. He does not talk Frodo into killing him; in fact, he does not even try. And considering that Gollum’s hatred of Sam is even more explicit in the movie than in the book, I seriously doubt that Gollum would be satisfied with Sam being sent away.
Faramir Prepares to Die
The Extended Edition once again goes some way to addressing the deficiencies in Faramir’s characterization in the movies that I noted last time in one scene featuring him and Pippin prior to Pippin’s formal ceremony of being sworn into service as a guard of the Citadel. Faramir mentions that Boromir was the real soldier of the two of them and certainly more like his father in being proud, stubborn, and strong. Pippin says he thinks Faramir has strength of a different kind and that his father will see it one day. If it sounds like a placeholder for more developed contrast and characterization, that is because it is. It is better to have this in the movie for Faramir’s contrast with Boromir rather than nothing at all, but it could have been improved in scenes before this.
Faramir’s subsequent conversation with Denethor is a mix of lines mostly taken from the book, although not in the same order or even in the same conversation (V/4). This more condensed form of the conversation is effective in the context of the movie as a setup for the impetus of Denethor’s final submission to despair and for Faramir’s suicide charge (as well as for Billy Boyd showing his ability to sing). The chronological difference I have indicated before also changes the context of this line. In the book Faramir is going forth to Osgiliath to provide the best defense that he can, though being sure that he will not be able to stop the enemy altogether. In the movie Faramir leads a charge that he knows will fail against an Osgiliath that has already been taken. He is also the only one to return—albeit dragged by his horse and on the verge of death—from this doomed charge, unlike in book when he survives—barely—with the majority of his men. The plan in the book makes sense tactically, even if Faramir’s insistence that he lead the defense is reckless. The plan in the movie does not make sense, except as a vain attempt by Faramir to do his father’s will and get his approval. Still, like the book, it shows the lengths Faramir is willing to go to in order to receive his father’s long-withheld approval, in both cases resolving even to die knowing that—as Denethor says in both the book and the movie—Denethor wishes that Faramir had died instead of Boromir.
The Worst Change from the Books to the Movies
And now finally, the moment no one has been waiting for. I have indicated at several points earlier my disdain for a particular change that this movie makes to the book regarding Gollum. In fact, I regard it as the single worst change the movies made to the books. And now the time has come to explain why. There is a lot for me to say, so I will try to organize my thoughts here as well as I can.
First, let us talk about the vastly inferior movie version. In his effort to divide and conquer Frodo and Sam, Gollum decides to wait until Sam falls asleep, takes their lembas in order to scatter crumbs of it on Sam’s cloak, and then throws it over the cliff down into the abyss below. When Sam notices that Gollum has done something, though he does not know what, he accuses him of sneaking around, to which Gollum responds with a line from the book that I will quote below. Sam drops the issue and wakes up Frodo. When he looks for the lembas, he realizes that it is gone and accuses Gollum of taking it. Gollum convinces Frodo that he could not have done it because he hates lembas. Gollum then shows Frodo the crumbs on Sam’s cloak to prove that he took it and he even says that he has seen Sam stuffing his face when Frodo was not looking. Sam attacks Gollum and Frodo tries to stop him until he suddenly collapses, being overcome with his burden. As Sam is tending to him, Frodo insists that he is alright, but Sam insists that he is not and offers to share his load by carrying it for a while, unwittingly proving Gollum right in Frodo’s mind. And then, because the plot requires it, Frodo—on the mountainous border of Mordor itself—tells Sam that he cannot help him anymore and that he should go home. Sam collapses in tears while Frodo and Gollum continue on. It is not the most significant problem with this scene, but since this part is already out of character, why is Frodo so distrustful of Sam that he will not let him continue on the Quest, but not so distrustful that he would attack or try to kill him for seemingly wanting the Ring? If Frodo suspected that Sam wanted the Ring, does he not think that Sam would do what Gollum did the first time they met? And again, given his obvious hatred, why does Gollum express no interest in at least suggesting killing Sam at this point when he has Frodo on his side? The flimsiness of this conflict is obvious and creates false drama that pales in comparison to the book. It is even a de-escalation from the second movie, as there was a moment (not from the book) near the end where Frodo pulls Sting on Sam and seems ready to stab him. If we had gotten something of that intensity here, where Frodo tries to kill Sam and either fails or comes to his senses one more time a little further in the process of the conflict, it would at least be more consistent with the film storyline, even if it would once again be worse than the book. Instead, we get the minimum action required by the plot to move the pieces where Jackson and co. want them to be. I would be surprised if anyone actually thought that Sam would not come back for Frodo or that this contrived conflict, written as it was simply to make the rest of the plot happen—as Jackson and co. altered it—would produce any lasting consequences. It did not enhance Sam’s fight with Shelob that he arrived just as Shelob had wrapped Frodo in a web. I will say more about that scene later, but I thought I should mention it now because that scene—at least the way Jackson and co. make it—is the entire reason this scene happens the way that it does. As for explaining Frodo’s confusing motivation for this decision, it only relies on a simplistic “the Ring made me do it” excuse. The Ring’s corrupting influence on him is noticeable at times, but this moment represents a radical momentary alteration in his relationship with Sam (and Gollum, for that matter) that has not been sufficiently justified up to this point. There was that one scene near the end of TT, yes, but compared to that action, we see an escalation in disintegrating the relationship between Frodo and Sam coupled with a de-escalation in Frodo’s instinctive hostility and responsive action. This inconsistency is difficult to account for by internal character dynamics, and it is the result of writers trying to force the plot in a certain direction.
Second, let us now turn to the book version to show just how badly this movie version screwed up one of the best scenes Tolkien wrote. Sam and Frodo are sitting in a crevice in the mountains talking about their journey to this point and reflecting on what kind of story they are in. They notice that Gollum has gone off without saying anything and they start talking about what he is up to and whether or not he is scheming to hand them over or betray them somehow. Sam insists that he is going to stay watchful, but first they have to sleep while they can. Gollum finds them a few hours later peacefully sleeping next to each other. Tolkien’s description of what happens next deserves to be quoted in full:
Gollum looked at them. A strange expression passed over his lean hungry face. The gleam faded from his eyes, and they went dim and grey, old and tired. A spasm of pain seemed to twist him, and he turned away, peering back up towards the pass, shaking his head, as if engaged in some interior debate. Then he came back, and slowly putting out a trembling hand, very cautiously he touched Frodo’s knee—but almost the touch was a caress. For a fleeting moment, could one of the sleepers have seen him, they would have thought that they beheld an old weary hobbit, shrunken by the years that had carried him far beyond his time, beyond friends and kin, and the fields and streams of youth, an old starved pitiable thing.
But at that touch Frodo stirred and cried out softly in his sleep, and immediately Sam was wide awake. The first thing he saw was Gollum—“pawing at master,” as he thought.
“Hey you!” he said roughly. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing, nothing,” said Gollum softly. “Nice Master!”
“I daresay,” said Sam. “But where have you been to—sneaking off and sneaking back, you old villain?”
Gollum withdrew himself, and a green glint flickered under his heavy lids. Almost spider-like he looked now, crouched back on his bent limbs, with his protruding eyes. The fleeting moment had passed, beyond recall. “Sneaking, sneaking!” he hissed. “Hobbits always so polite, yes. O nice hobbits! Sméagol brings them up secret ways that nobody else could find. Tired he is, thirsty he is, yes thirsty; and he guides them and he searches for paths, and they say sneak, sneak. Very nice friends, O yes my precious, very nice.” (IV/8)
When one sees the two scenes side-by-side, so to speak, it is a wonder that Jackson and co. decided to change this powerful scene so significantly. The description of Sméagol’s appearance is begging to be adapted to film. We could see a sort of reversal of Sméagol’s transformation earlier in the movie, visually signifying his potential redemption, as we get a vision of him as a haggard old Hobbit, looking more like he did at the start of the movie (i.e., Andy Serkis without CG effects), but with scant strands of hair, much fewer teeth, and far less body mass, being older than he ever should have been. (Oddly, Jackson and co. did originally have an idea for Faramir to see a vision of Frodo looking like Gollum in Henneth Annûn as a view of what he could become, but they rightly scrapped that idea without returning to the proper book version of such a change in appearance.) There is also an element of internal debate, which the cinematic version could have indicated with expressions. The book later indicates that Gollum had gone off to talk with Shelob to get her agreement to his scheme. And so this scene is Sméagol, on the verge of having his plan come to fruition, possibly reneging and doing right by the one he calls “Master.” But this possible eucatastrophe in Sméagol’s story of redemption is thwarted at the key moment by Sam’s typically rough words for him. His appearance shifts again from being, “an old weary hobbit, shrunken by the years that had carried him far beyond his time, beyond friends and kin, and the fields and streams of youth, an old starved pitiable thing,” to a spider-like creature, “crouched back on his bent limbs, with his protruding eyes.” Most hauntingly of all, Tolkien says, “The fleeting moment had passed, beyond recall.” This is the point at which Sméagol comes the closest he has ever been to redemption, and Sam has practically ensured that he will never go beyond that point again. While the eucatastrophe of the whole story will show how providence turns this event to a good end, the audience is left to wonder what could have happened if Sam had not been so rough toward Sméagol, if his typical treatment of him did not come at the worst possible time. Sam may be the chief hero of this story, but in this action he has pushed another further away from redemption, despite that one’s desperate need for it. The one time after this that Sam tries to be more merciful toward Sméagol proves to be too late because he did not recognize the time when it was right. And unlike the movie version, everything about this scene is tragically in-character. After a short conversation that represents an extended version of what is seen in the movie before Sam goes looking for the bread, the trio then continues to the entrance of Shelob’s Lair, at which point Frodo thinks to release Sméagol from his service to go wherever he wishes, thereby keeping his word. But this was not the liberation that Sméagol needed, nor is it one that he wants, as he insists that he must continue to guide them through the dark caves ahead. There is no splitting of the group, no scene of Sam collapsing in a weeping mess, no attempt by Frodo to get rid of Sam (quite the opposite, actually), and no assault on Sméagol. It proceeds perfectly without all of these aspects and others that made the movie version questionable.
Besides the unequaled huge gulf between the quality of the original scene and the quality of the adapted scene, what else is wrong with the movie version of this scene compared to the book version? As I indicated above, the character dynamics make the book version of the scene work while they undermine the plausibility of the movie version. Gollum hates Sam more and would much rather kill him himself, while his hatred for Frodo is less personal (as he is more of an obstacle to his having the Ring) and would rather have Shelob kill him. He is also internally conflicted, hence the part of him that still desires friendship, kindness, love, and to be the simple Hobbit he used to be once more could be called to the forefront at times, even if only for a moment. Sam has been protective of Frodo throughout this story, and it has always been his chief concern in the Quest, but at times his desire to be protective has been overweening and gotten one or both of them into trouble (such as when he almost drowned in the Anduin and when he inadvertently revealed the fact that Frodo has the Ring to Faramir in the book). That is what it does here, but Sam does not yet realize how his being overly protective has caused them trouble this time. It also makes sense that Sam would be overly harsh to Gollum here, not only because he is protective of Frodo, but also because he is hostile and hateful towards Gollum in general. It makes sense that he would reflexively accuse him of things and call him a villain. At the same time, he would restrain himself from attacking Gollum in front of Frodo because he defers to Frodo’s policy regarding Gollum, even when he questions Frodo’s judgment. Frodo expresses more doubts about Gollum in the books than he does in the movies, but he still treats him with trust, hoping that the better part of him can rise to the occasion and be trustworthy. But no matter how much trust he puts in Gollum out of necessity, he never reaches the point where he would trust Gollum over Sam, because he has learned to trust Sam as much as anyone in the world. He knows that Sam is hostile towards Gollum, but he also knows that Sam will restrain himself for the sake of the Quest. He would know better than to suddenly distrust Sam and to side with Gollum over him to the point of telling him to go home. It makes sense for him to let Gollum go where he will because this is him being true to his word and honoring Gollum’s faithfulness as well, considering that he thinks that he and Sam can find their way from here. But because Gollum has the strong desire to reclaim his Precious and to kill Sam—and now that Sam has assured the quelling of any second thoughts Gollum might have—he insists that he must guide them here as well.
One further problem is that it is difficult to justify this change in the midst of an adaptation that generally stays faithful to the basic story and plot of LOTR, even at times when it makes changes. It is even more difficult to justify it when one considers how important this scene was to Tolkien, as it is one he described on multiple occasions as especially moving to him (Letters #96 and #165). In a previous scene that Tolkien described as moving to him, I noted that Jackson and co. had changed the setting, but kept the essence of Sam’s speech. Of all scenes to mess with in the adaptation process, why would Jackson and co. pick this scene that Tolkien consistently regarded as the one of the best that he wrote in LOTR? As he says in one letter, he was, “most grieved by Gollum’s failure (just) to repent when interrupted by Sam: this seems to me really like the real world in which the instruments of just retribution are seldom themselves just or holy; and the good are often stumbling blocks” (Letter #165).
