ISI WEB EDITOR'S NOTE: This is Part II in a three-part series by Bradley J. Birzer, author of ISI Books' J.R.R. Tolkien's Sanctifying Myth: Understanding Middle-Earth.Part I can be read here and Part III can be read here.

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Part II: Jackson vs. Tolkien

     Just before the film version of "The Fellowship of the Ring" appeared in the December of 2001, one of the student members of the Hillsdale College Tolkien Society complained rather sagely, "Oh I hate this, now there will always be two versions of Middle-Earth, Tolkien's and Jackson's.

“'... now there will always be two versions of Middle-Earth, Tolkien's and Jackson's.'”

And I'll always have to explain which one." A Tolkien purist, she still has refused to see any of the three movies. At the time, I shared her concern, if not her zeal. J.R.R. Tolkien's works have been a permanent part of my life since September 23, 1977, when my oldest brother, Kevin, received a first edition of The Silmarillion for his eighteenth birthday. Twenty-three years later, as I was deep into my own research and writing on Tolkien, I was feeling mightily possessive of the great Englishman. I certainly did not believe Jackson could possibly understand him or capture the essence of his mythology at all.

     After all, what would Tolkien think of this man who made such a film as "Heavenly Creatures?"

     Certainly in 1938, as pointed out in part one of this essay, Tolkien feared the translation of fantasy to the visual arts. It would either become silly and trite, or, to avoid this, the artist would focus on the darker aspects of faerie, resulting in the good characters and forces being watered down, or ignored altogether. And yet, Tolkien was not always a purist when it came to translating faerie to the visual arts. In 1957, he admitted to his English publisher that he "should welcome the idea of an animated motion picture, with all the risk of vulgarization; and that quite apart from the glint of money, though on the brink of retirement that is not an unpleasant possibility."¹⁰ Additionally, since Tolkien regarded himself as merely the recorder of the tale, the mythology could and should be used and entered into by other artists. When, for example, Tolkien had originally wanted the mythology of Middle-Earth to be a myth for England, as opposed to a myth of all of Christendom, which it became, he wrote, "I would draw some of the great tales in fullness, and leave many only placed in the scheme, and sketched. The cycles should be linked to a majestic whole, and yet leave scope for other minds and hands, wielding paint and music and drama." Dismissing this wish as youthful exuberance and arrogance, he concluded with a resounding "Absurd."¹¹

     Well, I thought, in December of 2001, maybe Tolkien would accept Jackson's movie. After all, he was just another artist entering into the mythology. Right? Perhaps. Or maybe, as I am wont to do, I was simply justifying my decision to see the movie. Some of my fellow Tolkienites at Hillsdale certainly suspected this of me. Therefore, much to the amusement of some of my closest friends and best students in the Tolkien Society, I walked into the only movie theater in Hillsdale, Michigan, prepared to dislike Jackson's rendition of the masterpiece of the twentieth century. I must admit that from Galadriel's opening narration, "History became legend; legend became myth," I was more than ready to forget my prejudice and enjoy the movie as a precious work of art.

     And, enjoy it I did, all three hours of it. Indeed, there were numerous times I wanted to jump into the screen, so attractive were parts of Jackson's variegated and imagined landscapes. The Shire, especially, seemed to capture exactly what I believe to have been Tolkien's vision. There on screen stood a believable Anglo-Saxon-looking (though strangely, with Celtic music and dancing!) farming village, idyllic in the best romantic tradition. The Hobbits were Hobbits, bumbling, Chestertonian,

“Jackson's Aragorn was a little too "GQ"-ish for me, but I was quite taken with the angelic character of Arwen.”

