 The Father of the Bride (1991) remake opens in close up on a glass of champagne, playing a vibrant wedding score while the credits role. Steve Martin is George Banks, sitting in a post party bomb crater, with streamers, balloons, food and drinks covering the place. He addresses the camera and recounts the story of how his daughter got engaged a year or so after college, and the expensive wedding he had to put on. Watching the intro to this day I get sucked in, knowing I’m going to see a fantasy world where the hardest problems the characters face would provide the greatest day to so many others, with Steve Martin pulling off the paranoid, cheap, mildly narcissistic father with a heart of gold without a hiccup, knocking each scene out of the park. I didn’t know that Father of the Bride was a remake until after college while going through director filmographies on Netflix. It was a good film, with Spencer Tracy as Stanley Banks, Joan Bennett as the mother Ellie Banks, and most interesting, Elizabeth Taylor as the newly engaged Kay (in that this isn’t necessarily the role you associate with Taylor). It’s a good film, with Spencer Tracy stealing the show, providing a strikingly similar tone as the Steve Martin’s remake. While it’s no surprise that the original black and white and far more tame original was overtaken by a Steve Martin and Diane Keaton remake, it is interesting that hardly anyone seems to even know the film is a remake, posing at least some precedent in defense of the endless remakes. Some are, in fact, better than the original. What’s more surprising is discovering that Father of the Bride Part 2 (1994) is also a remake, of the sequel to the original Father of the Bride called Father’s Little Dividend. Father of the Bride Part 2 is a solid sequel. Not as good as the first, but an enjoyable watch. Father’s Little Dividend is a pretty good movie, though unfortunately I received one of those Westinghouse discs that looks like the DVD was made by someone filming a YouTube video with a VHS camera; it was one of the shittiest discs I’ve ever watched. The film starts out similar to the Father of the Bride remake, with Stanley Banks in his chair, talking directly to camera about how within what seems like only months of the wedding, his daughter had gotten pregnant, thus entering into a flashback up to the moment where the previous film had just ended. The same cast is back, with Kay’s husband Buckley Dunstan (Don Taylor), and his parents Doris (Billie Burke) and Herbert (Moroni Olsen). The story follows both sets of parents and their attempt to dominate the conversation, from offering names to furnishing the bedroom to where he’d go to school, with Stanley leading a few heated debates, with Kay eventually exploding, turning to dad for help. Later, we get a scene actually seen in the first Father of the Bride, when Buckley and Kay get into a fight, and Buckley takes off in the middle of the night. Funny enough, in this film it’s about infidelity, and in the remake it’s about a blender, with her fiance Bryan MacKenzie recognizing why it’d be offensive given the modern discussion of gender stereotypes (or however he says it). Eventually the baby is due to arrive, and while there’s a great set up in having Stanley Banks having taken a sleeping pill after not sleeping in expectation of the baby arriving over the last few weeks, instead they just have him sleep through the night, waking up to the delivered baby, later losing the kid when deciding to play soccer with some boys. It’s a strange last twenty minutes, and at a hair under 80 minutes, the film never feels like a fully actualized piece. Allegedly the film was being shot before the first Father of the Bride was released; so confident studios were that they had a megahit on their hands. And that’s kind of what the problem is. Aside from the thread of a daughter and father there’s no feel of a carefully or meticulously crafted movie (or at least an attempt) as the first one offered. It was a rushed job, feeling as though they were trying to think of as many scenarios as possible to include between parents and children and in-laws, and while some of the scenes work well, most of them feel under delivered. It’s a good film that’s worth checking out for any Father of the Bride or Spencer Tracy fans. BELOW: Another example of a studio failing to renew the copyright so check out the film below Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page
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 Not a single male in the film, including the animals and all but one piece of art work Director: George Cukor Writer: Anita Loos and Jane Murfin; based on The Women (1936) by Clare Boothe Luce Cinematography: Joseph Ruttenberg and Oliver T. Marsh Producer: Hunt Stromberg by Jon Cvack The Women was described as one of the first forays into Sex and the City territory, following a cast comprised entirely of women, with not a single male featured in the entire production, including the animals, as even any background artwork featuring animals included only female illustrations (all, that is, except for a single cartoon; though how someone discovered this one exception is beyond me). The story follows five high society Manhattan women, focused primarily on Mary Haines (Norma Shearer) who’s near perfect life is disrupted when she discovers that her husband is cheating on her with a perfume saleswoman Crystal Allen (Joan Crawford). The movie opens up at a chaotic massage parlor, moving from white woman to white woman, which gets confusing in black and white, as with everyone dressed in robes I quickly lost track of who is who, other than to realize that the spa is a gossip colony, spreading information and hearsay with lightning speed, where Mary’s cousin Sylvia Fowler (Rosalind Russell) eventually discovering the affair while receiving a manicure. Mary then hits up the spa to corroborate the story, and in a heartbreaking scene, finds the same manicurist who unleashed the gossip to be the veyr person she’s talking to. She commiserates with her others friends, including: Paulette Goddard as Miriam Aarons, Phyllis Povah as Edith Potter, and Joan Fontaine as Peggy Day. The situation worsens when after a bizarre though beautiful color sequence during a fashion show (again the rest of the movie black and white), Crystal and Mary to bump into each other, with Crystal vowing to maintain their relationship as it’s not worth Mary abandoning her perfect life. The situation’s worsened when she goes to her mother (Lucile Watson) who essentially offers the same advice, and in a cynical rant, declares that on account of men being weak while coveting power and money, infidelity is a normal occurrence which Mary needs to accept, which Mary attempts to do until the her confrontation with Crystal leads the story to the society column. Mary decides to divorce her husband, heading to Reno where it was legal at the time for a woman to carry out the separation without permission from her husband. There she meets three new friends: the tosspot and ranch owner Lucy (Marjorie Main), Countess de Lave (Mary Boland), and tough girl Miriam Aarons (Paulette Goddard), with Peggy showing up later pregnant, dealing with her own complicated love triangle. With her life descending out of control, with nothing to do beyond drinking and going to dinner with the girls, Mary’s husband calls, saying he’s granting the divorce and marrying Crystal. Years later, the film opens on Crystal in a bathtub, talking to Buck, who’s now married to the Countess de Lave, which Mary’s daughter Little Mary hears about, then telling her mother. Mary convinces the Countess to have Buck admit what was going on to Stephen, relegating Crystal back to the perfume counter, and Mary to go fight to get back Stephen. With my sister going back home and my mom falling back asleep, it was just my girlfriend and I who watched the film. And while she failed to see the connection to Sex and the City for the first half, it was finishing the second where she saw the connection; in that, like Sex and the City, for as much as it was meant to empower women and offer a female-centric narrative, it ultimately concluded with the woman (Carrie, I believe) going back to a man named Big who had once abandoned her at the wedding altar (I’ve never seen more than a few episodes). The Women