This observation by Tolkien raises another issue with this scene in terms of thematic significance. The movie version of the scene has no significance beyond the necessity of the altered plot (which they thought had “more tension”). It is otherwise a generic scene of deceit and betrayal that does not really make sense when you think about the specific characters and the dynamics between them involved in that scene. The book version, however, resonates with many stories—fictional and non-fictional—of redemption and failed redemption, of teetering on the edge of salvation or destruction until one remark pushes the person over that edge, one way or the other. Who is to say how many opportunities for redemption have been thwarted because the righteous have been stumbling blocks along the path? How many times has someone pronounced a bad name on someone else and that person has responded by sinking to the occasion, when they could have been ready to rise to a different one? When we consider the fact that the story will ultimately end with Gollum saving Middle-earth in spite of himself, it calls to mind other stories when what we intend for ill has nevertheless resulted in good. And this scene is especially effective at raising the perpetual inquiry of “What if?” While Sam, like others in similar situations, is not primarily responsible for another person’s failure to repent, it certainly does not help when one is a stumbling block in the way of repentance through conduct that one thinks is righteous (in Sam’s case, righteous indignation and protectiveness). Such events make one ask questions like, “What if I had responded differently?” “What if I had been more charitable?” Likewise, the scene reminds us that, even for a character that could be despicable like Gollum, there is a person underneath the evil, a person that still has a chance for redemption, potentially for as long as he draws breath. When mercy meets the repentance of the evil one, a powerful act of deliverance can take place. The immaculate narration of this scene raises these profoundly resonant and ever-present issues. The movie version of this scene raises questions about what the filmmakers were thinking. The fact that they were much looser in adapting this scene than other scenes that were clearly important to Tolkien, the incredible gulf between the quality of the movie scene and the quality of the book scene, and the exchange of this profound scene from the source for a mess of pottage that does not make sense on reflection all contribute to making this scene the single worst change in all of the LOTR movies.
The Suicide Mission
That was a longer detour than I intended, but I had a lot to say about that scene. I have already commented on the charge against Osgiliath and there is not much to say about Gandalf’s words to Faramir before he leaves the city, except to note that they mostly match the equivalent in the book, despite the aforementioned changes in chronology. More significant is Pippin’s song, titled here “The Edge of Night.” The setup for this song is borrowed from a scene early in Book V Chapter 4 (“The Siege of Gondor”), although it is condensed:
“But that [what Pippin is fit for] I shall learn soonest, maybe, if I keep you beside me. The esquire of my chamber has begged leave to go to the out-garrison, so you shall take his place for a while. You shall wait on me, bear errands, and talk to me, if war and council leave me any leisure. Can you sing?”
“Yes,” said Pippin. “Well, yes, well enough for my own people. But we have no songs fit for great halls and evil times, lord. We seldom sing of anything more terrible than wind or rain. And most of my songs are about things that make us laugh; or about food and drink of course.”
“And why should such songs be unfit for my halls, or for such hours as these? We who have lived long under the Shadow may surely listen to echoes from a land untroubled by it? Then we may feel that our vigil was not fruitless, though it may have been thankless.”
One major difference is that Pippin does not actually sing to Denethor in the book, since the latter’s request is interrupted by the business of the day. It also takes place earlier than in the movie, as Faramir has not arrived on the scene yet. Furthermore, although it is told more in their expressions and subtle tones, the movie version of this scene seems more hostile than the book version, especially since it is following after an emotional scene in which Pippin witnessed Denethor essentially giving his son leave to ride to his death. The song that Pippin sings in the movie version is an altered version of the last part of “A Walking Song”, which appears in Book I Chapter 3 as Frodo, Sam, and Pippin are on the way to Buckland. The movie song has the following lyrics:
Home is behind
The world ahead
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadow
To the edge of night
Until the stars are all alight
Mist and shadow
Cloud and shade
All shall fade
All shall…fade.
The original “A Walking Song” is as follows:
Upon the hearth the fire is red,
Beneath the roof there is a bed;
But not yet weary are our feet,
Still round the corner we may meet
A sudden tree or standing stone
That none have seen but we alone.
Tree and flower and leaf and grass,
Let them pass! Let them pass!
Hill and water under sky,
Pass them by! Pass them by!
Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate,
And though we pass them by today,
Tomorrow we may come this way
And take the hidden paths that run
Towards the Moon or to the Sun.
Apple, thorn, and nut and sloe,
Let them go! Let them go!
Sand and stone and pool and dell,
Fare you well! Fare you well!
Home is behind, the world ahead,
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadows to the edge of night,
Until the stars are all alight.
Then world behind and home ahead,
We'll wander back to home and bed.
Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,
Away shall fade! Away shall fade!
Fire and lamp, and meat and bread,
And then to bed! And then to bed!
As with Théoden’s poem and the prophecy I discussed in the review of The Hobbit, the sense and atmosphere of these words have been radically changed. The book version of the full song is essentially a whimsical song about walking and adventure that leads back to home, no matter how many different paths are traveled. The atmosphere in the movie combined with Pippin’s style in singing it, make it seem melancholier about the fading of all things. Pippin did, in fact, sing a Hobbit song for Denethor, but he has shaped it in such a way as to be now fit for evil times and, in general, the current state of his story. Once again, this is some remarkable creativity in adaptation from Jackson and co.
Dunharrow
Our introduction to the idea of the Paths of the Dead takes place in a different context from the book. The movie introduces the place when Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli arrive at Dunharrow, its doorstep. The book showed that Aragorn had already planned to come here, because his time for stealth was over and he knew he needed the phantom army that dwelt here to carry out his plans for Gondor. Again, this is yet another consequence of the decision to change Aragorn’s character arc in a fundamental way.
While at Dunharrow we find another scene contrasting the circumstances of Merry and Pippin as Merry receives his gear from Éowyn (which is said in commentary to be Théoden’s armor when he was young). He pulls out his sword and realizes that it is not sharp. While Éowyn does provide him with gear in the book, he does not need to sharpen his blade; his blade was, after all, a well-crafted blade made by the Men of Westernesse to harm the Witch-King himself (and like Narsil, it did not need sharpening). But that is not the sword he wields here.
What is more interesting at this point in the story is a film-only addition in which Éowyn and Éomer discuss Merry, which in turn is a thinly veiled dialogue about Éowyn as well. After a quick back-and-forth about whether Merry should be encouraged, Éowyn insists that Merry should not be left behind because he has as much reason to go to war as Éomer. He (and she) should be able to fight for those he (and she) loves. The Extended Edition then adds Éomer’s response, in which he insists that Éowyn is ignorant of war. War is a terrifying hell-storm of violence and death that inspires fear in its participants. When confronted with that fear, Éomer thinks Merry, being as inexperienced as he is, would flee and that he would be right to do so. (And it would be fit for this scene to be a setup for later, as we see this fear in their eyes before Théoden’s rousing speech.) Éomer then puts too fine a point on this scene by blatantly telling Éowyn that war is the province of men. Although this is not necessarily an inaccurate representation of the presupposition that defines obstacles for both Éowyn and Merry, the major issue is with its blatancy. That could have been fixed simply by dropping the last sentence.
The Grey Company of One and the Resolve of the King
The next scene introduces several changes to Tolkien’s story. Presumably out of a desire to avoid introducing any new characters that are not absolutely necessary, Jackson and co. have omitted the Grey Company from the story. The Grey Company is a company of thirty Rangers from the North led by Halbarad and accompanied by Elladan and Elrohir, Elrond’s sons. They bring Aragorn his standard made by Arwen and give him a message from Elrond to take the Paths of the Dead. This company then goes with him through the Paths of the Dead (so that they arrive at Dunharrow before Théoden), to southern Gondor, and on to the Battle of Pelennor Fields. Elladan and Elrohir would even accompany Aragorn to the Morannon for the final battle. This is not the brothers’ first appearance in the book, but it was their first substantial one. Instead, the movie features Elrond coming to Dunharrow to give Aragorn Andúril and tell him that he can only win the coming battle if he summons the Army of the Dead. He gives him Andúril for this purpose because it is the sign that he is the heir of Isildur and the rightful King of Gondor. It is now when Elrond exhorts Aragorn to once and for all stop denying his kingship and to become who he was born to be. Aragorn’s final affirmation of what he must do is then stated with yet another example of creative fidelity as Elrond says in Elvish, “I give hope to Men,” to which Aragorn responds, “I keep none for myself.” The translation is slightly different, but the Elvish words they say are an exact match for Gilraen’s last words to Aragorn, which gives this scene an extra layer of significance in Elrond’s reminding and Aragorn’s embracing of who he was born to be. The movie could have been more overt with this connection to help members of the audience who did not read the books, but it is still subtly there with the fact that these words were inscribed in the Tengwar script on her statue featured in the Extended Edition of FOTR.
I should also comment on the difference between the book and the movie regarding Aragorn’s resolve at this point in the story. The book makes clear on multiple occasions that Aragorn is biding his time until he can take the throne and his motivation to do so never wavers in the course of the story, especially since he has the added motivation of this kingship being the condition of his marital union with Arwen. The question was never if he wanted to take his rightful throne, it was how and when he would do it. He was content to conduct this war with stealth, waiting until he could claim his place under peaceful circumstances. But after receiving Elrond’s message and taking counsel with himself, he decides to confront Sauron via the palantír, at which point stealth became useless. He had revealed himself to the Enemy and he knew that Sauron would respond with a hasty and heavy stroke to snuff out this spark before it became a fire. His decision to take the Paths of the Dead is of one piece with this decision, and he makes it out of necessity. Movie Aragorn has reached his resolve after spending his life in denial of power he did not want for fear of making the mistake of his distant ancestor (it is a matter of evading power more than responsibility, as movie Aragorn never comes off as wanting to avoid responsibility). Elrond has told him that Arwen has irrevocably chosen a mortal life and her fate is now inextricably tied to the outcome of the War and the Quest. If Aragorn does not do what he knows that he must, Arwen will die in vain, giving up her immortality for a man who could have brought victory at a crucial moment but was too concerned about his own potential for wrongdoing that he failed to act. With his lover’s fate tied to what happens, with his royal sword Andúril, and with the desperate urgency of the situation, he has run out of reasons to deny his kingship. While both of these character arcs work in their own ways as they both achieve the proper end, I still think the book version makes Aragorn a more compelling and interesting character.
Geographical Discontinuity
I should also comment on one other aspect of this sequence, and it concerns chronology. As much as I have complimented Jackson and co. on how they kept with the chronology for the most part, there are times when they stumble, and this is one of them. I called out the scale of space and time in The Hobbit and it is only fair to bring attention to it when it happens in LOTR. Elrond tells Aragorn that the Corsairs will be in Minas Tirith in two days’ time. As it is, when Aragorn and the Rohirrim leave Dunharrow by their different ways, it takes approximately five days to get from there to Minas Tirith, not two. This is not quite as egregious of a contraction as The Battle of the Five Armies, as these different parties are traveling over a smaller distance (less than 300 miles) and mostly not on foot, as opposed to the over 500 miles on foot in that movie. But it is an issue, the only way of which to resolve is that Jackson and co. have contracted the distance between them. Théoden say that it is three days’ gallop from Dunharrow to Minas Tirith. As such, the logistics are at least internally consistent, even if they do not fit with the book, which more realistically reckons with the fact that an army must ride at a slower pace than a single horseman on an especially fast horse, particularly to be fit for battle at the end of the journey. Still, because there is some account for the logistics and there is clearer internal consistency, this deviation from the books is less egregious than what we saw in The Battle of the Five Armies (or Rings of Power, for that matter).
Aragorn and Éowyn
The next scene provides Aragorn’s parting with Éowyn and the proper death knell of any potential for romance (though not for certain fans, mainly of the movie, wishing to “ship” them). The dialogue in the movie version is slightly altered between the theatrical version and the Extended Edition, but both draw from different parts of the books. The theatrical version features Éowyn’s statement about how his companions would not be parted from him because they love him as a thinly veiled confession of her own feelings for him here rather than at Helm’s Deep. Some of the other key points of the book’s version of this dialogue (V/2) have already appeared elsewhere in the movies. Aragorn’s dialogue in the movie borrows from other parts of the book when he is talking to or about Éowyn. When he tells her, “It is but a shadow and a thought that you love. I cannot give you what you seek,” this is reflective of what he says to Éomer about her attraction to him, albeit in less detail:
Few other griefs amid the ill chances of this world have more bitterness and shame for a man’s heart than to behold the love of a lady so fair and brave that cannot be returned. Sorrow and pity have followed me ever since I left her desperate in Dunharrow and rode to the Paths of the Dead; and no fear upon that way was so present as the fear for what might befall her. And yet, Éomer, I say to you that she loves you more truly than me; for you she loves and knows; but in me she loves only a shadow and a thought: a hope of glory and great deeds, and lands far from the fields of Rohan. (V/8)
Likewise, his statement, “I have wished you joy since first I saw you,” reflects what he says to her much later in the books when it has been announced that Faramir and Éowyn are betrothed and she asks for his blessing: “I have wished thee joy ever since first I saw thee. It heals my heart to see thee now in bliss” (VI/6). Since these scenes were cut out of the movie, I am still glad that lines from them were worked into the story at an appropriate place. There is one aspect of this scene that I wish the movie had accentuated more but did not because of the decision to have Aragorn attempt to sneak out of the camp and fail. When Aragorn takes his leave from Éowyn, Tolkien narrates it thus: “Then he kissed her hand, and sprang into the saddle, and rode away, and did not look back; and only those who knew him well and were near to him saw the pain that he bore” (V/2). Aragorn is obviously not happy about having to rebuff her affections in the movie, but it is not clear that we see him trying to stay composed through it in the way that is implied in the book.
