Ringers' Enthusiasm Rings True for This Tolkien Fan

In 1999, just before I graduated from high school, I went to Barnes and Noble and was shocked by the sight of a display inviting me to enter a sweepstakes for which the prize would be a trip to New Zealand to get a behind-the-scenes peek at the filming of The Lord of the Rings. "They're filming Lord of the Rings?" I gasped before putting in my entry and hoping for the best. Alas, the dream vacation went to someone else, but I spent the next two years in eager anticipation of what I hoped would be a cinematic masterpiece worthy of my favorite book. As I perused the Internet for news, I discovered just how vast the fandom was. I may have felt rather isolated as a Tolkien enthusiast growing up, but the movies brought millions of fans out of the woodwork. And as much as I adore the good Professor and the fantastical realms he created, I quickly learned I was not his most ardent admirer. Not by a long shot.

Ringers: Lord of the Fans, written by Cliff Broadway and Carlene Cordova and produced in association with TheOneRing.net, taps into the frenzy Tolkien has inspired for seven decades. It's narrated by Dom Monaghan, who was catapulted from relative obscurity to superstardom with 2001's The Fellowship of the Ring, in which he portrayed the endearing hobbit Merry, constant companion of the mischievous Pippin, played by Billy Boyd. While Monaghan has the largest role in the documentary, Boyd, Elijah Wood (Frodo), Sean Astin (Samwise), Ian McKellan (Gandalf), Viggo Mortensen (Aragorn), Orlando Bloom (Legolas), Andy Serkis (Gollum), John Rhys-Davies (Gimli) and John Noble (Denethor) all offer commentary, as do director Peter Jackson, screenwriter Philippa Boyens and producer Barrie Osborne. Moreover, the film cuts periodically to a theater where fans in elaborate costumes are waiting five days to see the first showing of The Two Towers, and most of the fan testimonials focus on the movies.

Nonetheless, the movie works it way gradually to the present, so while we never forget about Jackson's epic, Tolkien's is still the primary focus. Monaghan recounts the publication of The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings, accompanied by a series of trippy Monty Python-esque illustrations. I'm especially amused by the trio of nay-saying critics - among whom is Harold Bloom, with whom I became intimately acquainted through several college English courses - who are silenced by the arrival of a winged C. S. Lewis and W. H. Auden singing Tolkien's praises.

Perhaps my favorite segment is entitled Of Hippies and Hobbits, which chronicles the profound influence Lord of the Rings had on the American counter-culture. Here we are treated to lots of video clips of sixties teens sitting around reading Tolkien and engaging in protests against Ace Books, which published unauthorized editions of the books, much to their author's consternation.

Tolkien societies, a gathering place for those caught up in what one observer called "intellectual hooliganism," began to form in this decade, and musicians incorporated Middle-earth themes and motifs into their recordings. Some, like many of Led Zeppelin's compositions, were impressive, while others - most notably Leonard Nimoy's ultra-campy The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins - were just silly. The marriage of music and Middle-earth has continued over the years, as demonstrated in a special feature that mostly includes footage scattered throughout the documentary itself. Among the contributors to these segments are Lemmy Kilmister of the band Motorhead and Geddy Lee of Rush.

Ringers makes note of the animated attempts at Tolkien - Rankin and Bass's The Hobbit and The Return of the King and Ralph Bakshi's The Lord of the Rings - but the tone is somewhat derisive. While I find Bakshi's vision a little too weird for my liking, he certainly gave it his best shot, and the documentary implies that he was denied the proper resources to do his project real justice. It's less kind to Rankin and Bass, as Monaghan and other commentators make cracks about Bilbo looking like a frog and ridiculous songs being forced upon people at the most inopportune moments. However, it also shows us some fans who cite The Hobbit as their all-time favorite movie, and we hear three different covers of songs from those films, including a haunting version of Leave Tomorrow 'Til It Comes that plays over the credits. I was interested to find out that this was not the first attempt at a film version of Lord of the Rings. One screenwriter got Tolkien's reluctant permission to give it a shot but couldn't find any interested parties, and in the sixties the Beatles put considerable effort into putting Lord of the Rings on the big screen, but their attempts were similarly fruitless. What a combination that would have been!

While Ringers is loaded with experts associated with Lord of the Rings is one way or another, many of the most interesting observations come from ordinary fans. Interviewer Cliff Broadway talks to fans in various locations, while a confessional booth records the ramblings of Comic-Con 2005 attendees, most of whom are garbed as various characters from Lord of the Rings, though there is the occasional Klingon or Jedi. The costumes are truly impressive, especially when we hear all the effort that went into them. My favorite was a Treebeard costume, which looked extremely realistic but difficult to walk and talk in. It's worth a look in the special features at a few of the more memorable Tolkien testimonials. These are undoubtedly some very passionate fans.

