On the positive side, the film from start to finish is power-packed, verily brimming over with energy. Noteworthy are such new characterizations as Bard, who is well rendered, and his Lake-town fellow travellers - especially his own family and the local officialdom; although Beorn, if satisfactorily depicted - a Gandalf of (and for) the common people, as it were - somehow lacks his sense of gravitas (and irritability). As if he'd have tolerated his own home being gatecrashed/effectively wrested off him (however temporarily). And a great opportunity is thus missed of showcasing his (cf Radagast's) intimate relationship with the (i)bee swarms in (what should be) his huge, lovely garden; though the other animals, i.e. the livestock under his jurisdiction, are, as far as they go, well enough enacted. While Tauriel is portrayed more than adequately, the much underrated Thranduil is superbly cast, displaying all that aforementioned gravitas yet also finely-tuned sensitivity befitting a (Woodland) Elvenking of (equally) querulous temper. His elegance, graceful majesty and self-conscious dignity are effectively juxtaposed alongside and perfectly complement his self-assured sense of superiority, leaving a sense of thinly-disguised condescension (and despotic high-handedness) towards all he deems beneath him in the hierarchical order of things.
Smaug is quite up to the humongous expectations elicited by the glimpse given in An Unexpected Journey, with a couple significant reservations (see earlier blogposts). Bolg comes across every bit as nasty 'a piece of goods' as Azog, but still a foe of considerably less stature, conscious authority and might: Azog wrought smallish, so to speak, but certainly well up to the coming challenge, however discrepant with the original script, of heading the dwarf company off at the pass. Sauron for that matter is showcased well before his time, yet seems unable - despite the immense display of his firepower - to permanently eliminate Gandalf from the scene. Really? Likewise, if on a far more minor scale, note the Master of the Lake-town Esgaroth ramming Bard's chest, yet somehow failing to kill him instantly. C'mon now, at the least he'd have suffered cracked ribs!
Bard's 'pre-loading' of the dwarf-filled barrels with fish is a nice variation upon Tolkien, especially their coming up out of Bard's toilets! However the dwarfs' own fatigue (even partway through their bodily ordeal between Thranduil's palace and Lake-town) is not (remotely) evidenced, yet carries some significance in the book. Nevertheless the cascading river and roaring cataracts as the dwarfs exit the woodland elvenkingdom give appropriate 'oomph' and impetus to the action, helping set the story's fast and furious pace at this early juncture in 'the second leg' of the dwarfs' journey to Erebor. Something helping me to now fully understand the job (ii)requirements for being a good swimmer (for those, unlike myself, accepted onto the set for work as a human in (iii)Lake-town).
Bard's kids (girls and son, evidently Sigrid, Tilda and Bain) are beautifully and effectively cast, reminiscent of the Rohanite kids in PJ Et Al's The Two Towers. The Master of Lake-town is right on the mark, nay 'done to perfection', while his steward puts in an equally fine performance. As has been remarked elsewhere (in radio commentary, the only kind I get since our good 'ole TV went on the blink during an equinoctial wind gust), Esgaroth's Master (read: Mayor - in modern lingo) is an oily, unctuous (read: (iv) 'offensively suave and smug [self-complacent)' character/'gentleman' reeking of pomposity and grandiosity - in which 'performance' he is singularly unmatched by any save his Chief Bodyguard/Spokesman. The two take bureaucratization/'officialeze' (and sleaze) to a new low - probably unequalled since Billy Connolly's not-to-be-missed 'The Man Who Sued God' or Dave Henderson's 'Be Very Afraid'. Their discussion of the establishment of a committee of inquiry and the very possibility of an election and thus 'the dreaded scourge' (horror, horrors!) of democracy is a masterstroke (pun or not). Indeed (v)the two are arguably the deftest stroke in a movie elsewise lacking in gripping characterizations or cameos.
Greatly assisted by being every bit 'as ugly as sin' (as my beloved Grandma might have said), the orc deputy head honcho, Bolg, discharges his role well. But otherwise, apart from the Star Villain/ Attraction of this particular Show - i.e. the Inimitable, Incomparable Smaug the Terrible, the Calamity of Calamities - this second movie's evildoers are neither noteworthy nor especially memorable (unlike the three trolls or the Goblin-King Under The Mountain (let alone Smeagol/Gollum) of Part One. Certainly Azog reappears in all of his sheer malice and evil persona as well as intimidating physicality, but otherwise, all one can really say is that Desolation's (non-dragon) villainry is pretty well 'up to the job'. Yes, they adequately meet job specifications, functioning as they were intended, but aside from that they are largely expendable (as indeed so transpires on an ongoing basis above the River Running's Mirkwood Forest inflow) and so prove largely forgettable.