and imbibing in the good life of family, friendship, a good smoke, and a fine beer. Bilbo was Bilbo, Frodo was Frodo, and Sam, my favorite character in the novels, seemed to be the Sam we first encounter in the pub, arguing with Ted Sandyman in the opening to Tolkien's Fellowship. Sam seems justly foolish and loveable all at once. Kudos to Sean Astin for playing Sam perfectly. Jackson's Aragorn was a little too "GQ"ish for me, but I was quite taken with the angelic character of Arwen. When I had read early movie reports about the changes in Arwen's character, a vital person in the entire Middle-Earth mythology, I feared that Jackson would ruin her, making her some silver screen version of an Amazon warrior princess. Instead, I think Jackson portrayed her well, allowing her to be the instrument of Grace for the Fellowship. After appearing with an angelic glow to Sam, she speaks the only prayer in the entire movie, "What Grace is given me, let it pass to" Frodo. This is a beautiful moment, manifestly within the Judeo-Christian tradition of prayer. There are other great moments in the movie: additions made by Jackson, such as Boromir teaching Pippin and Merry to use a sword, as well as the depicitions of Gwaihir's saving of Gandalf, the destruction of the forests around Isengard, and so forth, that really captured my imagination. The best moment, though, which never fails to move me, even after repeated viewings, is the confrontation of Gandalf and the Balrog at the Bridge at Khazad-dum. "I am a servant of the Secret Fire. You shall not pass," Gandalf declares. Jackson could easily have left this declaration out, as the casual movie-goer would have no clue what the Secret Fire is and was probably left in a rather confused state after Gandalf's declaration. The other actors also play their roles beautifully following the death of Gandalf. It is a moment of supreme despair, the prophet dead. Consequently, the extended version of "The Fellowship of the Ring" is the most successful of the three installments, in my judgement.

     Jackson's "The Two Towers" was much less successful. While a wonderful war movie and an excellent defense of Western civilization, it at times destroyed both the letter and the spirit of Tolkien's vision.

“Jackson destroys the character of Faramir, utterly.”

Most tragic was Jackson's adulteration of Faramir. Tolkien considered him to be the closest character to himself in The Lord of the Rings.¹² The character first appears in The Two Towers as a beacon of hope for Frodo and Sam. The son of Denethor and brother of Boromir, Faramir is of Númenórean descent; Tolkien even titled the chapter in which Faramir appears "A Window on the West," implying that Faramir offers a glimpse of the best of Númenor, of the Western inheritance. Faramir refuses to lie or to deceive in any way, even in his dealings with the enemy. He is honorable to a fault. Highly intelligent and spirited, he kills the enemy reluctantly.¹³ He represents, like Sam, the willing servant, one who serves out of love, first and foremost. Jackson destroys the character of Faramir utterly. In his film, Faramir is nothing but an angry young man, as bad if not worse than his brother Boromir. The extended version adds some psychobabble, trying to explain that Faramir acts as he does to please his demented and demanding father. The extended story and explanation on the DVD fail to accomplish anything; they only add a bit of tedium to the movie. In the DVD commentary, Jackson goes so far as to say that with the character of Faramir, "the book is lacking in dramatic tension." In other words, Tolkien was an ineffective writer! What arrogance. As if Jackson or either of his screenwriters could ever really hold a candle to Tolkien's vision. If the director and writers possess such arrogance about them and their liking and disliking of Tolkien's Middle-Earth, one should not be surprised that the movie fails at a number of points.

     In the commentary on the DVD, one of the screenwriters tries to justify the changes to Faramir's character, stating that Faramir's resistance to the Ring in the novel diminishes the Ring's powers. What Jackson and the scriptwriters ignore, however, is Tolkien's sublime faith that Grace can overcome all sin. St. Paul, in his first letter to the Corinthians, tells us that God allots his Grace according to His will alone. Tolkien's Faramir, for whatever, reason, has been given such Grace. To adulterate that element in Tolkien's story, I fear, changes the entire meaning of the trilogy. Grace can now be perverted and destroyed at our whim. So much for Tolkien. So much for God!

     There were, of course, brilliant parts in Jackson's "The Two Towers." As mentioned above, Jackson offers us a wonderful defense of Western civilization. Equal to Jackson's presentation of the Shire is his presentation of Rohan, a society that looks and feels real. It is also a society that demands protecting. I could easily imagine a Beowulf or, better yet, a Wiglaf, at home there. Eowyn is probably the best-portrayed character in all three films - a tribute to Miranda Otto's acting skill and fidelity to Tolkien's vision. Not only is Otto stunningly beautiful, but one feels her dilemma as both a medieval noblewoman and a shield-maiden.