Théoden and Éowyn
The next scene with Éowyn, this time with Théoden, is film-only, as one might expect. I like this scene because it shows us how Théoden does indeed treat Éowyn like a daughter, even if his judgment might be distorted by a benign paternalism, as it is also with Merry. He leaves Edoras in her care and implies that she can fight then if this decisive battle goes ill. Such a portrait fits best what we can be confident of in regard to evidence for shield-maidens among the Vikings (i.e., they tended to fight in defense and often in desperate situations thereof when they fought at all). When she asks if there is any other duty he would have her perform, he only says that he would have her smile again. He goes to battle to bring her hope and he wishes for her to live in it. He may not understand her rightly, but there is no question of his love and care for her.
The Paths of the Dead
As Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli are taking the Dimholt road, Legolas recounts the story that Aragorn recounts in the book. The restless dead here consist of Men who swore an oath of allegiance to Isildur. But when the time came to fulfill their oath after Sauron returned to Middle-earth, they refused to fight, because they had previously worshiped Sauron (a detail the movie leaves out). Thus, Isildur cursed them to never find rest until they fulfilled their oath by fighting against Sauron when they are summoned by the King. The one detail that Legolas includes that he gets wrong is in calling Isildur “the last king of Gondor.” The line of kings in Gondor was not broken until 2,000 years later. Even Gandalf’s earlier monologue, despite its chronological difficulties, did not make this mistake, instead implying that it failed over a stretch of time.
The Extended Edition also includes a line here in which Legolas (rather than Aragorn, as in the book) recites part of a prophecy of Malbeth the Seer in the last days of Arnor, Gondor’s sister kingdom to the North. Here is the prophecy in full, with the part Legolas says in bold (V/2):
Over the land there lies a long shadow,
westward reaching wings of darkness.
The Tower trembles; to the tombs of kings
doom approaches. The Dead awaken;
for the hour is come for the oathbreakers:
at the Stone of Erech they shall stand again
and hear there a horn in the hills ringing.
Whose shall the horn be? Who shall call them
from the grey twilight, the forgotten people?
The heir of him to whom the oath they swore.
From the North shall he come, need shall drive him:
he shall pass the Door to the Paths of the Dead.
Since the Stone of Erech is not referenced in the movie and there is no horn blown, it is no surprise that Jackson and co. left that part of the prophecy out of the movie. But I do appreciate that this prophecy was preserved in the Extended Edition to provide more depth to the storyline and to implicitly reference the providential direction of history in Middle-earth. I also appreciate that the movie gives us a sense here of the quiet charisma of Aragorn and the strength of his will, such that he leads his companions into the realm of the dead. This is not as compelling as the book version, wherein he leads more companions and their horses through this chilling place, but I appreciate that it is here nonetheless. (It should also be noted that, though the monologue is slightly different, Gimli’s hesitance about entering through the door is accurate to the book, as is his being felt pressured into it when Legolas goes in before him in an act “unheard of.”)
The scene of summoning the Army of the Dead is understandably made more dramatic in the film than it is in the book. There is a more pronounced sense of suspense in this version of the scene as the Dead try to attack the three companions and there is doubt about whether or not they will fulfill their oath. Although the Dead are presented as potentially hostile to the heroes in the book, it is not quite as overt as in the movie. And from the moment that the Dead (presumably the King of the Dead himself) speak with Aragorn, they make clear that they have come to fulfill their oath and to have the peace that has eluded them since they broke that oath. But given the changes that the movie has made elsewhere to the story, I actually prefer the theatrical version of this scene to the Extended Edition. The Extended Edition leaves their answer in doubt before the three companions must escape the cave through an avalanche of skulls (presumably, the rest of their skeletons are kept in other caves) and they do not hear an affirmative answer until after they see the Corsair ships. The theatrical version cuts away after Aragorn asks, “What say you?” The theatrical version thereby leaves us in complete suspense about how they answered. We will not know until they appear again at the Battle of Pelennor Fields. This is a better attempt at building suspense differently from the book than other instances I have commented on thus far because of the way it is edited and because of what we have learned about the Oathbreakers already. It is not difficult to imagine that they will fight alongside Aragorn, but the theatrical version does what it can to create suspense in a well-done way.
The Siege of Gondor
In any case, the movie switches back to the Siege of Gondor and the beginning of an incredibly long and detailed battle sequence that I have praised elsewhere and will expand upon here. The Siege of Gondor in the movie is admittedly not as compelling in its atmosphere as the book’s version with its emphasis on the oppressive darkness and the men progressively abandoning their posts out of fear and despair. The moment when the Orc catapults launch the severed heads over the wall is also understated in the movie as one horrifying spectacle among many other things happening, as opposed to the significant impact it has on morale in the books, as the Nazgûl commanders sought to defeat the defenders of Minas Tirith with minimal effort through devastating psychological warfare. The movie tries to substitute these elements by having Denethor yell at the soldiers from the top of the city to abandon their posts and flee for their lives prior to Gandalf smacking him down and by having him rally the troops thereafter. They also have moments where the soldiers run for cover when the Nazgûl are flying overhead, but that does not have quite the same effect as many of them progressively abandoning their posts with the accumulation of terror. It is accurate to the book that Gandalf rode through the city rallying the troops and boosting their morale, but it was not all in one swoop (again, this is a function of being a different medium that this part of Gandalf’s action has to be condensed).
Otherwise, this more action-packed version of the siege is well shot and well arranged with almost impeccable pacing. This, along with the Battle of the Hornburg in the previous film, is a textbook case in how to construct an epic battle sequence with so many moving parts. There is a definite lesson here in how to build the scene constantly by adding new elements at the right times and introducing different levels of tension and semi-relief of tension (as opposed to Jackson and co.’s depiction of the Battle of Five Armies, which just threw a bunch of stuff at us at once while we waited until it was over). First, we see the marching and the full, massive spectacle of the armies of Mordor from atop the Citadel of Minas Tirith, then we see them start the ranged attack. Then, we see the Orcs fire their catapults. Then, we see the defenders respond with superior catapults and trebuchets that even take out some siege towers along with masses of Orcs. It is enough to give a faint hope that the defenders might inflict enough damage to hold them off, but then we see the Nazgûl attack like Stukas out of WW2, driving defenders back from the upper levels and even destroying a couple of trebuchets. In the ruckus, the Trolls manage to push some siege towers up to the outer wall, with a couple even being killed in the process, though it is not enough to stop the first tower. At this point we see the siege towers unload their Orcs and the intense one-on-one combat ensues, including some fighting from Gandalf and even Pippin at one point. The defenses of the first level are being tasked, but they are still holding on tenuously. The Extended Edition also adds a scene not in the book when the Orcs try to use a standard battering ram on the great gates of Minas Tirith only to fail and be cut down in droves. While this was not in the book, it is effective both in showing how effective the defense of Minas Tirith is and as an intro to the real battering ram, named Grond after the weapon of Sauron’s lord, Melkor (also only used once in actual combat).
As for Grond, it looks like it should in that it is a terrifying and irresistible ram, made more intimidating by giving it the appearance of a wolf with fire in its mouth and eyes from some unknown source, like a hound straight out of hell. This appearance is accurate to the book, including the fire, which is said to be caused by magic. The major difference in how it is utilized, though, is that it strikes the gate more than three times in the movie. Tolkien was quite deliberate in how he narrated the three strikes of Grond on the strongest gates of any fortress of Men. And while the movie does well at conveying the same tension that Tolkien conveys with these strikes, it is not done in quite the same way. It also does not feature the Lord of the Nazgûl using spells to aid Grond in breaking the gate relatively quickly.
The Corsairs
The Extended Edition adds a scene after the introduction of Grond in which Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli encounter the Corsairs before unleashing the Army of the Dead on them. The book has this army fighting for Aragorn once and that is all that he wanted them for. Aragorn is trying to save the lives of the many soldiers of southern Gondor who have been drawn off from the defense in Minas Tirith because of the attacks on their own homes carried out by the Corsair ships. He then planned to lead them in the Corsair ships to the Battle of Pelennor Fields in order to exercise his proper leadership and to save Gondor with the forces of Gondor. His arrival with the banner of Elendil unfurled is the last shift of psychological warfare that the Men of Gondor and Rohan needed to turn their would-be destruction into a rout of the enemy. Furthermore, if these forces had been overwhelmed, that would put the women and children sent to take refuge in the south at risk. None of this is portrayed in the movie because all we see of southern Gondor are burning buildings in the background. And Aragorn in the movie decides to double dip with the Army of the Dead because he has no one to bring from southern Gondor. They not only have to drive off the Corsairs, as they did in the book, but they must also be the force that saves the day at the Battle of Pelennor Fields. This scene would have been necessary if the movie followed the book more closely on this point, but it also would have needed to be extended. Given the changes to the battle itself, I think the theatrical version was superior once again. Since we never saw the King of the Dead accept Aragorn’s offer, when we see the Corsair ships pull up with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli in them, it is a well-executed turn of events and relieves a lot of tension that has built up to this point as hope for the Gondorians and Rohirrim has dwindled. But really, this scene is in the Extended Edition because of excessive setup secondarily and comedy primarily, as Peter Jackson’s character is killed by Gimli bumping Legolas’s warning shot into a killing shot, and because many other prominent members of the crew were able to have cameos as part of this Corsair crew.
Shelob’s Lair
When the scene shifts back to Frodo, we find him arriving at Shelob’s Lair without Sam (as I have mentioned, that is a difference with the book due to what I regard as inexcusable changes). The setting is suitably creepy and unsettling, although it has a typical movie weakness when portraying intensely dark settings. Here is how the setting is described in the book, besides the features of webs everywhere and corpses littering the place, “Here the air was still, stagnant, heavy, and sound fell dead. They walked as it were in a black vapour wrought of veritable darkness itself that, as it was breathed, brought blindness not only to the eyes but to the mind, so that even the memory of colours and of forms and of any light faded out of thought. Night always had been, and always would be, and night was all” (IV/9). The problem with portraying this in a movie is that your audience in the theater is already in a dark room and it can be a strain on the eyes to have a setting that dark. At the same time, when your set designers have put so much time and effort into constructing this set and making it look just right—to the point that they had to heat the synthetic polymer used for the webs to precisely 220° lest it burst into flame at 222°—it does not make much sense to make it almost completely covered in darkness. Instead, you need the actor(s) to act as if the set is darker than we can see. The discontinuity between the book and the movie on this setting should not necessarily be counted against the movie; it is simply a function of the film medium being different than what can be better conveyed in the book medium. Shelob herself does not completely resemble her book counterpart, not having clusters of eyes, but she is reasonably accurate simply for being a giant spider with a sting in her rear (which is accurate to the book, but different from normal spiders, of course).
I do not feel need to say much about some of the other changes here, such as Frodo’s one-on-one fight with Gollum or him leaving behind Sting in a web and the Phial of Galadriel on the ground, since those are results of the earlier inexcusable change. One addition in the movie that is of a different kind is Frodo’s vision of Galadriel. She repeats what she has told him previously, that the task was appointed to him and that no one will find a way if he does not, and then she helps him to his feet. In a way somewhat similar to Arwen for Aragorn, Galadriel has a semi-angelic function here for Frodo. Given that Galadriel has the ability to communicate telepathically—which is accurate to the book, though it is not utilized to the extent and explicitness that it is in the various movies—and how she is in some ways one of Tolkien’s Marian figures, I think this is appropriate. It is yet another example of creative fidelity, although it is a shame that it happened here only because of a bad change made to Frodo’s storyline.
WHY IS ÉOWYN’S HELMET OFF?
The Extended Edition adds a scene after this of a dialogue between Éowyn and Merry. This scene has no equivalent in the book. Indeed, some of the decisions here require explanation. I can understand that it is difficult to conceal Éowyn’s identity in the visual medium of a movie as it was in the book, when she went by the name of Dernhelm. Instead, Merry recognizes her from the start. It also does not make sense in the context of the book, or even of the movie, that these two should be so blatant about their presence in the camp as to walk or sit about without even a helmet on. Éowyn is not supposed to be here and she gets around that in the book by using an alias and establishing some kind of understanding with Elfhelm but otherwise keeping herself concealed. By those means also she is able to get the soldiers to ignore the presence of the Hobbit, who is also not supposed to be there. And honestly, after the update given by the scout to Théoden about Minas Tirith, it feels like the dialogue is simply here to pad the time to justify this being a separate scene. It reiterates what we already know about Merry, and it does not really add anything to Éowyn. This is a scene that should have been left on the cutting room floor or added to in another way.