Some of them have stories to tell about brushes with Tolkien or folks involved with Jackson's film; others have unusual collections or have put their creativity to use in such famed works of fan fiction as Lord of the Peeps and The Original Pervy Hobbit Fancier's Journal. And then there's the woman in California who created Hobbiton, U.S.A., a walk through The Hobbit settled in an old stand of redwoods and featuring wooden representations of various locations in the book. It has a very homegrown look to it, nothing too fancy, but my eyes about popped out when I saw it, and it's definitely been added to my list of desired destinations.

If you've ever dreamed of moving to Middle-earth, spent a hundred dollars to look like an elf, rhapsodized for pages about your favorite hobbits or read Tolkien's masterpiece repeatedly, give Ringers a look and rest assured you are not alone.

You'll Never Look at a Wardrobe the Same Way Again...

The world could use a little bit more Magic. That’s what I think, and that’s what C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien thought when they wrote their respective masterpieces. For three years in a row, I got to see a sweeping cinematic interpretation of Tolkien’s epic, which I treasure more than any other. Last year, a dry spell. No lifelong friends, breathed into life anew from the deepest reaches of my childhood, to sustain me. A cold year indeed. But after a long winter, Middle-earth’s companion has come to join its majestic sibling, and Christmas has come at last. If the rest of the audiences were as enchanted as I was, The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe is only the first in a long and lustrous series, seven to match the number in the exploits of the boy wizard whose name need not be mentioned - a sacred number, and perhaps I should clarify that I do not mean Lewis is the good to Rowling’s evil, but rather a fellow spinner of tales so absorbing and spiritually stimulating they both invite and defy adaptation. But I have known Lewis much longer, and the glory of his natural world calls to me with more resonance than the Gothic surroundings in which young Mr. Potter finds himself. This is a film that is an event, a milestone and a beckoning. Embrace the child within that longs to crack open that wardrobe door and explore the world beyond - a world free of all the distractions and impurities of our own. Embrace the land of Narnia.

It is always difficult to adapt a book into a movie; the more beloved the source, the more likely you are to offend with your departures, though there is likely to be a large group of people who will see the film even if they are determined to hate it. The Chronicles of Narnia have a passionate following, as director Andrew Adamson and screenplay writer Ann Peacock clearly knew. How to translate the books without killing the magic? I believe they succeeded. There is a magnificence in this film I’ve not yet encountered in the Harry Potter adaptations. Instead, it begins to approach Lord of the Rings – especially in terms of the cinematography. Goodness gracious, but New Zealand has become quite the idyllic locale. Housing Middle-earth and Narnia is an impressive feat. I only hope these films don’t draw so many people to the islands that the pristine beauty for which they are lauded is diminished. Narnia is just gorgeous, and the film is awfully realistic-looking considering the fact that it’s populated mostly with characters who are at least partially computer generated. There’s nothing cartoonish about these beasts, and I think even Lewis would approve and agree that technology has finally caught up to his vision – an irony with both Tolkien and Lewis, who both treasured nature so deeply and were wary of industrialization.

Speaking of Tolkien, as I must when I mention Lewis, I thought I caught at least a couple nods to the good professor. The shot of the children and beavers huddling under a rocky overpass as they flee the White Witch is remarkably similar to the moment early in Fellowship in which the four young hobbits hide from their Nazgul pursuer. Later, the girls send an important message through the trees, and I can't help but think of the Beacons of Gondor. Finally, when the climactic battle is in full swing, a troop of eagles swoops down to provide unexpected aid. Could that be a small tribute to Lewis’ dear friend and fellow storyteller? But I’m getting ahead of myself. And so: the story. Remarkably, there seems to be very little missing, though sadly one of those things is the kindly giant Rumblebuffin, who is only alluded to with a brief glimpse of his statue in the Witch’s courtyard. However, a great deal has been added, and though I counted each departure with a bit of an inner grumble, in the end I found that most of the changes did not bother me. I have read that the director wanted to recapture the excitement he felt when he first encountered the books as a child, masking the slight disillusionment he experienced when he read it as an adult. The magic, it seemed, had gone. I still see the enchantment in Narnia’s pages, but then I never really have grown up. Adamson coaxes those who have become burdened with the trappings of adulthood to relinquish them for two and a half hours and believe again.

