Boogie Nights

We got back eventually, but why such a detour? It felt a little off-the-rails for the young director. I could justify it with a grander return, but the return felt rushed and inauthentic. With any other director I'd call it slave to formula, foolish rising action, conflict, and redemption, but I know even so early in his career that wouldn't explain it. Maybe I don't understand the movie well enough to justify its arc. But I remember feeling this the first time as well -- the arc doesn't pay off for me, for my experience. That's why my second time I stopped halfway in. It plummets, although I can appreciate some great Paul Thomas Anderson premonitions in the wandering section. I'm not sure those moments suit this movie, but it's clear he's honing a craft, which I'll come to love. I value this movie first for its bold energy in the first half, and second for its dramatic foreshadowing of later PTA, largely in the second half. Actually, some final moments were surprisingly poignant for me. But at the end of the day I lose little if the film stops halfway in. It's all about that early energy, fearless to satisfy its patron. It's amazing how unsatisfying movies are. Even after smart folks like PTA and Tarantino reformed the rules, satisfaction still seems hard to come by. As mentioned recently Django ultimately disappointed, though it had boundless liberty and nothing to lose. Therefore PTA reigns as far as I can see in cinematic gratification for the bright and subtle. The dictum for the first half of this movie seems to be "why not?"; I'm not sure what happens in the second half, but the first feels like a revelation in 1997. Some of these actors were probably revelations -- otherwise how could the movie afford such stars, if it didn't launch them itself? I can't imagine this was the most profitable project. Artistically it pays off, for original vision, not necessarily depth. The second half could reward if it added any depth, but I don't think it does. I don't know why he did that. What a powerhouse film if the second half added depth. But it's about style, and it succeeds.

The Hobbit (1977)

Hmmm. Tolkien's book can be seen as fiction for young people... but this film seems like a travesty. It doesn't work to evacuate all intellect and artistry for juvenile accessibility. It's not that kind of fiction for young people. Yet I can imagine loving this movie, in a past or future life. It's interesting how people come to love things. I'd need to generate all the nostalgia I missed never seeing this before age 25... unlikely. Maybe I'll never see it again. I still think I far prefer everything about The Lord of the Rings to The Hobbit, but the latter I love nonetheless, and this movie was truer to it in some ways than Peter Jackson's -- and falser in some. Probably much falser in spirit, indeed maybe a bastardization, lacking true veneration, yet trumping Jackson in many faithful moments. Maybe it was my coincident growth with Tolkien and Jackson, but the spirit of his movies seems true despite gross aberrations. This movie didn't feel true despite sections of formal adherence. Of course, of the three, Tolkien's own is the worthiest work. This movie drew directly from Tolkien yet felt not to come from him at all. There was little of the spirit here. Oh well.

Maybe I can't imagine loving this movie, in any life. It doesn't seem to love Tolkien. I was optimistic and intrigued going in, and can conceive an old animated adaptation that feels true and worthy; but this isn't it. I thought I was in for a real OG Tolkien adaptation; what I found was a real No-G Tolkien adaptation.

Now reading the Wikipedia article...

"...some Tolkien fans questioned the appropriateness of repackaging the material as a family film for a very young audience."

Wikipedia also calls the novel "children's fantasy", which is interesting, but regardless doesn't point to such an adaptation as this. Tolkien wrote for bright children or to make children brighter; this movie panders lame toddlers.

The Hobbit

These movies are obviously near, dear siblings to the earlier trilogy, and I love them for that. What separates them besides a decade is the excessive Hollywood drama of the later. The novel is far lighter than The Lord of the Rings; but ten years and incalculable anticipation after the first three movies, I imagine it didn't make sense to consider a proportionately light film trilogy. Perhaps it's Jackson's fault for tackling The Lord of the Rings first -- by far the greater story. The Hobbit feels like a musical prelude that just teases the motifs of the piece before wandering toward its own end. While it makes little sense to inflate it crudely toward the other's proportions, I guess it was hard to justify a significantly lighter chronological sequel. Though I never knew it, the anticipation must have been incredible around 2012. Jackson had all pathways of epicness mapped already. Movies had blown up in scale. Fandom awaited. Signs pointed to an attempted match of the former. But that was toxic from the start. Serious Tolkien fans could probably hardly stomach the treatment, savory as it was to see everyone on screen again. The adaptation didn't make sense, fractured by intentions of purity and marketability. This is no auteur piece -- everyone knew the treasure and flocked like five armies to Erebor. There's no way to support that conflict, and The Hobbit is valiant if tragic. It does enough to satisfy all layers of Tolkien fan -- though I'd probably feel alienated if I wasn't one.

It's all absolutely excessive. It's as though the writers took sections from the book and, prompted by studio, discussed how to amplify them to 11. Alfrid is a ridiculous amplification of Grima, if you can imagine dramatizing Grima any further. The film's treatment of Alfrid is despicable. As I mentioned in my last post, we have all these people dangling from one arm, and even another in the last film! Are the filmmakers not embarrassed? Inviting Legolas can't have fooled anyone -- it's a cheap Hollywood trick. Tauriel and Kili are simple star-crossed lovers. It's all ridiculous and excessive. The Hobbit was never cut out for this. The novel is a fairytale or a prelude, depending on perspective. It's not an epic. It can't be reconciled into an epic -- it doesn't make sense. The attempt is slightly insulting, though obviously I feel the tug as anyone else. There's just enough purity that I have to love it. Tears must well up when Thorin charges out the gates, or Galadriel banishes the darkness. You can't bastardize the world into ambivalence -- the material is rich, so any good-hearted formulation is rich to the knowing eye. I am inevitably subject to this powerful matter however it manifests, and Jackson's work is not the least true.