Where the Woses Are Not
Speaking of which, there is a scene missing here that was significant in the book, such that an entire chapter is dedicated to it. As the Rohirrim are riding to Minas Tirith and getting reports coming in from scouts, they come to the edge of Drúadan Forest, where the Woses live. The head of these Wild Men of the Woods was named Ghân-buri-Ghân and he provided Théoden with important intelligence on the enemy army that was awaiting them on the road to Minas Tirith, and he gave them a way to come to Minas Tirith in time by guiding them through the forest. Originally, this character was supposed to be in the movie, played by Māori actor Wi Kuki Kaa. But somewhere along the way, this part of the story was scrapped. I suppose it is another one of those instances in which Jackson and co. decided not to introduce a new character this late in the trilogy, yet I cannot help but miss this scene because of how it contributed to Tolkien’s overarching theme of showing how the seemingly small and insignificant people whom the wise and powerful of the world took no account of can nevertheless change the course of the world and its history. If not for the decisions and counsel of Ghân-buri-Ghân, the Rohirrim would not have arrived in time and in shape to help save Minas Tirith. As gratitude for the help of the Woses, Aragorn officially declared that the Drúadan Forest is their own domain and that no one could walk in their forest without their leave.
The Battle of Pelennor Fields
Because of many large and small changes made to the Battle of Pelennor Fields, it is difficult to know when to talk about what in comparing and contrasting the book and movie versions of this climactic battle. I suppose that I should reiterate what I said about this battle in my review of The Battle of the Five Armies: “And though I think that ROTK would have been better served to follow the book more closely in regard to the aforementioned siege and battle, I join the consensus in praising the movie’s supremely well-done battle. It was well paced, tense, had multiple sways of emotion, and felt like it was constantly building by adding new features, characters, and armies into the fray at the right times (rather than all at once).” This battle took much of what made the battle in the previous movie work, amplified it, and added even more to it to make it a battle that can properly carry much of the third movie (unlike its equivalent in The Hobbit). Still, I think this battle would have been even better had it followed the book more closely at certain points. To be fair, this cannot always be the case, if for no other reason than that the movie cannot reproduce the quality of Tolkien’s narration, but it could happen often enough to make a substantial impact. At the same time, I will give credit where credit is due for how Jackson and co. filmed this battle in a compelling way.
First of all, while I can understand why the movie has the Trolls storming in after the gate is broken, followed by Orcs and Easterlings (you can only see the latter in the background, but they are there), the book provided a more compelling scene here and one that transitions extremely well into the arrival of the Rohirrim. I know that the movie is trying to utilize more action and create a greater sense of peril immediately prior to Rohan’s arrival, but let us take a look at how the book portrays the aftermath of the gate being destroyed:
In rode the Lord of the Nazgûl. A great black shape against the fires beyond he loomed up, grown to a vast menace of despair. In rode the Lord of the Nazgûl, under the archway that no enemy ever yet had passed, and all fled before his face.
All save one. There waiting, silent and still in the space before the Gate, sat Gandalf upon Shadowfax: Shadowfax, who alone among the free horses of the earth endured the terror, unmoving, steadfast as a graven image in Rath Dínen.
“You cannot enter here,” said Gandalf, and the huge shadow halted. “Go back to the abyss prepared for you! Go back! Fall into the nothingness that awaits you and your Master. Go!”
The Black Rider flung back his hood, and behold! he had a kingly crown; and yet upon no head visible was it set. The red fires shone between it and the mantled shoulders vast and dark. From a mouth unseen there came a deadly laughter.
“Old fool!” he said. “Old fool! This is my hour. Do you not know Death when you see it? Die now and curse in vain!” And with that he lifted high his sword and flames ran down the blade.
Gandalf did not move. And in that very moment, away behind in some courtyard of the City, a cock crowed. Shrill and clear he crowed, recking nothing of wizardry or war, welcoming only the morning that in the sky far above the shadows of death was coming with the dawn.
And as if in answer there came from far away another note. Horns, horns, horns. In dark Mindolluin’s sides they dimly echoed. Great horns of the North wildly blowing. Rohan had come at last. (V/4)
I cannot tell you how many times I have read the narration after the dialogue, but I still get chills to this day. And this scene also makes sense in light of the larger story. While the Siege of Gondor had involved an attack on Minas Tirith, the primary purpose of it was to sow fear and despair in the city, weakening the defenders mentally/psychologically in much quicker fashion than starvation or thirst might work in a typical siege. And here it comes to a climax as the most powerful and terrifying of Sauron’s minions is the first to enter the city, turning (almost) all to flight before him. Surely in his pride and dark wisdom he would not suffer any of his underlings to enter before he did. But opposite of him is the most powerful of his enemies, unintimidated and unmoving. Gandalf holds him—and thus the rest of the army—at bay for a moment by his mere presence and by speaking with confidence words of hope for final victory. At the moment, nothing could be more effective a resistance against this force of terror and despair. Before these commanders of their respective sides can test themselves against one another, a new day has emerged to push back the darkness of Mordor and a new force has arrived to join the battle.
This is also definitely better than the Extended Edition’s version of this encounter between Gandalf and the Lord of the Nazgûl. In that version, they meet on one of the upper levels and the latter actually breaks the former’s staff with his power and forces him to stay down. This scene seems to imply needlessly that the Nazgûl was the more powerful of the two, at least for that encounter. That is more than is indicated in the scene quoted above. Of course, there is another part of the book (earlier in the equivalent chapter) when Denethor taunts Gandalf about the Lord of the Nazgûl being a foe that could match or overmatch him. Gandalf only says that this might be so:
“Yet now under the Lord of Barad-dûr the most fell of all his captains is already master of your outer walls,” said Gandalf. “King of Angmar long ago, Sorcerer, Ringwraith, Lord of the Nazgûl, a spear of terror in the hand of Sauron, shadow of despair.”
“Then, Mithrandir, you had a foe to match you,” said Denethor. “For myself, I have long known who is the chief captain of the hosts of the Dark Tower. Is this all that you have returned to say? Or can it be that you have withdrawn because you are overmatched?”
Pippin trembled, fearing that Gandalf would be stung to sudden wrath, but his fear was needless. “It might be so,” Gandalf answered softly. “But our trial of strength is not yet come. And if words spoken of old be true, not by the hand of man shall he fall, and hidden from the Wise is the doom that awaits him.” (V/4)
Even within the purview of the book, it is not beyond imagination that Sauron could have so empowered the Lord of the Nazgûl that he could have bested Gandalf, but I do not see a particularly good reason for the movie to make it seem more definitive that he would have. At the same time, I am not sure if or how they could have gotten a real horse to react differently here, but it is noticeable that Shadowfax’s actions are also out of keeping with the book, as he is spooked in the movie and stands stalwart in the book. It is so odd to me that the decision was made to follow this course of action instead of the more compelling version in the book.
And because I am not sure where else to mention it, I might as well say something about it here. One odd omission from the rest of the battle is that after the Nazgûl have attacked Minas Tirith and forced the upper-level defenders into cover, they essentially disappear from the battle, except for the Lord of the Nazgûl. I cannot really fault the movie for this, though, because they disappear from the narration in the book as well. Tolkien had at one point stated that the remaining Nazgûl had fled in fear to Mordor with ill tidings, but Tolkien did not include this statement in his rewrite of the passage (War of the Ring, vol. 8 of The History of Middle-earth). Instead, one has to rely on context clues from texts later in the story, namely this one:
They had not gone far when Frodo paused. “There’s a Black Rider over us,” he said. “I can feel it. We had better keep still for a while.”
Crouched under a great boulder they sat facing back westward and did not speak for some time. Then Frodo breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s passed,” he said. They stood up, and then they both stared in wonder. Away to their left, southward, against a sky that was turning grey, the peaks and high ridges of the great range began to appear dark and black, visible shapes. Light was growing behind them. Slowly it crept towards the North. There was battle far above in the high spaces of the air. The billowing clouds of Mordor were being driven back, their edges tattering as a wind out of the living world came up and swept the fumes and smokes towards the dark land of their home. Under the lifting skirts of their dreary canopy dim light leaked into Mordor like pale morning through the grimed window of a prison.
“Look at it, Mr. Frodo!” said Sam. “Look at it! The wind’s changed. Something’s happening. He’s not having it all his own way. His darkness is breaking up out in the world there. I wish I could see what is going on!”
It was the morning of the fifteenth of March, and over the Vale of Anduin the Sun was rising above the eastern shadow, and the south-west wind was blowing. Théoden lay dying on the Pelennor Fields.
As Frodo and Sam stood and gazed, the rim of light spread all along the line of the Ephel Dúath, and then they saw a shape, moving at a great speed out of the West, at first only a black speck against the glimmering strip above the mountaintops, but growing, until it plunged like a bolt into the dark canopy and passed high above them. As it went it sent out a long shrill cry, the voice of a Nazgûl; but this cry no longer held any terror for them: it was a cry of woe and dismay, ill tidings for the Dark Tower. The Lord of the Ringwraiths had met his doom. (VI/2)
The movie might have shown this with a brief shot of the Nazgûl flying away in fear after their captain had died, but I cannot really blame them for not doing so, since Tolkien’s own narration of the battle itself was unclear on this point in the published version.
The Pyre of Denethor, Part 1
Something that Tolkien is clear about, however, that the movie contradicts for the sake of imagery is that the White Tree is well and truly dead. As a symbol for Gondor, it had withered and died, possibly portending the end of Gondor itself. The White Tree itself was not reborn but was replaced by a scion of the Eldest of Trees like the White Tree itself is, much like how the line of Anárion was dead and could only be replaced by the line of Isildur, being long separated descendants of a common ancestor. I imagine that Jackson and co. did not want to add another scene with the discovery of the new White Tree at the point it would have taken place in the movie (after Aragorn’s coronation and before the departure from Minas Tirith in Book VI Chapter 5), hence they decided to add a shot in the Extended Edition of a blossom on the White Tree at the moment Denethor says there is no hope for Men. The rest of Denethor’s lines in this scene are essentially accurate as mostly condensed forms of his lines in the book.
One of these interesting lines that remained in the movie (even the theatrical version) is his statement that he and Faramir will burn like the heathen kings of old (or, in the book, “like heathen kings before ever a ship sailed hither from the West” [V/4]). This is certainly an evocative description in both film and book for pre-Númenórean kings (or, less likely, even kings prior to contact with the Elves from the West). This term developed as a reference to non-Christians and non-Jews, and yet it appears here in what is, by Tolkien’s account, a pre-Christian story. (I will not get into the complexities of religious/theological elements of Tolkien’s story and their relationship to Christian and particularly Roman Catholic theology and praxis here, but the story is definitely “pre-Christian” in the sense of being set in a theoretical time before Christ’s incarnation [Letters #165; #183; #211; #297].) Tolkien seems to regard the ancient wisdom received by the Númenóreans from the Elves of the Undying Lands to be a kind of precursor to the revelatory traditions of Judeo-Christianity. After all, there are senses in which the people of kingdoms like Gondor conduct (or are expected to conduct) themselves in ways that are distinct from their heathen forebears, much like how there were different expectations of kings when Christianity came to their lands than there were prior to that advent (the melding and conflict of such cultural intercourse is implicit in stories such as Beowulf, a story obviously quite important to Tolkien). Gandalf later says in the book, “‘Authority is not given to you, Steward of Gondor, to order the hour of your death,’ answered Gandalf. ‘And only the heathen kings, under the domination of the Dark Power, did thus, slaying themselves in pride and despair, murdering their kin to ease their own death’” (V/7). The movie only leaves in half of the evocation, but it still implies something significant about this world that is always assumed but never explored (at least, not in this particular story).
Shelob vs. The Hobbits
After some more fighting in Minas Tirith, the scene shifts back to Frodo as he is within sight of Cirith Ungol. Aside from the changes made to the story concerning Frodo and Sam, this scene is perfect in its suspenseful buildup. It is eerily quiet as no music plays over this scene and we see Shelob creeping from above Frodo’s line of sight. Then as he turns around to check if Shelob has come back, we see her stinger before he does. He turns back just in time for her to sting him. Shelob stings him in the chest in the movie, unlike in the book when she stings him in the neck (at least according to Shagrat). This adaptation choice has, of course, led to unnecessary questions about how Shelob got past Frodo’s mithril coat. In any case, if one pays close attention, Frodo seems to have worn this coat loosely, as it is not even visible in the shot when we can see his chest underneath his shirt. When we see the wound of where Shelob stung him, it appears to be above where the coat actually was.
Then we get the fight between Sam and Shelob. Sam’s late arrival is actually accurate to the book, but obviously the cause of his lateness is starkly different. In the book Sam was delayed by a hand-to-hand fight with Gollum, after which Gollum ran away (unlike in the movie where he falls down a dark hole after a fight with Frodo). The fight between them has some differences from the book. While Sam does properly stab out one of Shelob’s eyes, he does not gash her belly before the final stab. He also has the Phial of Galadriel out from the beginning of this fight, unlike in the book where it is a sort of finisher for him after a deadly blow (nor does he speak in Elvish in the movie version). Shelob tries to sting him multiple times in the movie, but we do not get a clear sense that Sam’s deadliest blow is only the result of Shelob trying to crush him with her massive weight, but instead impaling herself on a sword. After all, Tolkien makes clear that her hide is so tough that no swordsman that ever existed had the strength to pierce it with the best of swords, yet Shelob brings it about herself with the force of her fall. Because of the ambiguity of the movie’s presentation, it is unclear if this is a discontinuity with the book or not.