The scenery itself certainly doesn't let one down - but how could it? - approximating to all one now has come to expect from PJ & Co. But before we give Sir Peter too much credit for that (aside from his team's expert photography, that is), Aotearoa-New Zealand's picture postcard scenery tends to speak for itself, doesn't it, and can hardly fail, if simply left to itself, to unveil its rich and abundant (vi)charms and treasures for all to marvel at. That is, whether one is referring to the craggy hillsides and scattered waterfalls bedecking the various scenescapes, the mountains afar, or the forested hilltops - but not Mirkwood. This was an unexpected bonus, an oasis in a desert of dearth, incidentally a wonderful instance of manufactured landscapes, especially the unnerving and effectively wrought trees twisting every which way but in perfect unison as the company enters and quickly comes unstuck: a writhing mass of warped trunks and hefty branches with a life of their own pulsating and throbbing through them, only too aware of the potentially worrisome company wending and winding its increasingly confused and labyrinthine, extremely roundabout route through their naturally suspicious (anthropomorphic) foliage and undergrowth.
The spiders, for that matter, while much smaller than The Return's Shelob 'mother of all (vii)arachnids' - though evidently related in both nature and motive, and only lacking Shelob's girth and strength in the pursuit of their nefarious designs - did their jobs well and expeditiously enough. But, and its a pregnant but, without the brilliant 'bits 'n bobs' of primarily speech with which JRR invests them, such as Bilbo's teasing them to the point of distraction and beyond with poetic ditties playing upon their names, or his own rendition thereof. Note for a prime example Tolkien's summing up of their (collective) wrath, nay fury, as a consequence: 'They were frightfully angry. Quite apart from the stones [Bilbo had been chucking at or around them] no spider has ever liked being called Attercop, and Tomnoddy of course is insulting to anybody.' In thus effectively expunging from the newfangled Jacksonesque interpretation these characteristic and Tolkienesque touches, such delightful vignettes and insights into the spiders' modus operandi and personalities were completely sidestepped; not to mention the very contexts giving rise to such hilarious banter, i.e. the ingenious (and unintentionally quite entertaining) way in which Bilbo goes about seeking to rescue his helpless friends from the sticky cobwebs within which they are seemingly inextricably enveloped. Well-deserving, as in the book, of much greater attention and elaboration indeed.
The Elvenkingdom is effectively if none too plushly done, though not inappropriately so in light of the frugal lifestyle that these not unwealthy tree-dwellers implicitly subscribe to. Beorn's living quarters are equally well executed, as are the homes of Bard et al in Lake-town. Throughout the extended takes involving Bard I found myself being constantly reminded of some other (seemingly LOTR) personage though I still can't for the life of me identify him. Various scenic shots, e.g. the sky view as we arrived over Esgaroth towards sunset, Dol Guldur and its immediate surrounds, and the lower recesses of the Lonely Mountain, were strikingly well-enacted, almost surrealistically 'realistic', compelling and even occasionally awe-evoking.
But again - and sadly the buts in this second film seem to fly out at you from each and every direction - way too many scenes and subscenes and (mini-)speeches even are uncannily or rather boringly (and frankly I'm rather disheartened - with myself - that I'd use such terms in regards to any Jackson interpretation of Tolkien) reminiscent of Lord of the Rings (that is, the film trilogy version thereof). At times even as if they'd been literally copied and pasted - the similarities are so blatant and flagrant, I kid you not one whit - directly from that earlier (though chronologically later) set of films. Sure, I'll admit they worked - and did they ever - exceptionally well the first occasion, but the second time they just came over as rather tawdry and cliche-ridden, and, more's the point, evincing sheer, unadulterated laziness on the part of PJ & Co. Or, to be very charitable, sheer forgetfulness.