offers a similar conclusion, where rather than finding joy in the poetic justice of Stephen being cheated on by the woman who he was willing to cheat with, Mary vows to get him back. George Cukor was one of the few successful gay directors working at the time (per the era, everyone knew this fact, but he was never open about it). Looking at his filmography you’d see an abundance of female oriented films - My Fair Lady (1964), A Star is Born (1954), Little Women (1933) that all have strong women characters. The ending is a disappointment, but the fact that one of the top directors made a film starring only females, featuring over 130 cast members, you can’t fault the guy for trying to offer a more inclusive Hollywood. I’d bet we never see a studio film of this type ever again, down to the artwork featuring only female animals. It makes you realize that it’s never Hollywood as a whole that's bigoted or sexists, but rather those who fight to maintain the status quo and exploit their positions of power for the wrong reasons. There were some good men out there, even in 1939. Watching this you realize how much further there is to go, as if I saw this when it came out, I figured we’d be far ahead of where we currently are. BELOW: Meeting the other woman Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Michael Shannon's best role Director: Guillermo del Toro Writer: Dan Laustsen Cinematographer: Guillermo del Toro and Vanessa Taylor Producer: Guillermo del Toro and J. Miles Dale by Jon Cvack After I struggling year after year over what to get my parents and sister for Christmas, I started taking them out to a meal and a movie where we could share an experience rather than buying them a generic gift card. Last year I took them to The Big Short (2015), which I was seeing for the third time, and figured they might enjoy, taking a complex idea and explaining it with great characters and an accessible story. Unfortunately, being avid Fox News viewers and my dad being a banker, it wasn’t their favorite screening. Last year, my dad had initially mentioned Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015) and so I figured pitching Star Wars: The Force Awakens would be moderate enough to please all sides. It didn’t, with my sister uninterested and my mom saying she watched a film critic mention how The Shape of Water was his favorite film of the year (which I was surprised to hear, for reason below). The Shape of Water is one of my top three films of the year, completely exceeding my expectations. It’s a Jean-Pierre Jeunet film meets a 1950s Creature Film, taking and progressing Jeunet’s defined style and implementing it within the worlds Guillermo is so great at creating, providing just enough sex and gore to satisfy our wonder at how to update a now classical period. The film opens up at an old single screen theater in 1962 Baltimore, where a muted woman Elisa Esposito (Sally Hawkins) wakes up everyday with the same routine of making eggs followed by masturbating in the bathtub (which even at 31 years old somehow became one of the more embarrassing movie watching experiences I’ve ever shared with my family [American Beauty still holds first place]). Ellen works at a secret underground government laboratory with one of her best friends, Zelda (Octavia Spencer). A new creature has been captured from South America, held in a steel water casket, where the facility’s researchers will begin to examine it. It was brought in by Colonel Richard Strickland (Michael Shannon; providing possibly his finest role), who eats green candies and is one of the most despicable characters I’ve seen on screen in years. Elisa is enraptured by the creature, even after Strickland is brutally attacked, losing two of his fingers, which Ellen is forced to pick up in the lab, then offering some hard boiled eggs to the creature who enjoys the treat. Soon she starts abandoning Zelda at lunch in order to spend more time with the creature, quickly developing an emotional attraction that, while very weird, is somehow believable due to Sally Hawkins prowess. However, when lab scientist and soviet spy Robert Huffstetler (Michael Stuhlbarg) finds Ellen hiding in the lab during an impromptu visit from the General in charge of the operation and the General orders them to destroy the creature, Huffstetler decides to help Elisa kidnap the creature from the lab. She recruits her gay neighbor and ailing illustrator Giles (Richard Jenkins), who also struggles with loneliness, attempting to finish his latest project in the hopes he can finally get his career back on track. The performance is one of Jenkins’ best, which while embodying the melancholy found in most of his roles, somehow adds an extraordinary amount of depth, substance, and development without feeling routine. Zelda joins the mini-crew as well and so the film transforms from a dreamy creature feature love story and into a heist film. What makes the film work so well is its ability to gradually exceed your expectations, compounding and growing exponentially to where, by the end, I honestly had no idea where it was going. And while such a strategy has failed time and again with fantasy and sci-fi movies - which often abandon any attempt at redesigning story by punching up the effects to the maximum degree - Guillermo instead takes all of the tropes that worked through the history of cinema and adds a modern touch, going places that even Jean-Pierre Jeunet wasn’t willing to; in this case, violence and gore, which again, while being easy to do wrong and easily offend, operates just as beautifully as the world it exists in. Elisa goes on to sleep with the creature, and while I was dreading the inevitable situation (again, was with my parents) and though it wasn’t perfect, Guillermo somehow pulled it off. There have been stories the explore similar ideas - Beauty and the Beast, Hunchback of Notre Dame, etc. - but so often they have focused on romance between the two characters rather than the raw desire. When Elisa touches the creature, and given her morning masturbation routine, we see her feelings are much more rooted in lust than love; and that beyond companionship is the fundamental urge to have that desire satiated In a year where films like Get Out (2017) and Lady Bird (2017) seem to be revered for the wrong reasons (I still think Get Out’s position as a top film of the year embodies the exact concern the film is criticizing; that is, replace the film’s Obama third term joke with a bunch of white film critics declaring Get Out is the best film in years; again, imagine all of them declaring they can’t possibly be racist because of this fact). If we want to explore gender, sex, inclusion, and equality than The Shape of Water is as fine as they come. Given that it’s main characters all range from gay to colored to queer, it’s demonstrably the most egalitarian film of the year. Aside from soaring beyond narrative expectations is flipping our own expectations about sex and love on their head; Jenkins greatest accomplishment is making us love him as a friend, wishing we had some one like him in our lives, in which his sexuality disappears and we see him for the great person he is. The same goes for Zelda, and of course, due to Guillermos’ and Hawkins’ great talent, we are able to see one of the most queer relationships on screen and in the most intimate terms. The greatest stories build empathy and hold up the looking glass to our own world. This film shines in that regard; using a fantastical story as a way to show that there’re a broad range of people in the world, and how many of them are just like you and me, with the same desire to be loved and touched. And with how hard it is to find such things, the choice a person makes about who provides such things is really none of our business. We should simply be happy that they’re happy, and spend more time worrying about those who actually hurt people. BELOW: In saying all this, the film is strikingly similar to Splash (1984) Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  The most brutal Scrooge ever played Director: Ronald Neame Writer: Leslie Bricusse; A Christmas Carol (1843) by Charles Dickens Producer: Robert H. Solo Cinematographer: Oswald Morris by Jon Cvack It was after reading "A Christmas Carol" and spending the last few years looking up the various renditions on Netflix that