Still, there is an unfortunate consequence of the adaptation process of moving from book to film in this scene. The last chapter of TT—“The Choices of Master Samwise”—is one of the most important in the entire series as it brings about the lowest point in the story when it seems as if hope is nearly lost. Sam struggles to come to terms with Frodo’s apparent death and his responsibility to carry on the Quest in his stead. He tries for a short while to take the Ring, leave his Master in as good of a condition as he could manage, and continue the Quest. He even wears the Ring briefly and has a taste of the experience. But in the end, he finds that he cannot abandon Frodo and he follows the Orcs who come to take him away, even if it means endangering the Quest. He learns along the way that Frodo is not dead, but he is not able to save him at that time, which creates further suspense for the next book. This wonderful chapter in which Sam must struggle thoroughly through his conflicting convictions and obligations is essential for the story, the plot, and the character development of Sam. But the events of this chapter after Sam’s fight with Shelob occupy around two minutes of film time, including one minute in which Sam does not have much to say as he watches the Orcs from a distance. In fact, less than a minute passes in film time between when Sam says that Frodo is dead to when he finds out that he is not. That relieves the dramatic tension too quickly. I honestly do not think the audience would have minded if there was more suspense worked into this scene and more internal debate for Sam. Another problem is that we see later that Sam winds up with the Ring, but it is not clear from the way that this scene is shot how he got it. Unlike the book, the movie keeps Frodo in his web cocoon, only uncovering his face. There is no indication that Sam took the Ring here or how he would have done it. Even if Jackson and co. wanted to maintain suspense about the fate of the Ring, they could have at least had Sam remove the rest of the webbing on Frodo so that it would at least make sense when he appears with it later. In that scenario, we would not necessarily need to see Sam take the Ring; we would only need to be presented with the possibility of how he could have done it.
The Pyre of Denethor, Part 2
So let us go back to the story of Denethor and Faramir. I might as well address this in full here rather than wait for the next segment to complete it. One of the issues with the film version over and against the book version of this scene is that it is difficult to explain the incredibly slow pace with which the immolation is carried out to such an extent that the guards have brought all the wood and torches, but nicely wait for Pippin to run all the way down to the first or second level, to have time to find Gandalf, and to get him back right before they try to set fire to the pyre. The lighting in these scenes seems to suggest that at least a couple of hours have passed in the process. It is also not entirely clear (though it is perhaps explainable) why the guards do nothing to resist Gandalf and Pippin when they rescue Faramir but were nevertheless seemingly willing to follow Denethor’s will. This could have been filmed differently to avoid these holes—such as by having Pippin overhear Denethor’s command to bring wood and oil and have him try to stop him then before he runs to find Gandalf—but I must also acknowledge that this was a side-effect of omitting Beregond from the story. Beregond stopped this attempt at immolation in the book and killed guards in the process, which explains how Denethor’s design was delayed and how the guards were being kept at bay.
At the same time, Denethor’s death is also done differently. (This scene was shot in such a way that creative mirror work made a fire off the set look like it was burning the wood on the set, in order that the horse would not actually be spooked.) While he does set himself on fire, as in the book, he also initially does the same to Faramir (even though thanks to Pippin and Gandalf he gets out with only his clothes singed). He is knocked off the pyre to save Faramir and is then knocked back onto it when he attempts to take Faramir, where he then catches fire after realizing Faramir lives and proceeds to run out of the hall to plummet to his death at the end of the Citadel. Once again, I think the book version is more compelling. With Beregond’s help, Gandalf and Pippin stop Denethor from burning Faramir, and Gandalf tries to persuade Denethor to come down and join the fight, for there is much for him to do other than to despair. Denethor then laughs at Gandalf’s words of hope, thinking him foolish. He then says lines that were already used in Denethor’s introductory scene. But when Gandalf asks him what he would want if his will could prevail over the duty to surrender his charge to the coming king, he says something quite revealing. His vision of the future has become so distorted by despair that he could only see hope in things continuing as they had in the days when he had peace and to have a son sit on the throne that was like him. There is no hope for renewal, restoration, or transformation of the kingdom in his desired future, only continuation. His final resolve is similarly revealing, “But if doom denies this to me, then I will have naught: neither life diminished, nor love halved, nor honour abated” (V/7). Since he can no longer have things as he wills, he chooses to take action on the one thing that he can control: his own end. He sets the fire, breaks his steward’s staff over his knee, and lays down to die with the palantír in his hands. I suppose both types of character deaths are “in character” for the respective Denethors, but the death of book Denethor is better just as book Denethor in general was better.
This is a more minor point, but we clearly see and hear that women and children are still in Minas Tirith throughout this whole process. The book states that they were evacuated to southern Gondor so that they would not be at risk during the inevitable battle. Denethor and his council knew that the southern cities would also be attacked and there was nowhere that the women and children could be completely safe, but they knew their chances were better away from the thickest battle. I suspect that the women and children were added to this battle for the same reason that they were added to the Battle of the Hornburg: to create extra pathos in the midst of this intense battle sequence. It is not quite as effective here because the tactic was already used before and that use also featured a desperate draft to accentuate the pathos. Still, what effect it does have is due to the more immediate threat to their lives in this battle, as opposed to when we see the women and children in the Battle of the Hornburg.
The Ride of the Rohirrim
However, there is one element of pathos that this movie got absolutely right and that is the feeling inspired by the arrival of the Rohirrim (indeed, it was so enrapturing even on set that the actors and crew got swept up in the emotion of the charge, and they didn’t even hear the music). In stark contrast to what they did to the moment Tolkien was most grieved by, the moment he was most stirred by (Letter #165) is adapted incredibly well. The battle has gone poorly to this point and Minas Tirith seems poised on the precipice of doom. Then with the dawn of a new day—the unexpectedness of which was better conveyed in the book—the Rohirrim blow their horns to signal their arrival. Théoden’s commands to the army come later in the movie precisely because we never see their approach and I think they are placed effectively after the shocking spectacle of the gargantuan army marching in to destroy Minas Tirith while it burns. When the shock wears off, all doubt is erased as Théoden arranges a strategy for the charge and he rallies his troops as Shore’s perfect score swells triumphantly. The chant of “Death” and his immediately prior words of “Ride to ruin and the world’s ending” are actually attributed to Éomer in the aftermath of Théoden’s death as he leads what he thinks could be their last charge. Thus, attributing them to Théoden here serves an equivalent function of a final resolve for a charge to whatever end may come. And then Shore’s score once again rises to the surface and combines with the stunning visuals and resonant rumblings of the charge as the tide definitively turns in the battle with the unstoppable wave of the Rohirrim. With all of this, Jackson and co. have impressively adapted the charge of the Rohirrim and made it the stirring scene that Tolkien wrote it to be.
The Charge of the Mûmakil
The audience is given several shots of the Rohirrim routing the Orcs that massively outnumber them and we are allowed moments of relief and hope before the emotion sways once again wildly in the other direction as we see off in the distance the approach of several titanic Mûmakil. The once raging fire of hope is almost quenched in the face of such enemies. Although such a moment is not directly reflective of the book (since the Mûmakil are always part of the battle and do not come charging in at a specific point), it works incredibly well for the film as a stark contrast to the earlier charge of the Rohirrim. Théoden boldly reforms the riders for another charge directly at them, but these beasts with archers on top of them easily overwhelm their foes. They are not completely invulnerable, but the ones we see fall and the ones we see with veritable pincushions of arrows for legs show the audience that they can only be overcome with great effort, great sacrifice, or impeccably precise strategy and strikes. The battle is now in doubt, but its lowest point is yet to come.
White Shores
Within the walls of Minas Tirith, the movie version of the battle seems like it cannot get to a much lower point. Gandalf and Pippin are huddled along with relatively few soldiers of Minas Tirith behind a gate in the upper levels that the armies of Mordor are threatening to break through. Pippin despondently says to Gandalf that he did not think it would end this way for him. Gandalf comforts him, saying that the journey does not end at death; it is simply another path that all must take. Gandalf’s description of the afterlife—masterfully set to the chorus melody of “Into the West” in its first appearance in the movie—is, in fact, drawn from the description of Frodo’s experience sailing to the Undying Lands near the very end of the story (VI/9). It is yet another example of creative fidelity. Gandalf may have never said these words in comfort to Pippin in the book, but it is accurate to the book to describe the journey to the Undying Lands in the world of Tolkien in this way, and it is certainly powerful that Gandalf says them as words of comfort (all the more so since Pippin knows that Gandalf knows what he is talking about and is not simply trying to make him feel better). This was another stroke of genius credited to Fran Walsh.
The Lord of the Nazgûl Meets His Doom
The battle outside the city is also reaching its lowest point as the Lord of the Nazgûl and his fell beast swoop down to kill Théoden. The book has his horse Snowmane get shot with a black dart and he collapses on top of Théoden, crushing him, while the movie has the assault being more violent and direct. The encounter between the Lord of the Nazgûl and Éowyn is also altered. The revelation that she is a woman happens before he fights her rather than right before she kills him. Tolkien even notes that the Nazgûl was silent in response, as if in sudden doubt, for he surely realized that this was a possible loophole in the prophecy of Glorfindel. This change does not really bother me, however, and I think it is fine that this Nazgûl’s final moment so directly addresses the information with which he was introduced in the movie. Otherwise, it is accurate that she cuts off the fell beast’s head and that the Lord of the Nazgûl breaks her shield and shield arm with a mace (although it is a flail with an absurdly unwieldy heavy head in the movie; the video game was oddly more accurate in this regard). The movie has him try to choke her rather than strike her with a mace, as in the book. But these are all fairly small differences. The most significant one relates to a difference I noted all the way back in the FOTR. Not only do the Hobbits not get their Arnorian swords from the Barrow-downs, but the swords that they receive from Aragorn are not explicitly given this significance either. What’s more, Merry loses the sword that Aragorn gave him anyway at the end of the first movie and never gets it back. The blade he uses instead is an Elvish blade given to him by Galadriel in the Extended Edition of FOTR (I confirmed this by slowing the footage down to quarter speed). It may or may not be a fair assumption that this Elvish blade could harm the Witch-King, but it lacks the specific logic of the book. Aragorn notes in TT that the Arnorian blades are, “work of Westernesse, wound about with spells for the bane of Mordor” (III/1). In other words, aside from being high quality blades, they are specifically designed to inflict particular harm on certain enemies, including—as is shown later—the Witch-King of Angmar, the mortal enemy of Arnor. In ROTK Tolkien explains how Merry’s sword harmed the Lord of the Nazgûl—even if it withered in the end—when normal swords would not:
So passed the sword of the Barrow-downs, work of Westernesse. But glad would he have been to know its fate who wrought it slowly long ago in the North-kingdom when the Dúnedain were young, and chief among their foes was the dread realm of Angmar and its sorcerer king. No other blade, not though mightier hands had wielded it, would have dealt that foe a wound so bitter, cleaving the undead flesh, breaking the spell that knit his unseen sinews to his will. (V/6)
This is also what made him vulnerable to Éowyn’s sword thrust in what was the outline of his head.
The Death of Théoden
Éowyn later has a short scene in which she speaks with Théoden in his final moments. This is unique to the film because Théoden’s parting conversation is with Merry rather than Éowyn and he was not even aware that Éowyn had come with him. But what is kept from that scene is Théoden’s statement that his body is broken and that he is going to his fathers in whose company he shall not now be ashamed. This is another change that I do not mind so much. Since the movie, even in the Extended Edition, does not show us much of the relationship between Merry and Théoden, I think it is acceptable that it instead ends Théoden’s arc with another touching scene between him and his adopted daughter Éowyn, saying his last words to her. Another nice touch here is how, in light of their previous conversation, she keeps herself composed until he has breathed his last, and only then does she cry.
The Conclusion of the Battle of Pelennor Fields
To return to the main battle, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli arrive with the Army of the Dead to save the living. I have already noted how this is different from the book in that Aragorn brings an entirely different army than reinforcements from southern Gondor. And while it is impressive to see this force effortlessly overwhelm the armies of Mordor, some have criticized this decision as an anti-climactic ending due to how quickly and easily the Army of the Dead overwhelms their enemies before being dismissed to disappear. They certainly are a trump card for which the enemy has no answer, but I am not bothered by this so much, since I found it to provide another powerful swing of emotion and an effective means of relieving tension that had built up for a long time in this movie. However, I do have two other problems with this decision. First, it creates a bit of a problem for Aragorn’s characterization. Book Aragorn has the Oathbreakers fight for him once because he has the army that he needs and because he wishes to keep his word rather than stretch the meaning of it so that they could fight for him from here to Mordor. Movie Aragorn stretches their use to the Battle of Pelennor Fields itself because there are no soldiers to bring from southern Gondor, apparently. But this choice by the movie does seem to stretch Aragorn’s rightful meaning and makes him a double-dipper of sorts. Second, more significantly, it once again delays Aragorn taking his place as the commander of Men. He has led an Elf and a Dwarf, he has commanded Elves in battle, and now he commands the Army of the Dead. But he never commands living Men until the last battle before the gates of Mordor. Considering that he is supposed to be the King of Men, it is baffling that he never once leads or commands them until the last possible moment. I know he spends most of this story living in denial of his purpose, but that in and of itself need not have stopped him from being a commander of Men at some point, and we could have seen his effect on other Men in inspiring hope in them and empowering them to banish the darkness of despair from within and without. The book prepares us for Aragorn being a good king of Men in part by seeing him lead other Men, express his authoritative character and charisma, take charge when need be, and give courage and hope beyond the reckoning of the Men who did not know him before. These are factors that are understated at best or absent at worst in this aspect of Aragorn’s story, and unfortunately the presence of the Army of the Dead only exacerbates that problem.