But it is offensive. All kinds of subtle beauty lace The Hobbit. The adaptation feels at times like a rape -- not malevolent, but far from the elegance of love. If you love something, you let it be -- it's perfect as is. If it's worth loving, it's perfect, and no more can be asked. These movies pretend to enhance and therefore just corrupt The Hobbit. If you love it, enhancement is neither needed nor desired. Besides, Tolkien already had a hard enough time winning over the stoics. He won me over, but these movies sail far into the realm of sappy, overwrought fantasy. I never loved Tolkien for his fantasy; his work I find transcendently rich and beautiful. I'd have a hard time if these films were the first I saw. They're just absurd. Every trope is satisfied and amplified, for a story that never asked to be more than a hobbit's tale. The nature of hobbits is unassuming, and these movies assume the world.

I found it interesting that Ian McKellen is listed first in the credits. He's the great veteran -- but Bilbo may be Tolkien's first, last, and greatest character, not to mention the centerpiece of this film -- his film. And Martin Freeman doesn't underperform, though I could have used more attention to him. At times the film seemed to forget about him. I thought he was perfect, balancing mild manners and a simple heart with unexpected valor. Hobbits are truly remarkable, as was he. Ian McKellen is of course Gandalf entirely -- and Gandalf means him. Thorin seemed well-portrayed. I can't ask for less of what I got (dark and heavy things, Sauron, the Council, Azog, everything successfully injected for dramatic gravitas), but I can't help wanting more Bilbo. Bilbo seems to be the essence of it all. The earlier trilogy doesn't do his character justice at all, and this one overlooks him at times: he might be Tolkien's most perfect creation, a symbol of all things good in Middle-earth. Bilbo seems to be the real purpose. Martin Freeman, as far as I can tell, was as good as we can hope for. Same Ian McKellen. Frodo on the other hand was an interesting choice!

Of course I love it. It's probably the closest thing I'll ever get to the earlier trilogy. It wasn't actually an intense experience -- it all felt so comfortable, despite just seeing it once, six years ago. I knew the novel well, and I'm actively reading The Lord of the Rings, so nothing came out of nowhere. Nor did I ever cherish The Hobbit like The Lord of the Rings, in any manifestation. I fundamentally care less about dwarves than elves, hobbits, probably men, various maia, etc. Beorn, northern Mirkwood, Esgaroth Dale and Erebor... none of this is of much consequence to me. Especially the final quarter of the novel impacts me little, as it seemed to impact Tolkien little -- I think he rushed through it. I mean I get it and love it but nowhere near like other stuff. I never loved the materials of The Hobbit like The Lord of the Rings. That's why I see it as a fairytale and prelude, and its most exciting moments for me are its teases -- the Ring, Gandalf, the Necromancer, everything is surging albeit quietly now. I know what comes next: the dam breaks. Thorin's end is entirely peripheral. I like it no less than anything else in Middle-earth, but wouldn't give it a whole story, a trilogy of comparable length and grandeur to the other. Tolkien himself admits and everyone knows the events in The Hobbit are ultimately peripheral to the history. The connection is the finding of the Ring, and denying the Enemy a stronghold (Mirkwood nor Erebor). But that's minimal content of the book! It's a story by a storyteller itching to test himself. Maybe at one time he loved The Hobbit best. But it was eclipsed by the great history, culminating in The Lord of the Rings. People seem to consider The Hobbit a classic. I'm not sure I thought it was all that great, and Tolkien soon gets very obsessed with everything else. But The Hobbit is Bilbo's tale, and Bilbo means Tolkien. In all the noise of the book, and especially the movie, Bilbo shines through enough to treasure it.

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey

Need everything be so dramatic? It all goes to the extreme. The company shelters in trees in the book, so in the movie they're in trees which domino to the edge of a cliff. Do trees domino like that? Why did they choose such a precarious location? In the book they're on some delicate heights, so in the movie at least twice someone dangles by one hand, and both times someone else ends up dangling with them. It wasn't enough to be on delicate heights, nor for one person to dangle. But TWO people dangling? That's cinema. Similarly Gandalf+Elrond is insufficient so enter Galadriel and Saruman, plus double-take intimacy between Gandalf and Galadriel -- am I watching the trailer for Mary Magdalene? And I know what's coming -- overwrought Legolas cameo + Evangeline Lily. This is definitely excessive, and a sad admission of the state of things, specifically since Jackson's first trilogy. This drama seems all but mandatory now, for broad watchability. Or did Jackson himself change? Either way Tolkien must be insulted. It's still wonderful, but severely dramatized, and lacking the earlier trilogy's purity. Then again, The Hobbit is intrinsically less dramatic. But that's why people love it. It's lighter on its feet. These movies are so dark! I like the darkness of The Lord of the Rings relative to The Hobbit, in their literary manifestations, but in film the latter darkness is contrived.