Precious Questions: Tolkien Things Seriously

       With reports of the financial earnings of The Return Of The King coming in, and Tolkien-mania seeming to be slightly more fervent than Christian or Islamic fundamentalism, I find myself reflecting a fair bit on the films (though I've yet to see the third) and the books, and wondering why the trilogy is indeed so popular. Don't get me wrong: I'm not a pooh-pooher of the trilogies, but nor am I rabid fanatic foaming at the mouth for all things Tolkien. There are some things that spring to mind immediately-- the vastness of the scope, the likeability of key characters, the general themes of honour, bravery, taking a stand, and so forth; but it also bears stating that despite his gifts for adapting bits and pieces from medieval and ancient traditions, Tolkien is by no means a great writer, and much of Tolkien's prose is as stilted and awkward (and even dull) as any adolescent's. One has to credit Peter Jackson in many ways, but especially for making sure that just about every person in the Western world now has images in their heads of the primary characters of the trilogy; before, only the most ardent Tolkienites had an image of Frodo, or Sam, or Gandalf, or Gollum. Jackson's imagery is more or less indelible, and in that degree, Jackson as a director is reminiscent of David Lean, whose constructions of T.E. Lawrence or Colonel Nicholson or Lara Zhivago are forever fixed into the brains of those who saw the respective films. So, a tip of the hat to Jackson in that regard, even if his fascination is largely with CGI effects seems a little over the top.

       But it's also worthwhile to inventory some of the logical fissures of the trilogies, some of which are of Tolkien's making but which impose themselves upon Jackson, or which Jackson creates himself. (I'll not really bother to distinguish between them here, merely for the sake of saving myself the verbiage.) Why, one has to wonder, is the original fellowship set out by horse and by foot, when it's demonstrated early on that Gandalf can summon flying creatures which would surely have shortened the travels and travails of our intrepid heroes? Natch, don't think about that; this is just a device so we can in fact have a long series of character and plot engagements. Why don't the defending forces at Helm's Deep set fire to their arrows before volleying them against the attackers? Nah, just plain arrows. That way it's only one dead body and not a mass of confusion in the ranks of the Uruk-hai. Why doesn't Theoden defend the aqueduct that is so obviously the weak link of the Helm's Deep fortification? Nah, we'll just forget about that so we can have some straight up blow-things-up action. Why is it that no one in middle earth has learned the military art of outflanking and dispersing one's forces? Nay, let us not complicate things with sensibility. Why is it that, as the trilogies progress, the ring-wraiths seem less and less dogged in their pursuit of the ring? Nah, we need *new* villains to come along, new wonders to scare the bejeezus out the Hobbitses. Why does Sam think Boromir was killed because he tried to take the ring from Frodo, when, in fact, he was killed fending off orcs in search of the hobbits? And, more interestingly, how does Sam even know Boromir dead when he and Frodo had separated himself from the rest of the fellowship before Boromir fell? Sorry, Samwise, in the words of Faith from Buffy, "what are you, the narrator?"

       The questions proliferate like bunnies (not ordinary bunnies, but killer bunnies!).

Why, if Sauron knows that there is a group of people out to destroy the ring and are moving towards Mordor, why does our Big Bad not bother to post prodigious protection at the entrance of Mount Doom?

Why does Saruman, in poker-terms, go "all-in" with the invasion of Rohan so that Isengard is left relatively unprotected against the charge of the Ents?

Why doesn't Frodo keep the ring in some sort of casing (lead or some other metal) that might limit the ring's effects on him?

If Gandalf can talk to moths and other creatures great and small (remember how he escaped from Isengard), why the hell doesn't he post some bird or insect to follow Sam and Frodo so the rest can keep some sort of tabs on the lonely travellers?

Why is it that some characters can seem to move about the terrain of middle earth as if it were a neighbourhood block and others seem to move as if they were crawling from one end of the Sahara to another?

Why couldn't the elf Legolas translate the Elvish riddle at the caves of Moria gate, let alone figure out the oh-so-obvious answer to it?

Why is it that, in true Roddenberryesque fashion, the major characters all emerge with their lives, while the minor characters bear the brunt of all the violence in middle earth?

Why is it that Saruman could detect Gandalf's thoughts prior to the entry to Moria, but cannot detect that the old grey wizard ain't what he used to be when he's elevated to "White"?

Why don't Sauron or Saruman believe in assassins, especially to take down the hobbits or Gandalf or Aragorn?

How did Aragorn know to meet the hobbits at the tavern, unless Gandalf sent him prior to meeting with Saruman, in which case, did Gandalf suspect there might be something up with Saruman, which neither the book nor the film suggests? So how did he know to be there?

Why, at Helm's Deep, don't any of the keep's defenders push back the ladders that are raised against the wall, or why don't they take their swords and axes to the ropes and ladders?

And why, oh why does Elrond, who was there when Sauron was initially defeated and when Isildur refused to destroy the ring when he had the chance, do absolutely eff-ewe-see-cay-all this time around? Does he feel no responsibility, no need to take action himself? Stand and deliver, you elvish bugger you.

My head hurts even mentally fumbling through the morass.

       On the question of the 'nature' of getting around middle earth, check out this map and think for yourself how carelessly Tolkien the issue, arbitraily moving characters from here to there like knights jumping about a chessboard. If you're a real geek, check out the other maps available at the source site.

       The questions, and the gaps in logic, could go on ad nauseum. Sure, I'm fully aware that we're not meant to ask these sorts of questions, and we're supposed to allow ourselves to surrender to the grand scope of the tale. And, for the most part, I do. But such questions linger, like persistent itches. I am also left wondering why such questions go unanswered, and they suggest a kind sloppiness in the creationary process. I realize that Tolkien and Jackson are both going after an epic sweep, which they achieve, but it should go to emphasize the faultiness of their projects, as admirable as they may be in certain regards. I guess that's why the films and the books appeal more to adolescent impusles rather than mature ones (keeping in mind, of course, that as old as any of us get, we likely still retain some adolescent impulses). These questions also suggest reasons why the Rings trilogy is not quite in the same league as The Odyssey, The Iliad, or Paradise Lost, beyond even the possible discrepancies of opinion on prose stylings.

       By the way, there's a very good review of Return of the King in The New Yorker. Very witty. And is it just me, or does Peter Jackson seem to have some sort of cinematic fascination with Orlando Bloom? He seems to film Legolas with the same sort of idealizing awe that Hitchcock used to film Grace Kelly. But, then again, Legolas does look rather a bit like the late Princess Grace, except he may be prettier. ;-)

       Ponder these questions, my questions, my pressshusss questions. This Tolkiens's tricksy. Master betrays us with his plotses. The Jackson knowses this, and he makeses moneys from ussss, from the plotses, the poresome plotses. Oh, questions... my precious questions... We must, we mustes have them! [Doctor Smeagol/Gollum is then thrown head-first into the fiery lava of Mount Doom]