I was finally able to come across this version, what is the last of the live action versions, later discovering that its director Ronald Neame was the guy who made The Poseidon Adventure along with three films in the Criterion Collection - Hopscotch (1980), Tunes of Glory (1960), and The Horse’s Mouth (1958). Funny enough, upon finishing this film and looking up the list of greatest adaptations, I came upon Collider’s ranking of the top twenty from best to the worst. Yet while they position this version last, there are actually about fifty adaptations of the story when including television adaptations. With the exception of maybe the Bible, A Christmas Carol is looks to be the most adapted piece of literature ever created. My dad is a Conservative with some liberal tendencies when you really get into the details (not that he’d necessarily admit it). I grew up with the movies he’d show me, everything from Executive Decision (1996) to Star Wars (1977) to The Sound of Music (1965). He wasn’t necessarily a film buff, so much as someone who enjoyed hitting up the video store on the way back home and choosing something interesting, or buying some of his favorite movies from the past. Nowadays, he’s more into Hallmark movies, as it seems like conservative talking heads have been successful in demonizing Hollywood, to the point where they view much of its work as liberal hogwash. Nevertheless, two films he always put on during Christmas were It’s a Wonderful Life (1946) and the 1956 Christmas Carol, or leaving one of the various adaptations on while scanning the television. The more I studied film and developed my own politics, the more I comprehended what both of these films were exploring - about the dangers of greed and disregard for others. I recall The Daily Show showing a clip of how Fox News would roll ads for It’s a Wonderful Life if it came today, championing Henry F. Potter as the hero over the socialist George Bailey. In an age where the right wants to say the left hates free enterprise, despises the rich, and wants to create class warfare, it’s hard to see how a story like It’s a Wonderful Life could honor that philosophy, as it so heavily argues against greed and excess. A Christmas Carol is an even more extreme version, leaving you to wonder how a film so identifiably liberal would remain so popular across the political spectrum. The first element is the combination of melodrama, horror, and time travel; three concepts that provide less inspired ways to provide a good reader/viewer experience (when done well). The second element is the environment, placing these devices against an overcast city backdrop, with snow packed streets providing a specific chill within each film; where I often find myself putting on a blanket and bundling up with the lights off. The greatest versions - ‘38, ‘56, ‘88, ‘99 - all embody these ideas, then moving onto the third best element, using sound, set design, light, and - what I imagine is the most fun to develop - effects to create the atmosphere; best example being use of Death in Scrooged (1988) and the ways Bill Murray fails to differentiate between what’s an actual ghost versus something his production created. Of course, it then comes down to the final element which is the performance, providing what seems almost like a right of passage for the greatest actors. In this case, the 1970 Scrooge includes Albert Finney, who plays one of the coldest and most frightening versions of the character, seemingly unable to open his crooked mouth enough to speak, forcing his words to get lost between his grunts and yells. This version includes a brilliant prop, which is a steal thimble that takes a specific number of coins, allowing the count to go faster, where Scrooge hunches over and assembles his profits into neat piles. Scrooge’s assistant Bob Cratchit (David Collings) sits at his usual bar high desk, scratching in figures, waiting for the clock to strike six before requesting Christmas off with pay. Scrooge acquiesces, unhappy about the arrangement and then heads home to which the first actual musical number then kicks in (there’s an earlier song with some poor caroling boys, but the song was justified). Albert Finney begins singing what could easily be a meme, belching, “I hate people, I hate people...” on repeat as he walks down the London streets while the boys goad him on. Although the scene is a bit weird - especially given how dark the film is up to this point - it does provides an additional and refreshing layer of Scrooge. We see all the people that owe him money and what they do, how they vary from deadbeats who try and avoid paying him back to those who’re always on time to those begging for an extension. He rejects them all, demanding the payment no matter the excuse. He returns home to what’s typically my favorite scene in most versions - seeing both where he lives; often an extraordinarily lonely and decrepit mansion. He arrives to the front door, seeing Marlowe’s spirit in the door knocker, making his way up the cold, drafty stairs, with a bowl of soup, in his pajamas, with walls and halls so high, dark, or far; as though it’s swallowing Scrooge, with nothing but the fire offering any bit of hope. It creates the perfect setting for his old associate Jacob Marley (Alec Guinness; who I knew was in the movie but didn’t even recognize) to appear, covered in chains and doomed to hell for eternity for the terrible life and immoral life he lived. Unfortunately, the chains in this case are so obviously plastic that the effect doesn’t even kind of work, and perhaps being the reason why I didn’t notice Alec Guinness as I honestly couldn’t look away from how bad the prop was. We all know where it goes from there, moving from the past to present to future. The past is a weird scene, as on the one hand it offers a fairly cool song and dance sequence while completely failing to convey Scrooge’s relationship to Isabel (Suzanne Neve). From there, it plays pretty much as generic as it gets, until Scrooge ends up in hell, being covered in hundreds of feet of chain as punishment, which for some reason didn’t look as terrible as Jacob’s chains from earlier. It’s pretty much what you expect, with the added bonus of seeing Albert Finney’s grating Scrooge switch into his redemptive self; though Finney’s role was so dark I was left wondering - for the first time ever watching an adaptation - whether Scrooge had a chance of falling back into darkness and greed, as Finney’s character seemed maybe to have only a few years before falling off the wagon. It’s a solid film and worth checking out. Not necessarily the best, and while I’d like to say far higher on the list of the top twenty, it’s reading that list and into this film that I realize how few of the adaptations I’ve seen. In fact, a 25 minute animated version won the Best Short Oscar in 1951 (which Vox says is the best version ever made; I’m waiting until next year). I can think of about six other versions I’d put on first, but if you like the series then Scrooge is worth checking out. BELOW: One of the greatest battles ever to graze the screen Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Shot nearly 20 years ago and still far far better than the Battle of Winterfell Director: Peter Jackson Writer: Fran Walsh, Philippa Boyens, and Peter Jackson; based on The Fellowship of the Ring by J. R. R. Tolkien Cinematography: Andrew Lesnie Producer: Barrie M. Osborne, Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, Tim Sanders by Jon Cvack Continued from The Fellowship of the Ring... Hours before writing this I finished "The Return of the King" (1955) and am just as pissed that Peter Jackson left out the "The Scorching of the Shire" chapter as when I first finished the trilogy. It’s a book that’s sad to finish, as the world is so vivid and real that it hurts to realize there’s no more to discover. I’ve read "The Silmarillion" (1977) and I returned to "The Hobbit" (1937), and I know his son took some of his unfinished tales, but Tolkien himself had published nothing close to the quality of Lord of the Rings. It was his life’s work where you can feel how much time and craft he invested in creating the world. It reads like a great work of history, to which other works of history could find influence. The Two Towers takes place after The Fellowship disbands, with Frodo