Well, despite myself, here I'll choose charity, or mercy (over judgment) as the theologians (and Tolkien himself for that matter) would put it, (as so memorably restated by Gandalf to Frodo in the Mines of Moria in the Fellowship film). Could PJ, in recent times, have simply been spending a little too much time with a certain prime minister, whose charming and oh so convenient 'brain fades' just happen to have a rather bewitching, mesmerizing effect upon anyone who comes within cooee of them (and him)? It isn't completely inconceivable, after all, when you've been working so closely with something for as long as PJ Et Al have - even if the two (movie trilogy) 'stints' have been removed by around a decade from each other - to have become so deeply involved and engrossed with the material you've been working with and constantly alongside as to simply not realize where your various bits and pieces have ultimately originated from. But surely PJ & Co had much more than sufficient time (and opportunity) to find or create some new lines? Certainly the exorbitant cinema fees now generally being levied for these films in particular suggest so.
But to briefly restate my main bones of contention with the Desolation of Smaug, beginning with a seemingly minor one, but one nonetheless quite illustrative of the others. Sir Peter's own rather predictable cameo appearance (cf the Return of the King movie) at the film's start (in Bree) is more than gratuitous, given the utter gratuitousness of the very inclusion of that (Fellowship of the Ring) town at all. If nothing else revealing The Hobbit's hijacking from an innocent kids' adventure by Tolkien to a vanity project by Sir Peter Jackson. Moreover the Lake-town scenario, its various personages and all their comings and goings (especially their 'goings') is far too long, not just as regards this section's relative proportion of the book itself, but moreover in terms of the story (supposedly) being told: i.e. the company's quest for the Lonely Mountain, specifically their attempt to reclaim the literal dragon horde of treasure therein.
Why is this so? Essentially due to PJ Et Al's attempt to conflate this, as with much else, with events going on behind the scenes generally...i.e. the growing spectre and menace of the forces of darkness reasserting their long-maintained claims for hegemony upon Middle Earth. And so the two wholly different and distinct story lines once again appear to get needlessly - and what's more, quite distractingly - confounded, leading to a sense (for this soul, anyhow) of being bogged down in lots of unnecessary clutter (not to mention chitter chatter). Take it from a lifelong clutterer and compulsive hoarder - my sister believes that, like her, I suffer from OCD, i.e. obsessive compulsive disorder - to paraphrase C.J. on the all-time brilliant 70s and 80s British sitcom, The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin, I didn't get to where I [ain't] today without knowing clutter whenever I encounter it!
(i) Incidentally my second viewing of Desolation, with large bees 'coming out at you' on the 3D screen, struck an extremely personal note, coming as it did close on the heels of a recent return from a gardening job working amidst numerous rosebushes, whereupon I found myself suddenly literally surrounded by such. But unlike Jane Clifton, thankfully they avoided crawling up my nasal passages.
(ii) Especially in view of the various major (medical) mishaps/misadventures with which the Rings' film trilogy was plagued, at times bringing some major characters rather a little too close (for comfort) with severe injury, even death.
(iii) Though of course the book places this part of the story way further forward in time, having given the visit with Beorn in his secluded homestead and the journey through Mirkwood Forest a sizeably more significant portion of the overall story. Indeed Yours Truly has carefully computed the relative shares of each section, frequently consulting his special timepiece throughout (at least his first viewing), discovering that, just three-tenths/30 percent (45 minutes) on, film #2 had already traversed six-elevenths/55percent of the book, which wasn't so good for book aficionados, especially those (such as myself) deeply in love with Tolkien's own portrayal of his own story. In this regard chapter 10: 'A Warm Welcome', forming just 1-and-a-half pages (4% of the entire book) is here expanded to 13-and-a-third per cent of the entire film. (Still, the 3D element here (as with Smaug's lair, treasure hordes and home-under-the-mountain) is effectively carried through.)
(v) No (twin) reference (intended or otherwise) to Newstalk ZB's infamous twosome, Tim Roxborogh and Pam Corkery, though it has to be admitted that Corkery and Roxborogh are virtually the best thing to come to New Zealand talkback radio since unsliced bread itself.
(vi) According to the latest studio planning filming Down Under (of 'Z for Zechariah'), a landscape (South Canterbury's in particular) notable for its characteristic 'lushness, vibrancy and diversity'.
(vii) Peter Jackson's especial phobia, as all possessors of the thoroughgoing behind-the-scenes Lord of the Rings' dvds well know. ("Some kind of 'Spawn of Ungoliant' ", to quote Radagast.)