Before this commentary concludes on the details of the Battle of Pelennor Fields, I should comment on the most spectacular—and obviously film-only—stunt of this battle and of the trilogy as a whole. Legolas uses arrows in the leg of an Oliphaunt to climb up it, dodging attacks from the Haradrim, picking them off, cutting off the tower from its back, firing a killing shot (of three arrows) into its head, and then proceeding to slight down its trunk until he lands on his feet. Was this stunt over-the-top? Sure. But it was acceptable as the sole example in the climactic movie, and it was plenty of fun when it was not surrounded by even more absurd stunts. The unfortunate and unintended result of this stunt was that when Jackson and co. made The Hobbit and decided to give Legolas a prominent role, they felt the need to go even bigger and more absurd. Even so, I think this scene is best remembered for Gimli’s line at the end, which culminated the tension relief and provided one of the funnier lines of this adaptation.
The Houses of Healing
The Extended Edition adds a scene that adapts the “The Houses of Healing” chapter. Except for Pippin finding Merry—though we do not see him brought to the Houses of Healing—the adaptation of the chapter is done almost completely visually with no dialogue. I like that this portion of the book was included in the Extended Edition, if for no other reason than to provide some explanation for why Faramir and Éowyn are standing together at Aragorn’s coronation. Oddly, this is one of the few chapters after Book I in which Tolkien writes humor to any significant extent, but it is not included here, despite the film trilogy’s additions in the humor department. We only see flashes of Aragorn’s healing activity, but not really his ability. The special healing power that shows that Aragorn is king is never glimpsed. According to an old saying in Gondor, “The hands of the king are the hands of a healer. And so the rightful king could ever be known.” But we do not see any particular healing ability from Aragorn, nor do we even see athelas, which was established earlier in FOTR as effective for the treatment that he provides. There are no qualities of healing reminiscent of Jesus’s healings of the sick or of his exorcisms, wherein he shows his power by his words. There is also no point at which we see Faramir acknowledging Aragorn as his king after his healing, Éowyn trying to come to terms with what has happened, or Merry’s response to his healing, all of which portray distinctly characteristic responses from each of them. I understand that you may not be able to fit all of this material into the movie in a satisfactory way, but I think at least Aragorn’s healing abilities could use clearer and more extensive portrayal, since that is ultimately what the chapter is built around.
The Tower of Cirith Ungol
The sequence at the Tower of Cirith Ungol is more streamlined and action-packed than in the book, as one might expect. There is no getting past the two Watchers of Cirith Ungol (although they did shoot a scene for it and Jackson has joked about including it in the 25th anniversary edition), no scene in which Sam puts on the Ring, no song sung by Sam when he did not know what else to do, and no visit by a Nazgûl to the Tower after Frodo and Sam had escaped. I would still say that the Tower looks appropriate for a Gondorian watchtower taken over by the Orcs but not corrupted in the same way as Minas Morgul. The events that take place within it are reflective enough of the basic plot of the book version. For some reason, though, certain things about the two central Orc captains—Shagrat and Gorbag—were changed. Gorbag is the one who explained how Shelob works, the one who intends to send the mithril shirt—along with everything else—to Sauron, and the one who threatens Frodo, whereas all of these actions are attributed to Shagrat in the book. Gorbag is also different in appearance in the book, and he is killed by Shagrat, instead of Sam. I am not sure why some of these changes were made, but they work well enough in the movie that the changes do not create a significant gap in quality.
One result of the scene at the Tower, besides rescuing Frodo and continuing the Quest, is shown in the Extended Edition. Shagrat takes the mithril shirt with him, as he does in the book, and it eventually ends up in the possession of Sauron. In another scene that is also only in the Extended Edition, we see that the Mouth of Sauron has it as a token to show the captains of the Army of the West and thus this current scene explains how it came into his possession. It is interesting that Jackson and co. made sure to stick close to this particular small detail, at least in the Extended Edition.
The Last Debate
When Gandalf, Aragorn, and others are having the Last Debate (minus Prince Imrahil, of course), Gandalf says a line that I have always found odd. When Gimli suggests that they all leave Sauron in Mordor to rot, Gandalf says that will not do because, “10,000 Orcs now stand between Frodo and Mount Doom.” I know that this is a nitpick, but why go with 10,000? By this point, we have already seen the Orcs in Mordor and there are clearly more than 10,000. Tens of thousands there definitely are, but not only 10,000. This is neither here nor there as far as adaptation goes because it is not consistent with the book or the visuals of the movie.
Another interesting change in this scene is that the diversion by the Army of the West is Aragorn’s idea instead of Gandalf’s. When Gandalf finishes summarizing the situation in the book, he presents this tactic as the only viable option, since there is no chance for them to achieve victory by strength of arms (as Éomer says in the movie). Gandalf is also the one who provides assurance that Sauron will take the bait for this trap, rather than the one who poses that objection. I suppose it is a late attempt to portray Aragorn as the one who takes charge, and it also serves—in the Extended Edition at least—as the setup for Aragorn’s scene of challenging Sauron through the palantír. As much as these aspects differ from the book, I think they are fine for what they are. What I really miss is that none of the great quotes from this chapter are featured in the movie, such as the following:
“Other evils there are that may come; for Sauron is himself but a servant or emissary. Yet it is not our part to master all the tides of the world, but to do what is in us for the succor of those years wherein we are set, uprooting the evil in the fields that we know, so that those who live after may have clean earth to till. What weather they shall have is not ours to rule.”
“We must walk open-eyed into that trap, with courage, but small hope for ourselves. For, my lords, it may well prove that we ourselves shall perish utterly in a black battle far from the living lands; so that even if Barad-dûr be thrown down, we shall not live to see a new age. But this, I deem, is our duty. And better so than to perish nonetheless—as we surely shall, if we sit here—and know as we die that no new age shall be.”
“As I have begun, so I will go on. We come now to the very brink, where hope and despair are akin. To waver is to fall. Let none now reject the counsels of Gandalf, whose long labours against Sauron come at last to their test. But for him all would long ago have been lost.”
“I have little knowledge of these deep matters; but I need it not. This I know, and it is enough, that as my friend Aragorn succoured me and my people, so I will aid him when he calls. I will go.” (V/9)
If even one of these had made it into the movie, I would have been happy, though I must admit that I am partial to the first one.
Faramir and Éowyn
Understandably, we do not get the full Faramir and Éowyn romance; we only get a glimpse. And apparently there was a scene filmed of their wedding, featuring what the award-winning costume designer Ngila Dickson regarded as her best work, but no footage of this was included even as a special feature on the Extended Edition DVDs. The only thing remarkable about the one scene that represents it is when Éowyn describes how cold it has become, implying what she thinks the coldness forebodes, and Faramir responds that it is, “the damp of the first spring rain.” That is not a line taken from Tolkien, so to whoever wrote that, well done. In the contexts of both of their stories, that line has multiple layers of significance. For Faramir, if he followed the book more closely, it shows his inspirational quality and the manner in which his keen insight can give others hope. Indeed, this insight of his is a commentary on the coming renewal of the city, the kingdom, and even of his own life after he had been on the doorstep of death. And it is especially significant for Faramir to say it after he had given up on life in expectation of dying in the charge against Osgiliath. For Éowyn, this line is reminiscent of Gríma’s description of her being, “like a morning of pale spring still clinging to winter’s chill,” but it obviously comes from someone whose intentions are not so impure. He mentions no winter, only the spring. In the same way, Faramir will be the one to bring lasting warmth to and from her after all the time she has spent growing cold to the cruel world and cruel time in which she lives, as Éowyn herself has helped inspire him to find new life after his attempt to die because he thought he would never have his father’s love. In the Houses of Healing where she thought she would find nothing but prolonged death, she has now found a way to new life. This scene has rather economically given us a taste of what could be in the dynamic between these two characters. Unfortunately (even if understandably), this is all we really get for this romance that Tolkien constructed well. The omission of the romantic arc leaves both of these characters without a resonant conclusion to their respective character arcs.
Nobody Expects the Orcish Inspection
Another short addition to the Extended Edition does not fare so well in my judgment. As Frodo and Sam are sneaking through Mordor in their Orc disguises, they get swept up in a company march—which is in the book and the scene includes lines from the book (VI/2)—until they get stopped for an inspection. Within the logic of the story of the movie (since this is not in the book), I honestly have no idea why there is an Orc inspection, especially since this is an army just marching to the Gate. We do not know what is being inspected or why and it makes little sense to have an inspection for Orcs, who serve mostly as sword and arrow fodder and are supposed to overwhelm their enemies with superior numbers. As I see it, there are two reasons why this part of the scene is here. One, it adds extra suspense to what was already a tense scene in the book. Two, they had to have a scene to show off the face of the Orc inspector, which is one of the best Orc designs in the trilogy. It fulfills those functions well enough, even if the addition of the inspection does not make sense.
The Land of Shadow
The Extended Edition also includes a significant scene from book in which Sam spots a star above the seemingly impenetrable clouds of Mordor. He tries to tell Frodo that there is light and beauty up there that no shadow can touch, but Frodo is asleep. I like that this part is here, but I must admit that it is understated compared to the book version:
There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach. His song in the Tower had been defiance rather than hope; for then he was thinking of himself. Now, for a moment, his own fate, and even his master’s, ceased to trouble him. He crawled back into the bramble and laid himself by Frodo’s side, and putting away all fear he cast himself into a deep untroubled sleep. (VI/2)
I cannot help but wish this scene was in the theatrical version due to its significance, but I like that it was included in the Extended Edition. One can imagine a similar scene played out in Tolkien’s own life, looking to the stars above the wreck and ruin of WW1 and being struck by the transcendent beauty in the sky. And here Sam is, in the darkest and most oppressive of all lands in Middle-earth, catching a glimpse of beauty that Sauron can only cover up but not destroy.
However, the tone of this short scene clashes with the next one of Frodo and Sam just a few seconds later. Frodo takes his last drink and observes that there will be none left for the return journey, showing that Sam’s hope had left an impression on him. Yet now Sam says that he doesn’t think there will be a return journey. This brings that line from the first scene with Sam and Frodo full circle as Sam reflects on the difficulty of their journey and begins to think that this is a one-way trip. It is true that in the book Sam goes back and forth in the journey across Mordor between hope and sheer stubbornness in the midst of despair, but the short time between these two scenes causes a significant tonal shift that is a bit jarring. Maybe that is why the first one was cut from the theatrical version. Obviously, I prefer the first scene because it is more directly reflective of something in the book, but in any case the theatrical version does make more sense with its omission of one of these scenes. They might have both worked together better in the movie if there was more separation between them.
Another scene that was not in the book that I found surprising was the point in the movie when Sauron actually sees Frodo, as in the Lidless Eye is looking directly at him. This is made worse by the fact that when Frodo turns around, the Ring is in plain sight to the Eye. This is a prime example of trying too hard to create suspense at the sacrifice of your story’s logic. Why in the world would Sauron not do anything if he sees a Halfling and the Ring within his realm? If he did not see the Ring, how could he not see it? This was a needless hole in the story created by being overzealous in adding suspense.
The Black Gate Opens
I suppose now that I might as well say something about the Army of the West. The movie says that this was the full strength they gathered, which I suppose Jackson and co. regarded as a necessary change after the forces of Gondor and Rohan sustained even heavier casualties in the movie than in the book and there were no reinforcements from southern Gondor. As far as we can tell, unlike in the book, they are leaving Minas Tirith unprotected in a desperate gambit. Also, the army seems to be smaller than the book version. In the book the Army of the West sets out from Minas Tirith 7,000 strong, but after leaving a guard of archers near the Cross-roads and after some soldiers were allowed to go take and defend Cair Andros if their hearts were not up for the march to Mordor, the army had less than 6,000. The army in the movie seems to be significantly smaller. Ultimately, this difference in size is noticeable but does not have a significant impact on the story; it is merely the consequence of other decisions made earlier in the adaptation process.
As in the book, the first encounter the Captains of the West have in the Extended Edition at the Black Gate is with the Mouth of Sauron (without his escort). The design of this character is wonderfully over-the-top (so that you only see his mouth, not even his eyes, as they saw in the book) and he is played appropriately by Bruce Spence to boot (though his mouth is made even larger through computer enhancement). He does not speak as extensively with the Captains as in the book, wherein he is even more insolent, and what lines he does have are drawn from the book with varying degrees of exactitude. He only shows one token: the aforementioned mithril shirt. Unfortunately, a terrible change has snuck into this scene that is rightly criticized by many. Namely, to stop the deceit and sowing of despair, Aragorn decapitates the Mouth of Sauron. The immorality of this is so well known that it is proverbial: “don’t kill the messenger.” This is supposed to be the great, noble, exemplary King of Men and yet he falls afoul of this basic principle simply because he is angry and does not like what the messenger is saying. This action is also directly contradictory to the book:
Aragorn said naught in answer, but he took the other’s eye and held it, and for a moment they strove thus; but soon, though Aragorn did not stir nor move hand to weapon, the other quailed and gave back as if menaced with a blow. “I am a herald and ambassador, and may not be assailed!” he cried.