and Sam heading off on their own toward Mount Doom, separated from Merry and Pippin - who under orders from Saruman to grab and not harm any Hobbits - are taken by the orcs, leaving Legolas, Gimli, and Aragorn to track them down, leading them to meet the Riders of Rohan led by Éomer (Karl Urban ), nephew of King Théoden (Bernard Hill), who mention the orcs they destroyed the night before. The trio heads over, and a needlessly silly scene takes place as they find nothing but burned orcs, thinking Merry and Pippin were thrown in with them by the riders, Aragorn screams and then sees a random divot in the ground and deduces that a Merry and Pippin must have fallen and then somehow escaped, leading them into the woods where they discover Gandalf the Gray has returned as Gandalf the White, and we get the second needlessly absurd idea of the film (and also the last). First, I don’t understand why they needed to look at a ditch in the ground and assume it was Merry or Pippin, when they could have been attracted into the woods by any others mean; such as seeing a bright light from Gandalf or something. Secondly, I still don’t fully understand Gandalf’s story, as it seems to enter into a strange Heaven/Hell like universe that’s never again addressed or explained, but somehow leads to Gandalf returning hundreds of years later, expressing how he was forced to live in the world forever after killing the Balrog monster. It’s better than cutting to him just catching a ledge of the cliff and hoisting himself up after falling into the fire pit, but it just never felt right. It was a bit too convenient to the story, but given how little it matters, it’s enough to be ignored (and given Game of Thrones endless reliance on magic every time it's in a plot pickle, this now seems insignificant by comparison). Merry and Pippin go on to meet one of the best characters of the series, Treebeard (actually voiced by John Rhys-Davey who plays Gimli). Given how long Ents have been around, they’ve developed a terrible habit of taking hours to express the simplest thought, such as greeting a fellow group of Ents, who agreed to meet and discuss attacking Saruman (Christopher Lee); reluctant until they discover Saruman had burned many of their friends (that is, the forest) to increase production for his war machine, so beginning one of the coolest battle sequences of any action-adventure film. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli get into the meat of the story, ending up at Rohan’s capital Edoras, where they discover King Théoden gaunt and seemingly on the brink of death. His mind has been corrupted by the amazing character of Wormtongue (Brad Dourif); Saruman’s minion deliberately sent to Edoras to corrupt the king. Wormtongue embodies today’s world of fake news, alternative facts, and misinformation, demonstrating how it easy it is to corrupt another by spreading fear and paranoia. It would have been so easy to have Théoden retain his regular image of a healthy and strong leader, but to have Wormtongue’s words be toxic enough to decay Théoden’s body is kiss your fingers perfect; such a simple idea and working magnificently. Gandalf goes on to save Théoden, and for a reason I can’t understand, then let’s Wormtongue go free, knowing how dangerous and powerful his sociopathy and loyalty to Saruman is. While I appreciate what it leads to, it does seem like a plot serving move, hiding behind a generic “Too much blood has been shed” defense; especially given how much blood each of them would go onto shed, not to mention the number of who Hobbits who will die (in the books) because of this decision. With Saruman’s gigantic army approaching, fueled by his slaughtering of the Fangorn Forest the thousands of Uruk-Hai are no match for Edoras. He orders his people and army to Helm’s Deep, located in the deep pocket of a mountain, meaning they can’t get flanked by the enemy, though they also have no chance of retreat. While the book only spends about twenty pages on this battle, Jackson spreads the scene out, creating one of the best medieval battle sequences since Braveheart ('95; and still better than the Game of Thrones' "Battle of Winterfell"), as again with excellent sound design, we watch as men of all ages are coated in arms, many who have never fought, all while the torches and deafening march approaches their position. While I really hope that they one day remove Legolas skateboarding down the hillside on an Orc shield, the sequence holds up extraordinarily well. And while it’s easy to judge that Gandalf’s last minute save relied far too much on coincidence, this is where I admire Tolkien’s spirituality, where given all of the detail, it's reasonable that characters would believe in faith over coincidence. While it’s here that the book and the movie most depart, with Shelob being saved for The Return of the King (the movie) and instead follows Frodo and Sam as they discover Gollum and later Boromir’s brother Faramir (David Wenham), who seems similarly tempted by the Ring. We get fantastic flashbacks in the extended editions of Faramir’s father Denethor (John Noble) and his greed for power. While Tolkien teases about man’s weakness, it’s the story of Denethor and Faramir that portray a vivid and honest struggle with what the ring could provide. It offers a reasonable moral dilemma - if facing no other options other than death or enslavement, a leader would likely feel a need to do anything to save their people, in which case Denethor was logical in desiring the ring to save Osgiliath. While I haven’t seen much of Game of the Thrones at the time of this writing (though I’ve now fully caught up), I have read the first book and it seems that both Denethor and Théoden, and even Aragorn all had a significant impact on the series, as what I failed to grasp as a fourteen year old was the extraordinary depth of characters these men were conveying, getting all the better in the final book. Of course we also see Frodo get weighed down by the Ring, both physically and mentally, and for as much of a swindler Gollum was, Frodo attested to his higher faith that they had to spare him for the role he’d go on to play. It’s here that the film fails to capture what is close to a year’s worth of travel since leaving Bag End. Frodo and Sam exchange some pleasantries and compliments, talking about how they’ll be hailed as heroes, until they’re too caught by Faramir who’s been looking for the ring, struggling over whether or not to take it before fully grasping the consequences of doing so. It’s difficult to write about a middle film, as it’s beginning the first which contains all of the history that led to the choice and the last film where you can finally discuss what it all means. It’s simply a fantastic movie, of which I’d probably put within the Top Five Greatest Home Video/Audio Experiences Ever. The Two Towers has a few CGI failures (though nearly as bad as Fellowship); in some scenes Gollum doesn’t at all blend with the frame, or when the Wargs attack in the beginning, the movement is so complex it just becomes muddy, making me again keeping my fingers crossed for a remastering. BELOW: One of the greatest battles ever to graze the screen Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Rear Window as art house film Director: Krzysztof Kieślowski Writer: Krzysztof Kieślowski and Krzysztof Piesiewicz Producer: Ryszard Chutkowski Cinematographer: Witold Adamek By Jon Cvack A Short Film About Love takes place in communist Warsaw, Poland, where the skies appear perpetually overcast and upward mobility seems next to impossible. While “about love” the story is actually about the sixth (or arguably seventh) commandment against adultery. It focuses on Tomek (Olaf Lubaszenko) who lives in a uniform apartment complex with his Godmother (Stefania Iwinska), whose day is comprised of working at the post office, locking himself in his room, making tea, and then looking through his telescope and spying on a beautiful and promiscuous woman in the building across the street named Magda (Grażyna Szapolowska) as she invites her various lovers upstairs. We’re now sure how long the obsession has been going on, only to later learn that it had been awhile; that Tomek was not the first; and while he use to masturbate and have sexual fantasies, those have long passed. He’s now genuinely in love with the