     Treebeard's attack on Isengard also remains true to Tolkien's vision. The assault on Isengard represents—in the books as well as in Jackson's movie—Tolkien's romantic hatred of industry and his suspicion of technology. And I must admit—though I type this on a laptop and you are reading this on a computer screen—I can sympathize with Tolkien's anti-modern vision, wondering what the world would be like without such mechanization of cultures and men and nature. Here, in both the book and the movie, nature takes its revenge and destroys the machine. Ironically, of course, it took vast machines to render this scene in the movie.

     To a degree, because it's so fresh

“In my estimation, parts of the film were brilliant, parts were merely adequate, and parts were disturbingly different from the book.”

in my mind, I'm still deciding about the third installment, "The Return of the King." Professional movie reviewers, almost without exception, have given it glowing praise. In my estimation, parts of the film were brilliant, parts were merely adequate, and parts were disturbingly different from the book. The most disturbing change in the movie came with the destruction of the Ring. In the book, Gollum bites the ring finger off Frodo, dancing with glee on the precipice once he possesses the ring. In his fit of unholy joy, Gollum falls into the Cracks of Doom, bringing destruction upon himself and the ring. In the movie, Jackson presents Frodo and Gollum as moral equals, fighting feverishly for the ring.

     And, alas, poor Faramir. A kidnapper with at least some agency in "The Two Towers," he is at best a pathetic loser in "The Return of the King," and, at worst, a mere extra taking up space on the screen. Does he marry Eowyn? Does he become Aragorn's personal lieutenant, clearing the remaining orcs out of the dark places of Middle-Earth? The viewer is left with no answers in the theatrical release of "The Return of the King." While I had hoped that Jackson would in some way redeem the character of Faramir in the third film, he has merely adulterated his character further.

     Equally important, there is no majesty in the coronation of Aragorn in Jackson's version. Tolkien had written in his letters, as mentioned in part one of this essay, that the entire story culminates in the re-establishment of an effective "Holy Roman Empire." In Jackson's version, however, Gandalf says a few nice words, and Aragorn is hastily crowned. During the entire ceremony, Arwen bizarrely hides behind a veil, observing but not participating in the coronation. Beyond some kind of sappy surprise, this scene was offensive. And Jackson never shows Aragorn as a healer, thus diminishing the significance of his office,

“I must admit, I like serious books to be taken seriously, and one tossed dwarf is one too many for me.”

at least as medievals would have recognized it. Tolkien has Aragorn acting as a healer in the novels because a true king sacrifices himself for the good of the whole. He is, in the medieval sense, as much a servant as a leader. Frankly, if I had only Jackson's Aragorn and Eowyn from which to choose as rulers, I would much prefer Queen Eowyn over King Aragorn.

     On the positive side, Eowyn was again brilliant, and the Riders of Rohan were, in my view, the true heroes of "The Return of the King." Their cavalry charge at the Battle of Pelennor Fields was simply breathtaking, and I could happily watch it repeatedly. Mercifully, Jackson also removed much of the comic relief that Gimli, Pippin, and Merry supposedly offered in the first two films. I must admit, I like serious books to be taken seriously, and one tossed dwarf is one too many for me.

     Jackson also threw in some nice religious moments in the third film: Denethor talking about his heathen ancestors, Gandalf asking that Aragorn's realm be blessed, and Gandalf explaining what death is like to Pippin ("white shores and green pastures"). The Eagles of Manwe were also wonderful, as were the beacon fires of Gondor; the former represented the intervention of Grace, while the latter dramatically represented the virtue of hope.

Part III can be read here. Part I can be read here. You are also invited to read the foreword by Joseph Pearce and the introduction from J.R.R. Tolkien's Sanctifying Myth: Understanding Middle-Earth by Dr. Birzer.