“Where such laws hold,” said Gandalf, “it is also the custom for ambassadors to use less insolence. But no one has threatened you. You have naught to fear from us, until your errand is done. But unless your master has come to new wisdom, then with all his servants you will be in great peril.” (V/10)
In short, there was no good reason for this decision within the context of the story or in the context of what the filmmakers needed to do.
I do not have much to say about Aragorn’s rallying speech to the Army of the West. Like most people, I am a fan of it. It does not come from the book, so this speech is simply a result of talent on the part of the writers and on the part of Viggo Mortensen in his delivery:
Hold your ground! Hold your ground! Sons of Gondor! Of Rohan! My brothers! I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me! A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship. But it is not this day. An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the age of Men comes crashing down! But it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good Earth, I bid you stand! Men of the West!
It is not quite the St. Crispin’s Day speech of Henry V, but it has entered the canons of popular consciousness alongside the speeches from films such as Braveheart as epic and moving battle speeches. It is also the moment when we see clearly for the first time Aragorn speaking to Men as their King, the first time we see him actually lead Men into battle. It is a fitting culmination of all the built-up anticipation to this point, but I have made clear multiple times that I think the book version of his character is superior.
One minor change introduced here also requires comment. In the book Merry is left at the Houses of Healing to recuperate after his part in slaying the Witch-King of Angmar. But here he joins Pippin in the charge at the final battle before the Black Gate. This ultimately undersells the impact of Merry coming into contact with the Witch-King, but it is hardly an unacceptable change. Rather, all those who remain of the Fellowship are brought to this scene to give Frodo his chance, and it makes sense for it to be so ordered.
While it is not in the movie, there is one potential scene that I need to comment on here. Jackson and co. filmed a scene in which Sauron himself comes forth and fights Aragorn at the Black Gate. He initially has the appearance of Annatar, his original angelic form (in contradiction to The Silmarillion, which says that he could never take a fair form again after the destruction of Númenor), and then takes on the appearance that we saw in the prologue back in FOTR. This would have served as a bookend with the Battle of the Last Alliance with Isildur’s heir combatting the one his ancestors fought to destroy. However, as Jackson and co. properly realized, this would have been severely degrading to the book at the expense of an action scene. Jackson himself noted in the special features that this would have taken away from Frodo and Sam’s role at the center of the story. Aragorn’s heroism was not simply pursued by a different route (direct combat of the Enemy vs. destroying his Ring); it was heroism in service and sacrifice to a Quest that he knew was more important. He knew he was going to serve as a diversion and a sacrifice; and he had no plan to do more, should the Quest fail. While I wish the filmmakers had thought better about some other changes they planned to make (especially with the scene I spent so much space talking about), I am certainly glad that they decided not to make this change. Instead, they have him fight a troll by rotoscoping that image over what were originally shots of Sauron.
Mount Doom
I also must mention here that Howard Shore has done some impressive work in providing the audience with amazing music as the plot reaches its climax. The triumphant horns, the singers signaling danger and relief, and the strings conveying everything else in between are expertly utilized as we slowly build to the crescendo. But two parts have always struck me the most deeply. One is the use of the flute as Frodo is making his excruciating climb up the side of Mount Doom as his strength fails. It is reminiscent of the Hobbit theme and a musical reinforcement of how the grand scale of the fate of Middle-earth ultimately comes down to what happens with these two Hobbits climbing up a mountain. And, two, I especially love how that flute transitions into the horns that foreshadow the melody of the concluding song “Into the West” as Sam puts Frodo on his shoulders and carries him up the mountain.
What Frodo says when Sam tries to comfort him with memories of the Shire is drawn mostly from his actual lines in the book (VI/3), although the book version of this line does not appear quite this late in the journey (though the line and the corresponding part of the book are in the same chapter). The Ring’s hold on him is so strong at this point that he can no longer recall memories of the Shire, as they have become fading specters to him as all he sees is the wheel of fire. This line will also be significant for what he says to Sam later that is not reflected in the book.
But before I get to that, I might as well say something about the presence of the Eagles at this time, in part by quoting my general notes about the Eagles from my review of The Hobbit:
Now let’s talk about the Eagles. People do not like their role as deus ex machina and Tolkien struggled with this fact of their existence as well (Letter #210). He realized that they were more of a burden on his writing than he realized when he first involved them in his story, and he tried to limit their involvement. People tend to exaggerate how often Tolkien uses them as a plot device: twice in The Hobbit, three times in LOTR, and more frequently in The Silmarillion. The last point fits with the direct presence of the Valar in Arda because the Eagles are the servants of Manwë, the king of the Valar (and properly of all Arda) and chief servant of Eru Ilúvatar in creation. As such, they are a more concrete—though far from the only—instrument of divine providence, which is an important element in Tolkien’s stories. And in The Hobbit and LOTR, their presence is always tied to Gandalf, who is a Maia servant of the Valar sent on a mission to help Middle-earth against Sauron in the Third Age, and who saved their chief (later named Gwaihir). Their involvement in The Hobbit is related to this last deed as they repay the debt owed to him by saving him and his company, and it is related to their observation of an army being assembled to march on Erebor and their help to protect Gandalf and the lands of the North. They are able to do these actions because their Eyrie is in the Misty Mountains and from there they go out to keep watch.
I give all of this backstory and explanation because none of it is in the films. Furthermore, the Eagles speak in Tolkien’s world, which goes toward justifying their presence at particular moments (as Tolkien attempts to use them sparingly and explain each use), but they never speak in the movies (whether in The Hobbit or LOTR). They always just show up. Most of the time, their arrival is tied to this insect that Gandalf speaks to (a movie-only invention). But one has to wonder how fast that insect can fly, because in this movie Gandalf talks to that insect and within a few minutes the Eagles show up. There is no explanation that they were in the area and saw what was happening, it is all tied to that silly bug. So yes, when they appear in the movies, the moments have more of a feeling of, “Well, I’m not sure how else to get out of this, let’s just throw the Eagles in there.”
The three times I mentioned in LOTR are when Gandalf escapes Orthanc (shown in FOTR, though it is not said there that the Eagle was sent by Radagast), when Gandalf needs to be taken from Zirakzigil when he returns as Gandalf the White (not shown in TT), and here. Apart from the Eagles apparently not being able to talk, the representation of their role here is accurate to the book.
Another aspect of this whole sequence that deserves comment is the struggle between Frodo, Sam, and Gollum as they approach the final destination. Because Gollum’s character arc was changed and because no significance is given to Sam’s time with the Ring—it is introduced as a bit of a surprise at Cirith Ungol—the movie misses an opportunity for a memorable moment when Sam is fighting Gollum:
Sam’s hand wavered. His mind was hot with wrath and the memory of evil. It would be just to slay this treacherous, murderous creature, just and many times deserved; and also it seemed the only safe thing to do. But deep in his heart there was something that restrained him; he could not strike this thing lying in the dust, forlorn, ruinous, utterly wretched. He himself, though only for a little while, had borne the Ring, and now dimly he guessed the agony of Gollum’s shriveled mind and body, enslaved to that Ring, unable to find peace or relief ever in life again. But Sam had no words to express what he felt.
“Oh, curse you, you stinking thing!” he said. “Go away! Be off! I don’t trust you, not as far as I could kick you; but be off. Or I shall hurt you, yes, with nasty cruel steel.” (VI/3)
This is the last iteration of a motif in the book, whereby the pity of Bilbo, then Frodo, and now Sam has brought Gollum to the point where his final decision will rule the fate of Middle-earth. As much as Gollum responded wrongly to each of these acts of pity, the pity nevertheless ensured that he would play his most crucial role in destroying the Ring.
The movie’s adaptation of that particular event is also notable on one point. While it was accurate to the book to have Frodo claim the Ring for himself at the last moment, Gollum and Frodo fight over it while Sam is incapacitated, and Gollum bite Frodo’s Ring finger off (after which Gollum stands up straight for the first time in the trilogy), a change is inserted in having Frodo and Gollum struggle over it again and having this struggle result in Gollum’s death. In the book Gollum is so overexcited at finally getting his Precious back (which is reflective of the book) that he loses his footing and falls into the fire below. This really seems more appropriate instead of a struggle that prolongs the scene. It also seems odd in light of the trilogy’s overall tendency to lessen Frodo’s agency, only to reverse that tendency here.
However, there are a few points to be said in the defense of that last part. One, Frodo does not push Gollum into the fire. It may seem that I should not need to say that, but I have seen that criticism and I am flabbergasted at how such an interpretation could arise from looking at this scene charitably, when it is clear that they are both pulling for the Ring. In fact, Jackson explicitly says that they shot a different version of this scene in which Frodo pushed Gollum, but realized that this would not work for the characters, particularly since it would make Frodo a murderer. Second, the scene achieves the same end as the book and the fact that Frodo does not, in fact, destroy the Ring remains intact as part of the story. If anything, the fact that he struggled for the Ring one last time makes all the more poignant his subtly communicated emotions about the Ring’s destruction and his failure to finish the task, as he knows how desperately he wanted the Ring. Providence is still at work here through Frodo’s earlier pity in the fact that Frodo and Gollum are there at all, as well as that Sam is there to save Frodo, and that the Ring is destroyed despite Frodo’s intention not being to destroy the Ring or throw Gollum into the fire. Third, given the film’s approach to telling this story with the shifting back and forth between plot lines, the book’s version of the scene could be considered anticlimactic in the film medium, while the film’s version builds suspense as we approach the final resolution. Fourth, the movie provides an occasion that the book does not for Sam to save Frodo one last time—both physically and emotionally—from falling into the magma like Gollum, showing once again how Sam is the chief hero of this story.
The Reunion of the Fellowship
Now we are getting into the territory where more people are critical of ROTK. I am referring to the “Million Endings” criticism. Since I had read the books recently before the first time I watched the last two movies, I was never thrown off by multiple scenes that people thought were the ending of the movie on the first viewing. In addition to that, some think the movie takes too long to end after the Ring is destroyed. On the first point, I must admit that some of the editing decisions were odd, in that the movie fades to black or fades to white for a few seconds, but then slowly returns images to the screen. Yet, really all that this criticism boils down to is the editing techniques used, as the movie ending at any point prior to when it did would have resulted in an inferior product and an inferior adaptation. But on the second point, one must remember that the ending of ROTK is also the ending of the trilogy, not just of this movie. From that perspective, the twenty minutes the movie takes to end is hardly unreasonable for an eleven-hour-plus journey (or a nine-hour-plus journey in the theatrical releases). More importantly, though, this criticism simply represents a misunderstanding (or at least lack of appreciation) of the writing of both the book and the movie. The movie is not directly reflective of the book at this point, but it is generally accurate to the book that there is a significant gap between its plot climax and its story climax. There are a lot of story threads to tie up before the story itself can properly be concluded and the book takes its time in doing so. The movie does not have nearly as many story threads, but it still has plenty, nonetheless. While in most movies the plot climax and story climax will be so close together as to be almost or practically identical and there will be little falling action thereafter before the conclusion, LOTR is different. Its plot has been brought to a climax with the destruction of the Ring in Mount Doom, but its story is not wrapped up because the themes and story threads have not all been brought to their proper climax simply with the destruction of the Ring. The story still must feature the renewal of the final affirmation of the bonds of friendship in the Fellowship, the consummation of Aragorn’s decision to accept his destiny via his coronation, the exaltation of the Hobbits, the return of the Hobbits to the Shire, and Frodo’s realization that the Shire has been saved, but not for him, and that his fate must take him elsewhere to find peace.
On this last point of the story, the movie begins building on that from the first time Frodo speaks after the destruction of the Ring, and this is helped along by Wood’s acting. He realizes that the Ring is destroyed, but the way he says it is done and the expressions his face makes indicate that he is not as jubilant as he should be. His relief is restrained by the longing for the Ring that had so recently taken him over—to the point that one could interpret the tense scene of him hanging from the ledge as considering whether or not he too should fall into the fire with the Ring, as Gollum had done—and he is cognizant of the fact that he brought the Ring so far only to fail to do what he came to do. Naturally, there is an incredible mix of emotions here. He does not, as in the book, reflect on Gollum and how the Quest is successful only because of him, nor does he say that they should thus forgive him. While I really wish that was in the movie, what they did with Frodo from here is still functionally good anyway. The rest is left for us viewers to logically piece together ourselves. As the relief is setting in more, he tells Sam that he can finally see the Shire as it exists in his memory. He sees things in it: the Brandywine River, Bag End, Gandalf’s fireworks, and lights in the Party Tree. But Sam sees a person, a person he would want to make a future with in Rosie Cotton. Slowly, these two characters are drifting apart and it starts with what they see when they see the Shire.
Then we have the reunion scene of the Fellowship, which is not a direct adaptation of any particular scene from the book, although the reunion took place at the Field of Cormallen, which does not appear in the movie (lest people complain even more about how long the ending is). The way it is shot here is perfectly incremental as Frodo sees again Gandalf, Merry and Pippin, Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn, and finally Sam. The scene allows us to reflect for a bit on the memories we have formed with each of these characters since the beginning and how much catching up they will have to do with Frodo. Because we have been given time and opportunities to form connections with each and every one of these characters, this scene works much better than its equivalent with the Dwarves in The Hobbit. What’s more, it is appropriate that Sam enters last, not only because he shared the entirety of the Quest with Frodo, but also because of the shift in emotion that takes place here. Frodo is properly jubilant at seeing everyone again, as he has spent the last several weeks not knowing about anything that was happening to them. But when Sam comes in, Frodo is faced again with the reality of what happened on Mount Doom and the smile he is able to muster now is no more than a knowing look exchanged with Sam. He is continuing to drift away from the life that he once knew, all that he sought to save.