woman, or so he believes, refusing to even watch the sexual acts between Magda and her paramours out of respect. He begins organizing schemes to get her physically closer to her, forging mail orders that Magda is forced to pick up at the post office where Tomek works, confronting his painful introversion and minimalist performances, making us understand why people would ignore him and creating a rich and complex character along the way. At one point Magda demands to to talk to the post office manager, who accuses Magda of forging the documents, threatening to call the police. Tomek then admits what he’s been doing, leaving Magda speechless. Tomek later gets a job as a milk person, having to wake up at 5am in order to deliver Magda’s milk in the morning, rarely getting to see her, though appreciating how close he is to her world. When Magda brings her next man over, she positions the bed in clear sight of the window, then tells the man about the viewer, who storms downstairs, screaming for the voyeur to come down, which Tomek does for some reason, then getting punched in the face. Later, when Tomek delivers Magda’s milk, she invites him inside and onto a date, and so begins some of the most heart wrenching cinematic moments I’ve seen in a long time. At the restaurant, Magda discovers that Tomek doesn’t watch the sex, with Lubaszenko’s talent soaring as we struggles to admit his true love for Magda. She invites him back to the apartment and puts on a nightgown with nothing underneath; the same as for most of the other men, approaching Tomek and pulling his hands upon her thighs, explaining what makes a woman wet, taking one of his hands and letting Tomek touch her, who pops with an orgasm, racing home in shame, then trying to kill himself. After Magda visits Tomek, his Godmother opens up, explaining Tomek’s love for her without expressing the slightest bit of judgment. It’s such a beautiful scene, as we wonder how long the Godmother must have known, knowing there was so little else for Tomek to do with his life - injecting the slightest hint of Polish politics into the story. Magda then looks through the telescope and sees herself spilling the milk, wondering what it must have looked like to Tomek. There’s an easy comparison to be made between the spilling of the milk and Tomek’s premature exit, and yet beyond coincidence I don’t think it means much more than being the event that connects the two lives; with Magda searching for the perfect man, either overwhelmed by jerks or unwilling to commit, or maybe a mixture of both; while a young man she’d never get involved with would do anything for her. My main problem with many short stories or films is the “twist” ending they seem to require, as offering anything less seems to feel inherently wasteful to some. There should always be a change of some sort, but subtler is often better, at least on low budgeted films. I’m not sure what would go on to happen to Magda or Tomek, whether she would continue with her old promiscuous ways, or whether he would continue spying on her. It doesn’t seem like they could possibly get together, and so all there is to consider is time, in which case maybe, out of simple curiosity, he might start looking over again, and maybe it could lead to something when he was a bit older. It leads you to wonder how this connects to adultery. Interestingly enough, according to Wikipedia, Jesus extended the commandment saying in Matthew 5:28, “But I say to you, anyone who looks on a woman to lust after her has committed adultery with her already in his heart”, which would fit the exact storyline. While operating differently in Magda and Tomek, their intentions ultimately reside in lust for another. Magda is in her late 30s/early 40s, clearly knowing she can’t just keep sleeping around, while Tomek knows absolutely nothing about her, believing he’s in love when beyond watching her, he knows nothing. The sin ultimately seems to be that for as much as they could compliment each other, they would not work out, forcing them back into the lives that led them to such a heartbreaking situation, having to forever wonder why it couldn’t have been. BELOW: Hard to find much on the Tube, so here's a clip Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  I officially felt older when realizing I'm now just a year younger than Bruce Willis was when he filmed this Director: John McTiernan Writer: Jeb Stuart and Steven E. de Souza; based on Nothing Lasts Forever by Roderick Thorp Producer: Lawrence Gordon and Joel Silver Cinematographer: Jan de Bont by Jon Cvack This is one of the first movies I wrote about for the blog, and having watched it again a couple years later, I’m surprised by how little I had to say about the film at the time. Some new thoughts below. You can read the original entry here. *** I’ve seen this movie so many times, stating it's the 11th time is likely a conservative estimate. It wasn’t until my friend Tim showed us a strange, subtitled commentary that was included on an old special edition DVD that I understood how great of a filmmaker McTiernan is and why Die Hard with a Vengeance (1995) is just as good, or in my opinion, better than the original. One of the most memorable comments involves using a triangular camera movement, in which through a combination of X, Y, and Z axis movements, the camera often reveals three pieces of information within a fluid take. It took me nearly a dozen viewings to comprehend the technique, along with the use of long lenses for some fantastic moments - such as when we follow the SWAT Team in the distance running toward Nakatomi Plaza, tilting down and racking focus, revealing Paul Gleason and Reginald VelJohnson in conversation. McTiernan is masterful at combining this type of information, in which nearly every single shot is created to convey as much information as possible; that is, except for the action sequences, offering nice breaks between the more deliberate arrangements. While watching the film in LA wasn’t the same as the last time I saw it in Chicago, it provided the same raucous and interactive crowd. What most fail to realize is how funny this movie is, and I don’t mean condescendingly funny. I mean it’s hilarious and there’s truly no better way to watch the film for the first time than in a crowded theater with a full bar. All of the characters are so full of depth and personality, each possessing great and unique senses of humor that the crowd allows you the freedom to laugh After working a long week, I wasn’t exactly thrilled to have to take the hour train ride downtown to spend a late night out, and while I was excited to see the movie, having seen it so many times I was nervous that, for as great as it was, the movie was becoming stale; reserved for half to full decade revisits rather than the bi-yearly play. Then the film began and the crowd was clapping and laughing at Argyle and John’s one liners, and while the introduction of Hans is one of the coolest shots of the film (a steadicam races back as a truck reverses in, with the men exiting, scattering, and then revealing Hans; not so much complicated as just a brilliant way to introduce the bad guy, as though McTiernan knew this was destined for cult status). It’s once the paragon of virtue Sgt. Powell (Reginald VelJohnson), the local sleazy news reporter Richard Thornburg (William Atherton), and the vacuous Deputy Chief of Police Dwayne Robinson (Paul Gleason) gets involved with the story that it begins to build some serious momentum, with Thornburg being introduced with another cool shot as the camera follows him through the newsroom as we watch the dorkish anchor get prepped on monitors as Thornburg talks to the staff about getting a truck. The story explores some pretty heavy ideas about bureaucracy and procedure, and the role media was beginning to play in which bleeding reads translated to 24/7 infotainment, causing hungry reporters to do anything to get the story. We then go from the primary focus of John and his wife Holly (Bonnie Bedelia) and their ailing marriage to that of a reporter, FBI, PCO, limo driver, evil mastermind, computer hacker, about a half dozen German terrorists, allowing the time to pass with lightning speed, marking the sign of any great film, action or not. Die Hard never takes itself too seriously, it just takes all of the action extremely