Spotlight

Spotlight Date: 11-January-04
 
 

Hope in Peter Jackson's "The Lord of the Rings"

It is natural for man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty? -- Patrick Henry

In 2001, when I saw the first installment of Peter Jackson's magnificent epic "The Lord of the Rings," it struck me as having a single overarching theme: hope. This made sense, since "The Fellowship of the Ring" introduced a group of characters, representing whole nations, who faced a difficult journey and an undetermined fate. When I saw "The Two Towers" a year later, I felt that the theme had shifted from hope to solidarity, which also made sense considering that a war had begun involving all the creatures of Middle Earth. Now that the story has ended with "The Return of the King," I realize that the themes of the first two films were not distinct, and that the all-important message of the trilogy is that hope is not a personal experience generated by fear and uncertainty, but a treasure given by one person to another as a source of inspiration. Of course, this idea originates in J. R. R. Tolkien's original work, but the books never made it clear to me. I view it as a beautiful and original notion that adds to the brilliance of Jackson's masterpiece.

The central action of the story begins with a sworn alliance between individuals of very different lineage and culture. In some ways, it's a motley crew: the first captain falls to apparent death and is succeeded by a recluse who shuns leadership; two of the company are at odds over an ancient feud; four are diminutive naifs; and one, Boromir, feels such pressure to excel that he is ripe for corruption. They set out with little reason to expect success, and by the end of the first film have suffered a number of setbacks. And yet, at the same time, we feel that their chances are improved because experience has strengthened the ties between them. The elf queen Galadriel tells them that "hope remains while the company is true" (looking squarely at Sam, whose role as the living embodiment of friendship and loyalty becomes the trilogy's most important storyline). It is significant that Boromir is the only member who does not survive; unlike the others, he never honors the fellowship or their mission more than his own country, his own family, and, to a lesser extent, his own glory, which weakens him until he painfully admits to Aragorn that he cannot see any hope. It's telling, too, that his last words (which do not appear in Tolkien) transfer allegiance to one of his comrades, thereby reflecting a belated recognition of his folly.

The remaining heroes' jeopardy and futility grow to an astonishing degree in "The Two Towers," but so too does their devotion to kindred races and each other. An important new people, the Rohirrim, are introduced through Eomer, who is banished from the halls of his uncle the king and in bitterness tells Aragorn that "hope...has forsaken these lands." (His banishment, like much of the second movie, comes from the mind of Jackson & company and not the books.) This sets the tone for the picture as a whole, which chiefly concerns two new characters who have lost their way and feel alone. King Theoden is released from an evil spell but still struggles with doubts about his own worth and the survival of the Rohirrim in the face of "reckless hate." After they flee to the fortress of Helm's Deep, his desperation spreads even to the fearless elf Legolas before being checked by Aragorn, whose rejection of despair is rewarded by the timely appearance of old friends not once, but twice. Meanwhile, Frodo and Sam form an unlikely association with the miserable wreck Gollum (whom Sam aptly dubs "hopeless"), a creature so far removed from the affection of others that you cannot blame him for proclaiming, through the film's haunting signature song, "In the end I will be what I will be; no loyal friend was ever there for me." As we see in the opening of the saga's final chapter, Gollum forfeited his claim to companionship long ago, which makes him the only character without access to hope.

By the time all hell breaks loose in "The Return of the King," it's hard not to share Gandalf's belief that what hope remains for Middle Earth is, and always was, but a fool's hope. The armies of the enemy are innumerable, and the fate of Frodo and the ring depends upon Gollum, whose resentment has turned to treachery. But Jackson spins this calamity into highly affecting gold by emphasizing how the determination of each person sustains everybody else, as when Gandalf rouses the men of Gondor to action; when Eowyn recommends "courage for our friends" to Merry before they charge into battle and defeat the Witch King; when Aragorn leads his army to the Black Gate to distract the Eye of Sauron away from Frodo; and when Sam does every wonderful thing he does out of the enormity of his hobbit-sized heart. All of these moments are incredibly powerful, yet none comes close to the purity of the scene that defines Jackson's vision above all others: when the signal beacons are lit from Gondor to Rohan, forging a chain hundreds of miles long, renewing old pacts between nations, confirming the brotherhood of men, and foreshadowing the triumph of light over darkness. The import of this scene is Jackson's alone; for where Tolkien writes "War is kindled" in his brief paragraph about the lighting of the beacons, in the movie Gandalf responds quite differently, remarking "Hope is kindled."

The common use of the word "hope" is a bit discouraging; it describes an attitude one takes to defy long odds or the short end of the stick with one's own faith, resilience, or audacity. But while the challenges faced by the central characters in "The Lord of the Rings" involve both defiance and discouragement, their hope never does. Nor does it depend upon intangible qualities or the outcome of the future. Instead, it derives solely from their bonds of love and friendship, bonds which supersede all fears, doubts, and misgivings and propel them to keep trying, to the benefit of all. When cornered by a vastly superior force at Helm's Deep, Aragorn invites the wavering Theoden to ride out and meet their attackers. "For death and glory," Theoden agrees, a mad glint appearing in his eye. Aragorn corrects him: "For Rohan. For your people." In Peter Jackson's telling of Tolkien's legend, hope resides in union, and this is one of the movies' many glories.

Copyright © 2004 The Jujube (M. I. Kim). All rights reserved.