Of Hobbits, Rings, and
Flying Monkeys
by Ed Owens
If there's one film that needs no introduction, it's Citizen
Kane . But if there were two, the second would be Peter Jackson's
latest installment in The Lord of the Rings trilogy. The hype
surrounding the release of The Two Towers
has already far surpassed that of its predecessor, The Fellowship
of the Ring, and from the looks of it, will continue well through
the next year.
Much has been made of Jackson's astounding use of CGI, the crowning
achievement of which is Gollum, a fully CG character whose interaction
with the flesh and blood actors and rocky environments around him are
very nearly seamless, as well as the incredible climactic battle at
Helm's Deep. But beyond the awe-inspiring eye candy seemingly omnipresent
throughout, is there anything else here to recommend?
Sadly,
the answer is no. The story picks up immediately where the first film
left off (well, not immediately--there's a few minutes of overlap, the
exact purpose of which is still a mystery): Frodo and Sam are headed
for Mount Doom, deep in the heart of Mordor, in an effort to destroy
the one great ring while Merry and Pippin are being held captive by
the Uruk-hai with Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn in hot pursuit. The rest
of the narrative is a tangled mess that sacrifices development of any
kind at the altar of spectacular setpieces.
In fact, the biggest problem with The Two Towers is that its
narrative borders on incoherence, partially due to things that were
cut from the first film (such as the gift-giving at Lothlorien, a scene
that, although restored for the extended director's cut, should never
have been excised in the first place) and partially due to things that
were cut from the novel (Gandalf's transformation from Gandalf the Grey
to Gandalf the White is handled so blithely as to strip it of any and
all significance). The result is a visually spectacular film that gives
us little reason to care.
Jackson cuts back and forth between the three main storylines like
vaudevillian plate spinner, moving from thread to thread more simply
to keep things moving than out of narrative necessity. Though he never
really lets one fall (he comes dangerously close with Merry and Pippin's
strained adventures with the Ent Treebeard), he's too spread out to
really let any of them breathe. The pacing thus seems less confident,
less self-assured, than the previous film, and even results in some
critical missteps (the intercutting during the battle at Helm's Deep
is downright jarring at times, and the utterly pointless addition of
scenes involving Arwen bring the film to a screeching halt for most
of their ten minute length).
Details
get lost in the shuffle (such as why a character we've known for two
minutes would deserve a nearly five minute death scene, complete with
swelling strings and anguished cries from our heroes), and, even worse,
pesky things like allegiance, motive, and nuance are flattened to the
point of becoming irrelevant. We know the various battles are important
(largely because important characters have told us so), but the film
never really shows us the importance. While it's difficult to determine
precisely who suffers the most at the hands of Jackson's reductivism,
the character of Gimli would certainly be in the running. Tolkien's
valiant dwarf has here been reduced to comic relief, with nearly all
of his dialogue consisting of little more than "snappy" one-liners.
Other less serious missteps hinder the film as well. Frodo and Sam's
big scene at the black gate will have most people scanning the background
for flying monkeys, while Legolas' stair-surfing antics are downright
groan-inducing.
As
I said before, the film is visually stunning, but it ultimately feels
like its missing something (The Fellowship of the Ring felt
the same way, but did a better job of hiding the gaps). When all the
sound and fury has subsided, what's left are a series of important questions
that the film barely even alludes to, much less actually answers--not
the narrative questions which are to be expected from the middle film
of a trilogy, but questions about the characters we've just spent three
hours with and the events we've just witnessed, questions that may very
well be answered in an extended director's cut. Until then, The
Two Towers stands as an ambitious failure, a film that, though
entertaining to some degree, falls short of the goals it has set for
itself - and no amount of CGI, good or bad, can compensate.
©2002 Ed Owens
CineScene