seriously. And this is why so few can replicate its greatness. Too many approach action films trying to be badass, often replicating the superficial elements that make for any great action film. I believe that most student and micro budget films that try to live beyond their means and the genre often fails for this exact reason - there’s no humor, terrible action, and no interesting characters. To blend these elements is of the highest importance in an action movie. It’s why Armageddon is amazing, The Rock (1996), Speed (1994), Con Air (1997), and so on. In fact, Live Free or Die Hard (2007; Die Hard IV) and A Good Day to Die Hard (2013; Die Hard V) make this exact mistake - I can’t remember a single character beyond McClane and was often laughing at the films rather than with. Die Hard doesn’t have just one good character. It has eleven. It’s a type of film that makes me wonder what other films are out there that are that much funnier in a public viewing. Even at the end, when I had once recalled Holly and John’s resolve was a cheesy, melodramatic scene, the theater roared with laughter as Karl (Alexander Godunov) returns and in another great long lens shot, Sgt. Powell shoots him dead. The camera racks from the barrel of the gun to Powell, burning paper starts falling out of the sky, the cherries are splashing, and even though countless people died the music plays as Argyle drives them off into the sunrise. I also think this was the first time I fully grasped Hans’ entire strategy, as growing up with the film I failed to comprehend the caliber of actor Hans was at the time (this was Alan Rickman’s first major role) and how much nuance was packed into the character. While I knew they weren’t terrorists, it’s easy to get too caught up in the action to comprehend how cynical this defense is. With equally fine craft, the story introduces the idea that they can only get into the vault by busting the seventh switch which is powered by an alarm external of the building, and therefore there’s nothing they can do to dismantle it. An important question to consider is - in the event of Takagi failing to provide the password - whether Hans’ deliberately ordered his crew to be more violent in order to more quickly attract the attention of the FBI. It seems very possible, as if the only way the seventh lock was getting turned off was for the FBI to shut down the power, why would he waste any time in trying to contain things beyond threatening to kill Takagi? I personally don’t think Hans thought for a second that Takagi would reveal the information; especially given how meticulously the FBI-plot was. The piece I didn’t fully grasp this time around is that while Hans denies being a terrorist to the hostages and John, he professes his terrorist ties to Robinson and the FBI, going so far as to - when stating his demands - refer to his “comrades in arms” from around the world that he wants released from prison, specifically the Asian Dawn in Sri Lanka which Karl has never heard about and Hans admits to having read about in Time Magazine. He uses these groups to get a helicopter onto the roof where he’s planted a bunch of C4 explosives that he’ll use to kill the FBI and hostages, and use the chaos to escape. We later learn that in fact Hans was part of the West German Volksfrei terrorist group, and that in fact, maybe it was all an act of terrorism. Like the ultimate sociopath, we never know when Hans is being sarcastic or serious, as he’s able to shift his persona to whatever best fits the situation. It is such an original and well crafted film, with every single element - from the photography to the makeup - receiving equal care and attention, which so many have tried to replicate and nearly all have failed. This is what an action movie is suppose to be. If you ever get the chance to see this in a movie theater - ditch whatever plans to do it. BELOW: You don't realize how awesome this scene is until you're in a movie theater with hundreds of others Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Just some fascists holding up skinny birds or something Director: Alejandro Jodorowsky Writer: Alejandro Jodorowsky Cinematographer: Rafael Corkidi Producer: Alejandro Jodorowsky and Roberto Viskin by Jon Cvack I had come across Jodorowsky's book “The Spiritual Journey of Alejandro Jodorowsky” while cleaning out my girlfriend’s apartment a few weeks after I moved in. The previous owner had left behind a bunch of a books and having known about El Topo (1970) for nearly a decade, and buying it before I even moved to LA though having never watched it, I figured I’d read the book after I finally watched the movie. El Topo was told in a surrealistic setting spaghetti western setting, and per my usual problems surrealism (see thoughts on The Milky Way (1969)), I was pretty bored. It’s a movie that’s worth checking out, if for the experience alone. But I wasn’t exactly excited for another couples of confusion with The Holy Mountain. “The Spiritual Journey of Alejandro Jodorowsky” reads like if you put all the literature from any type of metaphysical/head/spiritual shop into a blender and someone began just pouring out what they remembered with little to no context. Maybe not since Finnegan’s Wake (1922) did I find my mind drifting so far. This guy goes all over the map, varying from Eastern Philosophy to Meditation to Religion with lightning speed, never feeling as though he's’ making an actual argument so much as just reciting ideas he’s heard. It bounces between Jodorowsky expressing his desire for peace and harmony to violent exchanges with his teachers and collaborators and occasionally into strange and in depth descriptions of sex, specifically an interesting theory on how the four orifices of a woman all serve a specific spiritual purpose, with anal sex being what connects most to the emotions. I’ve had a few friends and have met a few people out in California who match the stereotype of the person who believes this type of stuff. I don’t mind. If it provides meaning to someone and they’re not hurting anyone or forcing it on anybody else then it doesn’t matter to me. I do noticed a strange correlation between those who rely on these abstract philosophies or spirituality - whatever you want to call it - and their often precarious emotions. Most of the people I know who are deep into this stuff snapped at me at one time or another in our relationship (which is not to say I’m innocent, so much as that the calm they preach is abandoned when put to the test). In fairness, there’s the strong possibility that some of these people might have their own mental or spiritual problems and therefore they’re attracted to these ideas as a potential cure, and therefore although they have had emotional snaps, the ideas have actually helped to contain far more than they would otherwise. Whatever the answer is, I don’t know what this book was saying and was thrilled to finally wrap the thing and finish Flannery O’Connor’s Wise Blood (1952). I had started The Holy Mountain right before I began the book and while I was expecting another incoherent and bizarre film I wasn’t expecting that it would make as much sense as it did (though the book must have helped). The film nearly starred John Lennon who, in the book, Jodorowsky says didn’t want to show his anus on screen getting washed and dropped out for that reason alone. I guess he didn’t want to connect to his deepest emotions. We all have our limits. A man is introduced as The Thief (Horacio Salinas) befriends a dwarf man with his arms and legs cut off at the joints. They perform in the streets and I believe there are a bunch of bloody soldiers and kids with guns and skinned animals but I don’t remember what it had to do with anything. The Thief has a beard like Jesus, launching him into a long spiritual journey to The Holy Mountain, in which he attracts his disciples as they force their way through some of the most memorable, frightening, and bizarre images I’ve ever seen on the screen. The money behind the film feels extraordinary, as The Thief moves toward progressively more sophisticated and elaborate set pieces; from inside a factory with hundreds of paper mâché models made of him, to shooting inside a sacred church with a bunch of half naked women which - according to the book - got him into significant trouble with the government; finally