The Crowning of the King and the Hobbits
The next scene features Aragorn’s coronation and the blooming of the White Tree. I have already commented on the latter, but how does the former compare to the book? The movie version has Gimli bear the pillow on which rested the crown of Gondor (understated by the book’s standards, but still a good-looking crown) and Gandalf crowns Aragorn. I think this would have been better if it was slightly altered to fit better with the book. Faramir could have tried to hand the crown to Aragorn, but then Aragorn could say what he said in the book, “By the labour and valour of many I have come into my inheritance. In token of this I would have the Ring-bearer bring the crown to me, and let Mithrandir set it upon my head, if he will; for he has been the mover of all that has been accomplished, and this is his victory.” This more directly explains why Gandalf is crowning Aragorn and it gives us more insight into Aragorn’s relationship with him and Frodo, as well as more insight into Aragorn’s character. Gandalf’s words accompanying the crowning are most of what he says in the book, although he does not invoke the Valar, as he does there. Still, I must say that there is a nice touch here in that the armor Aragorn wears for the coronation is Elendil’s armor. This is yet another detail that viewers will not readily recognize on first watch, but it shows the care and attention to detail that went into so many aspects of these movies.
Aragorn’s song is another bit of creative fidelity, since Aragorn does say these words in the ceremony, albeit prior to his actual crowning. The translation of these words—the same words that Elendil himself said when he settled in Middle-earth after the destruction of Númenor—is as follows: “Out of the Great Sea to Middle-earth I am come. In this place will I abide, and my heirs, unto the ending of the world” (VI/5). We also have here a bit of telescoped narrative—sometimes necessary in film adaptations and used in various ways in these movies—as Arwen arrives now instead of several weeks after the coronation. They have a joyful reunion after all of this time apart, and while we do not see their wedding, we know it will happen.
Finally, there is a great moment here that did not happen in the book but is important for its continued development of what I have been tracking here so far (and for the continued highlighting of Wood’s acting). As Aragorn and Arwen are making their way through the crowd, they come to the four Hobbits and the Hobbits begin to bow to them. But Aragorn insists that they bow to no one and then he leads everyone on the Citadel in bowing to the Hobbits. This was a wonderful moment that, even though it was not in the book, presents a perfect visual representation of the exaltation of the humble and the ennoblement of the simple and ordinary. At the same time, the expressions of the Hobbits are noteworthy. Merry and Pippin are quite taken with this gesture, but Frodo and Sam wear blank, almost uncomfortable expressions. This stems from the fact that they know what happened on the Quest and especially on Mount Doom. In their minds, this honor simply does not feel right. Frodo is becoming ever more disconnected from this world, even as he has received his due honor for doing as much as (and even more than) what could have been expected of him. Frodo agrees, even if Sam and the author do not, with the occasional criticism that Frodo is not a proper hero, and we see it written on his face here. But Jackson, like Sam and Tolkien, want the audience to recognize that he did what he could, and he ought to be acknowledged as a hero for doing more than anyone could have rightly expected.
Return to the Shire
This is another extremely minor point, but I could not help but notice after this scene that Frodo said the Fourth Age of Middle-earth began at that time. I am honestly not sure how this misconception was reached when there is a chronological appendix in the book. The Fourth Age did not begin until the Last Riding of the Keepers of the Rings. Essentially, the penultimate scene of the movie is the end of the Third Age, and the final scene is in the Fourth Age.
While the vast majority of material from chapters 4 through 8 of Book VI was omitted in the movie, perhaps the most controversial was the omission of the Scouring of the Shire. This event was essential to the story of the book for reasons that Gandalf foreshadows near the end of the previous chapter, “I am not coming to the Shire. You must settle its affairs yourselves; that is what you have been trained for. Do you not yet understand? My time is over: it is no longer my task to set things to rights, nor to help folk to do so. And as for you, my dear friends, you will need no help. You are grown up now. Grown indeed very high; among the great you are, and I have no longer any fear at all for any of you” (IV/7). This is the point in a quest narrative—though it is not a universal feature—when the quester(s) returns and applies the lessons learned and the characteristics forged abroad to the issues at home. The four Hobbits will use their wisdom from their quest to solve the problem of evil in their own home, where most of their fellows have no experience or wisdom in how to deal with such situations. The movie, already running at three hours at this point in the theatrical version and around four hours in the Extended Edition, cannot get away with adding another conflict this late in the game after the climax of the plot. And since the first movie did not introduce us to many Hobbits outside of the Fellowship—it only introduced by name the Sackville-Bagginses, Rosie Cotton, and Farmer Maggot, as well as all the families Bilbo references in his speech—adapting the Scouring of the Shire story would have required the introduction of multiple characters so late in the movie and the trilogy. The absence of the Scouring also fits with the story of the movie. What Frodo saw in Galadriel’s Mirror was a representation of what something like the Scouring of the Shire might have looked like. But it was presented as a consequence if the Quest failed. Since the Quest succeeded, it was appropriate for them to come back to a Shire that was more or less as they left it, untouched by the outside world as it has virtually always been.
On that note, I would like to say something about the scene at the Green Dragon. This is a fantastic scene in which the four Hobbits do not say a word to each other, but we can tell how they feel, what they are thinking, and the character of their connections to each other. This kind of scene is possible only when a firm foundation of characterization has been laid beforehand and that is exactly what these movies have done. The change the movie made in omitting the Scouring of the Shire means that no one in the Shire has any sense of what these four Hobbits have done. No one else knows, but they know what they have done for the Shire. And they will never be the same because of it.
The scene then transitions into Sam finally gathering the courage to talk to Rosie. We don’t know what was said or done exactly, but we know it amuses Sam’s friends and it eventually leads to their wedding. I have already said something about this romance in my FOTR review and although I definitely wish there was more detail given on it in the movies, the movie still conveys that their relationship is an outcome of Sam’s character arc, as he has gathered courage along the way and realized that the reason he wanted to come back to the Shire was to marry her. And so their simple, rustic love is embodied in marriage, bringing Sam’s dreams to pass. He has found his happy ending, but Frodo still has not. We see at the wedding that he is happy for his best friend, but Frodo’s happiness is once again subdued. Even on this joyous occasion he realizes that he will not find ultimate peace in the Shire. He is becoming more distant from Sam even as he is becoming more distant from the Shire.
Indeed, the next scene tells us as much as Frodo narrates with these words: “How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart, you begin to understand, there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep, that have taken hold.” This is perfectly fine as a paraphrase of Frodo’s struggles in the closing chapter of the book foreshadowed at several points prior. The impact of this feeling as it is reflected in the book is much greater because the book makes thoroughly clear that Frodo lingers on the many things he must bid farewell to in the Shire before and as he is leaving, he thinks of it multiple times during the Quest, and his desire—for as long as he is able to hold on to it—is to return there if at all possible. But he finds in his return that he can no longer find peace there, that the wounds of the past overwhelm his present and his vision of the future. Unfortunately, when he said goodbye to the Shire when he first set out on his Quest, there is a sense in which that really was his last goodbye to the Shire he knew and loved. Even when the Shire is renewed, improved, and made more beautiful than it has ever been, Frodo finds no lasting comfort in it for the pains of body and spirit that continue to trouble him. (On a minor note, I am not sure why the time Frodo gives between the Lord of the Nazgûl stabbing him and this moment was four years, when it was almost three years between his stabbing and when he left for the Grey Havens and two years when he made mention of it in the book equivalent.) Knowing this, he writes what he is able to in his memoirs The Downfall of the Lord of the Rings and the Return of the King, but he leaves the last pages for Sam to complete. This is reflected in the movie as well, although the title is obviously simplified. As I noted back in the FOTR review, this is reflective of the fact that the Red Book of Westmarch is supposed to form the basis of this story (as well as The Hobbit).
The Grey Havens
And finally, we come to the Grey Havens and the conclusion of Frodo’s story in Middle-earth. For a setting that is not in the movie for that long, I quite like how the Grey Havens look. It is almost how one would picture a Rivendell harbor to look. And the lighting through the entry/exit of the port is just perfect. Rarely has the film-making description of this time of day as “the golden hour” been so appropriate as in this scene. It is representative of the sun setting on this age of Middle-earth and on this story. The bearers of the Rings are now about to sail off into that sunset. However, it is unclear why Celeborn is here at this moment, since he never bore a Ring of Power. Of all characters to give a more conclusive ending than the book does at this time, they chose him? I guess they thought they needed three Elves for the three Rings because the movies never mentioned that Gandalf bore Narya, the Ring of Fire (but it is shown here), though that still does not explain why Celeborn is taking this ship with these Ring-bearers. It may be something so simple as that the audience would think it odd that Galadriel is leaving and not Celeborn (although it works out in the book that Celeborn only leaves Middle-earth later, and they have been together for millennia anyway). Gandalf’s lovely parting words with the Hobbits are also drawn from the book as a slightly condensed version of what he said to them there (VI/9).
This sequence has also involved the conclusion of Bilbo’s story. Given that the book had the advantage of building off the foundation of The Hobbit, it was obviously more narratively and emotionally impactful there. Still, this movie has ways of making up for that lack. First, we see Bilbo talking with Frodo in a wagon on the way to the Grey Havens. He has a bit of dialogue with him that corresponds with dialogue he had with him in Rivendell on the return journey to the Shire in the book. He asks if he might see that old Ring of his before Frodo tells him that he lost it. Even after all this time, Bilbo still feels an attachment to it, although the way Ian Holm delivers the line leads us to think that there is no greedy possessiveness behind it anymore, just a hole left behind in him. Frodo is thus reaffirmed in his decision, since Bilbo shows him what could be his future otherwise. Second, the makeup on Ian Holm shows us how much more aging has caught up to Bilbo since he has been without the Ring. In the book, this was something of a point of pride as he officially passes the Old Took as the oldest Hobbit of the Shire ever, but it obviously came at a cost. In the movie we see this toll both physically and mentally. Under ordinary circumstances, Bilbo looks like he would be ready for the tomb. But then, third, we see his reaction to the opportunity presented to him to take this ship with the other Ringbearers. For his last line, Ian Holm drops his old man voice and says in the voice we first heard from him back in FOTR, “I think I’m quite ready for another adventure!” This allows us one last chance to smile before joy and sadness begin mixing.
More importantly, we get Frodo’s departure here, which, combined with Shore’s perfect music, gets to me every time. Frodo explains to Sam, “We set out to save the Shire, Sam. And it has been saved, but not for me.” This is a shortened version of what he tells Sam in the book, which I think is worth quoting in full here:
I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me. It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: some one has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them. But you are my heir: all that I had and might have had I leave to you. And also you have Rose, and Elanor; and Frodo-lad will come, and Rosie-lass, and Merry, and Goldilocks, and Pippin; and perhaps more that I cannot see. Your hands and your wits will be needed everywhere. You will be the Mayor, of course, as long as you want to be, and the most famous gardener in history; and you will read things out of the Red Book, and keep alive the memory of the age that is gone, so that people will remember the Great Danger and so love their beloved land all the more. And that will keep you as busy and as happy as anyone can be, as long as your part of the Story goes on. (VI/9)
Personally, I would have liked for at least the second sentence to be included in the line, but Frodo still communicates well enough that he realizes that the lasting effect of the Ring and the wounds (of multiple types) that he received in the process mean that he had to lose the Shire in order for others to keep it. And after handing over his book to Sam and a few tearful goodbyes, Frodo gets on the boat and gives his first unadulterated smile since the destruction of the Ring. He feels the lingering grasp of the Ring finally lose its hold on him as he finds peace in his fate. He finds his deliverance years after the pain that has imprisoned him when he tried to deliver Middle-earth and the Shire most of all.
Frodo’s final words in voice-over narration are a combination of two separate lines in the book. More often in the book than in the movie, Sam has at times been torn between his loyalty to Frodo and other desires or obligations (such as his wish to be rid of Gollum, the need to carry on the Quest after Frodo’s perceived death, and his desire to stay home). But Sam must continue on undivided, fully present, finding his peace in the place where he has made a future for himself. This is true to the book, and it is exactly what he does after Frodo’s departure. And then the movie ends with the perfect line at the end of a long adventure, “Well, I’m back.”
And so ends my favorite movie trilogy of all time and the wonderful “Into the West” plays through the credits. I have my share of criticisms for certain adaptation decisions, but I am far more impressed with the mix of literal faithfulness, creative fidelity, attention to proper pacing and tone for adaptation to a new medium, excellent scoring, the terrific ensemble, and the overall dedication to preserving the essence, heart, and spirit of the book, even when deviating in the details. I am thankful that Jackson and his collaborators took on the enormous risk in making these movies and I am thankful that they were so smart in doing so that it paid off in an unforgettable way. I am thankful that they all had so much joy in working on this massive project through all the toil they had to put into it, and it shows in all of the emotional parting speeches that they give in the special features. Most of all, I am thankful that they introduced me to J. R. R. Tolkien, and my life has never been the same since.