ascending a massive obelisk via a fish hook to shitting in a bowl, getting his asshole washed, and then sitting in a giant bell jar as he inhales his own shit being turned into liquid. After the shit inhalation, he’s introduced to seven disciples who each represent a different planet, varying from a factory owner who seduces his female employees into a strange polygamous cult; another person who’s in charge of constructing toy guns used to train children for future military invasions, an actual weapons manufacturer who’s committed to trying to find ways to destroy as much as possible, and four other successful individuals, who then burn the money in a fire and join him in search of The Holy Mountain. Typically I hate this type of stuff, but contrary to most other surrealist pieces I’ve seen, this actually feels manageable to piece together, swaying near on the nose and over to abstraction, yet never getting you frustrated for what it’s trying to say. It’s here that I resent surrealist art most, as to express into words what I think it means sounds so stupid and yet it’s the only way to defend what it is. Given the horror of the Vietnam War, the threat of domestic revolution, chaos, and the impending nuclear war, inserting these ideas into religion seemed interesting enough. As Jodorowsky says throughout the book, referring to numerous kauns - a paradoxical one liner, more or less, which is impossible to answer - it’d make sense that a man who breathes his own shit would be able to lead a bunch of terrible people to a salvation, providing what felt essentially like a straightforward narrative about the rise of a religious cult while exploring the paradox of the lack of logic in faith. For instance, if God created the universe, what created God? Or if the universe is the effect of some cause, what is the first cause? There is no reason for such a loyal following and within this lack of reasoning is a possibility to take things to the utter brinks of brinks of cinematic possibility. If you look at all of the larger moments and what generally takes place, it’s easy to take those larger ideas about money, war, industry, and power and the ways in which Jodorowsky's abstract images reflected them. In saying that, there are so many distinct images in this film that I’ve been remembering them one by one every few minutes while writing this. I’m left wondering what it must have been like seeing this in the theater for the first time and how it’s one of the few styles that will forever exist - people will always want to see a reasonably weird or fucked up movie and the fact that Jodorowsky could get this much money for this film shows the extraordinary power cinema once had in that Golden Age. It’s by far one of the strangest movies I’ve ever seen that I’d be willing to one day watch again. BELOW: Something to do with Vietnam Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  One of the 00s saddest scenes Director: Peter Jackson Writer: Fran Walsh, Philippa Boyens, and Peter Jackson; based on The Fellowship of the Ring by J. R. R. Tolkien Cinematography: Andrew Lesnie Producer: Barrie M. Osborne, Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, Tim Sanders by Jon Cvack Continued from Part 1 and Part 2... When the Fellowship fails to scale the Misty Mountains, they turn to the Mines of Moria, once ruled by Dwarves as they mined for the priceless Mithril. Outside, they face a pretty funny puzzle and killer Octopus, providing the worst scenes of that 25% of the CGI that completely fails as the creature attacks the fellowship, attempting to hide the detail with moonlight and water, and just looking like a giant video game monster. Doesn’t matter because it leads to the film’s greatest scene, as the Fellowship discovers the mines abandoned of Elves but filled with Orcs, Jackson achieves the finest balance of thrill and action, relying on an Orc drum beat to anticipate their approach. Up to this point, we haven’t seen an actual battle scene, not beyond the sword fight between the Ringwraiths. Here Jackson shines with his talents, taking us from the tomb to the various corridors, with the drumbeat ever playing, building up excitement for what’s to come next and how much greater it can get. While I was honestly taken out of the movie with the shitty Octopus, Jackson fully delivers with his VFX in the deep caverns with molten lava burning far below, with precarious massive staircases extending all the way down. When the Balrog comes, while needing a bit of a CGI polish, it caps off the scene with near perfection. I had always enjoyed the scene, but I never grasped how well crafted it was. I’d put this as one of top twenty five greatest scenes of all time, demanding to be watched with stellar sound and image, accomplishing the rare feat of making you hope, no matter how illogical, that things might be different for Gandalf this time around; that he would escape and continue to join the Fellowship and that they’d remain together. I’m not sure what goes on in the mind when this earnest hope for a impossible alternative reality takes place, but when Gandalf dies and the Fellowship mourns, I still get a bit moist in the eyes, no matter how many times I’ve seen it. The film then moves to Lothlórien where the Extended Edition drowns, as we get blue dreamy sequence after blue dreamy sequence, with Elves like Galadriel (Cate Blanchett) speaking in slow motion, feeling as though it’s all shot in close ups causing me to feel claustrophobic. I wish I could insert the theatrical release for this section, as this section really dragged, and while I believe the theatrical cut is a bit confusing with all of the flashbacks and slow motion talk, it at least played fast enough for me not to care. The remaining Fellowship leaves via river. Boromir tries to steal the Ring from Frodo who escapes off on his own, as more Orcs close in on their position, once again highlighting the frailty of men and providing one of the more gruesome murders to watch; especially for a PG-13 movie. It’s the closing scene that always sticks with me, as Frodo attempts to leave by canoe, abandoning the others, and Sam chases him down, nearly drowning. The score kicks in with the song is “The Breaking of the Fellowship” and even as I listen to it as I’m writing this, I get washed with that feeling of hope and anticipation; where not since a film like Back to the Future (1985) have I been so sad that it ended, forcing me to return to reality. While I could have probably done without the melodramatic drowning moment, hearing Sam declare that he’s going to stick with his friend also hits right in the heart. To see the connection between these characters which plays so true and entirely real is something, it’s clear that Tolkien had some thoughts on friendship, and which I could only surmise was based upon the bonds of war. As the movie faded I was immediately taken back, to a time before I was into movies, simply excited for the next film which I’d only know through television commercials and magazines, immersing me into a world unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I’ve spoken of summertime blockbuster trilogies - The Dark Knight Trilogy, Back to the Future, Indiana Jones, and so on. Rare is the winter blockbuster trilogy or series (Star Wars, Harry Potter, etc.). The Fellowship of the Ring is a movie I could have just as easily started up all over again the moment the credits rolled. It’s escapism at its very finest - combining brilliant insights with an accessible and fully realized stories. It’s one of the all time greats that, because it can’t be franchised the same as Star Wars, Marvel, or DC, has lost some of its popularity. I bet soon enough it’ll again takes it position as one of the all time greatest in cinematic history.* *Coincidentally, only weeks after writing this, Amazon announced their ~$1 billion Lord of the Rings series is in the work. BELOW: For all the CGI faults, this some how still holds up well Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Great creepy bar scene Director: Peter Jackson Writer: Fran Walsh, Philippa Boyens, and Peter Jackson; based on The Fellowship of the Ring by J. R. R. Tolkien Cinematography: Andrew Lesnie Producer: Barrie M. Osborne, Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, Tim Sanders by Jon Cvack Continued from Part 1... Counter and better than the books, the film opens up with the ring’s history, taking information that’s scattered across hundreds of pages and making it clear and concise, allowing us to understand exactly why it mattered. Failing to remember that this was made nearly twenty years ago, the first thing I notice was the CGI which just did not work at points. It embodies what I’ve been writing about on this site for years, in that the very nature of CGI is to push the technology to its brinks. I can appreciate what The Fellowship of the Ring accomplished given the year, but it’s a prime example of what a modern remastering could do for the film. We then head to the Shire, meeting the various hobbits and receive another rich history of the area through Bilbo Baggin’s (Ian Holm) narration as he attempts to write his novel. His 111th birthday is in a few days, and per Hobbit tradition (though not mentioned in the movie), he’s responsible for inviting everyone from The Shire - no matter how much he despises them; providing each with a present. Bilbo’s old friend Gandalf (Ian McKellen) has returned to town for the event, bearing fireworks for the kids, first meeting Frodo (Elijah Wood) who provides the latest town gossip. We go on to meet Samwise Gamgee (Sean Astin) and Pippin (Billy Boyd) and Merry (Dominic Monaghan), the latter pair being introduced much better than in the book (as I think it’s delayed by about fifty pages). It’s this opening scene that I most recall from childhood, having seen the film so many times in such a short period that its images are burned onto my brain. The Shire is a conservative place, resentful of change and suspicious non-Hobbits, and yet looking so serene and idyllic that I’ve yet to meet a single person who hasn’t at least once described their desire to live there. While Tolkien did say that the series’ closing chapter "The Scorching of the Shire" was based on the bombing on London, it’s described and captured in such a way that separates it from any particular place (at least that I know). I had forgotten how most of these hobbits are under four feet tall, with the group average hovering somewhere around 3’6”, which while no character looks so small, Jackson expertly framed them to pull off the gag (see below). What makes the series work so well is its use of such simple concepts to capture such terrifying and complex ideas. The Shire is a place of peace against an increasingly dark and dangerous world, which we know is slowly approaching, of which the Hobbits have no idea about or care to know. In the book, Frodo is 33 years old at Bilbo’s 111th birthday, and after receiving the ring, lives with it for seventeen years before Gandalf returns. I’m unsure why Tolkien decided to do this, other than that Tolkien was around 50 years old himself when starting the book, adding an additional layer of meaning, perhaps serving as an allegory to Tolkien’s own march toward death as he soon entered into his golden years. What it does best is provide logic to an otherwise complex timeline. While Jackson gets away with his lightening speed in making Sauron rise to evil and Saruman to follow, Tolkien imagined a world where it’d take nearly twenty years before the evil finally arrived at The Shire. Given that Frodo had the ring the entire time, there’s definitely humor in the irony - in that for all that was causing a great war and possible destruction of Middle Earth, it resided with one of the most ordinary creature’s imaginable. Gandalf explains that The Hobbit’s Gollum (Andy Serkis) had been captured by Sauron’s forces, tortured, eventually revealing the identity of Bilbo Baggins and where he lives. Sauron sends his seven Nazgûl Ringwraiths over to The Shire to find the Ring, providing one of the more fascinating histories within the film; in that, back when the One Ring was basically the executive device of broad hierarchy, in which the Elves, Humans, and Dwarfs all had a set of subservient rings which served their master, the seven humans who accepted their rings succumbed to the power, overtaken by the evil until doomed to serve Sauron for the rest of etertinity. While more men are introduced within the film, Tolkien’s cynicism is unyielding. As occurs throughout the film, it’s man’s lust for power and wealth that leads closest to their destruction. Wikipedia actually quotes one of the most chilling passages from The Silmarillion: Those who used the Nine Rings became mighty in their day, kings, sorcerers, and warriors of old. They obtained glory and great wealth, yet it turned to their undoing. They had, as it seemed, unending life, yet life became unendurable to them. They could walk, if they would, unseen by all eyes in this world beneath the sun, and they could see things in worlds invisible to mortal men; but too often they beheld only the phantoms and delusions of Sauron. And one by one, sooner or later, according to their native strength and to the good or evil of their wills in the beginning, they fell under the thraldom of the ring that they bore and of the domination of the One which was Sauron's. And they became forever invisible save to him that wore the Ruling Ring, and they entered into the realm of shadows. The Nazgûl were they, the Ringwraiths, the Úlairi, the Enemy's most terrible servants; darkness went with them, and they cried with the voices of death. — The Silmarillion, "Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age" Gandalf demands Frodo head off to destroy the ring. Having never left The Shire, Frodo hesitates, offering the ring to Gandalf and providing our first taste of its power, in one of the films most haunting scenes. Immediately the story shifts from a light hearted tales about an bucolic land full of adorable homes and fireworks and into a genuinely terrifying harbinger. Frodo heads up with Sam just as the first Ringwraith approaches, eventually meeting Merry and Pippin, and making their way out of The Shire. In a narrow escape, they make their way to Bree to meet Gandalf who hasn’t been around in over six months. There’s a scene in An American Werewolf in London (1981) where they enter The Slaughtered Lamb and the raucous place comes to a complete stop before a local explains the story about a werewolf. There’s a fantasy I have with this type of scene, where I imagine being with a close buddy on a road trip, getting stranded, and entering the same cryptic and ominous bar; providing the perfect dose of adrenaline that gets you excited with just a few grams of fear. They meet Strider (that is, Aragorn - Viggo Mortensen; Daniel Day Lewis was also offered the part…) who describes himself as a friend to Gandalf and there to escort them to the Elvin world of Rivendell. With the Ringwraiths closing in, the hobbits agree and they head off, eventually meeting the Ringwraiths where Frodo gets stabbed after putting on the ring, infected by the zombie/ghoul-like spirit, on the verge of falling into darkness. He’s rescued by Aragorn’s Elf lover Arwen (Liv Tyler) and they all return to Rivendell, where Frodo is saved and discovers Bilbo there, who still desires the ring (in the most film’s most terrifying moment). The actual Fellowship of the Ring is formed with Aragorn, a man Boromir (Sean Bean), an Elf Legolas (Orlando Bloom), and a Dwarf Gimli (John Rhys-Davies; who up until writing this I don’t think I’ve ever seen without the costume), and the four other hobbits. They agree to dedicate their lives in protecting Frodo as he throws away the ring, and head off.* It’s here that the Extended Edition begins to drag and it’s understandable why so much material had been left on the floor. Between Rivendell and Lothlórien, shot in a cheesy blue haze that just gets awful to look at after long periods of time, we learn of Aragorn’s history and connection to Arwen, though I couldn’t tell you many details as it's close to unbearably dense. *As a note, I read that one of the biggest alleged plot holes is that the Eagles (from The Hobbit) weren’t used to destroy the ring. I’m not sure why the Eagles would be exempt from the Ring’s power, given that they’re demonstrably super intelligent animals. So not sure this holds much weight. Continue onto to Part 3... BELOW: How Jackson made the Hobbits seem small Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page |
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