The story involves four children: Lucy (Georgie Henley), Edmund (Skandar Keynes), Susan (Anna Popplewell) and Peter Pevensie (William Mosely). In the film, we see their unnerving exodus from a war-torn English city into the relative safety of the countryside, where they take up residence with a reticent, eccentric professor (Jim Broadbent) and a cranky housekeeper (Elizabeth Hawthorne) in an enormous mansion in which most of the doors are kept locked. One, however, is enticingly open, and Lucy wanders into it during a game of hide and seek and there finds an object of awesome beauty: a wardrobe, ornately carved, drawing her in like a magnet (though she does, of course, remember to leave its door ajar for easy exit). When she stops brushing past fur coats and starts to get pricked by pine needles, it’s clear she’s stepped into a very strange wardrobe indeed, but she has no fear as she embarks upon this strange journey without her siblings into a world she did not know existed. Through this first trip, we see her sense of awe and wonder, her gentleness and emotional openness. For she quickly forges a delightful bond with a jittery but earnest faun named Mr. Tumnus (James McAvoy), a connection that will pave the way for all the adventures that follow.

In Narnia, we soon become accustomed to the sight of talking animals and creatures with features both human and bestial. The pristine snowfall comes to seem less enchanting than sinister, though as its grip weakens, it poses little threat – aside from in a rip-roaring river scene entirely absent in the book that nonetheless is quite exciting to watch. There are allies and enemies, and everyone seems to fall into one camp or another – for Aslan (Liam Neeson), the magnificent Lion who is the rightful king of Narnia, or Jadis (Tilda Swinton), an impostor who fancies herself the Queen and is responsible for the century of winter that has reigned in this magical land. Though this icy monarch refuses to admit it, she fears Aslan and the prophecy involving his return – a prophecy involving four humans. She will do anything to stop them from fulfilling their long foretold destinies, and it seems her job is made much simpler when she manages to woo a petulant Edmund, who encounters her alone before the four children finally make it through to Narnia together, to her side. While the fate of the land is ultimately in Aslan’s paws, the children have a great hand in it; they must battle fierce foes and their own interpersonal disputes before they can hope to save Edmund and, indeed, all of Narnia.

The cast is excellent, with Swinton most striking as the seductive witch. She is pale, beady-eyed and elegant – and as terrifying as Cruella De Vil, who seems cut from the same mold. Neeson gives kingly voice to the beautifully animated Lion, conveying both his warmth and his wrath. McAvoy is incredibly winning as Tumnus, and his relationship with Lucy is one of the most heartwarming aspects of the film. While all the supporting characters are excellent, particular attention must be paid to Ginarrbrik (Kiran Shah), Jadis’ the much-abused right-hand dwarf, and the Beavers (Ray Winstone and Dawn French), who are just as powerful a tribute to decent working-class folks as the Weasleys are in the Harry Potter books. The two bicker frequently, but always in love, and they clearly are two of Aslan’s most faithful followers. But it really is the children at the center of this story, and these four unknowns are marvelous, especially Henley, which makes me particularly happy. Lucy is just as curious and compassionate and connected to this strange new world as I would wish her to be, and Henley has just the right expressive qualities to accentuate the beauty of this character. Lucy is my favorite, and I applaud them for getting her right. Keynes, too, puts in a powerful performance as the outcast of the group. Though Lucy is always perfectly decent to him, Susan and Peter seem to have little affection but plenty of criticism for him, and it's easy to see why he would seek appreciation elsewhere. Peter is pretty much right but, like Aragorn in LotR, is far too reluctant to embrace his kingly destiny. He lacks some of the nobility he possessed in the book, and he’s too argumentative – as is Susan, though she always did strike me as a bit too bossy. In all honesty her overly grown-upness (well-intentioned as it often is) always rather got on my nerves, though Narnia eventually draws out her inherent sweetness. The three eldest children spend a great deal of time cross with one another, and I think they perhaps over-emphasized this, but it perhaps increases its resemblance to reality. In the end, no matter what their differences, the four children are family and they care deeply about each other, and that love can overcome many obstacles.

As I said, a great deal was added to this film in terms of exciting sequences, and there is much more emphasis on the battle with the White Witch than there was in the book, where it occupied a mere few paragraphs. As cinematic battles go, it’s pretty impressive-looking, and I understand the director’s choice in focusing on that, but I still wish we could have spent a bit more time in the courtyard with Aslan summoning the rest of the army. As in LotR, the best scenes are the personal ones, little moments in which the children come to appreciate one another more fully or are able to connect with their true monarch on a very intimate level. As long as these don’t get lost in the shuffle of special effects that are sure to be used liberally in the six sequels, I see no reason why all seven films can’t be equally enchanting. I for one can hardly wait for Prince Caspian. Until then, all I can say is well done and Godspeed. Narnia is just as magical as ever.

Elementary, My Dear Olaf! School, That Is...

After nearly a month of being too busy to pick up a book, I decided to resume my reading activities last week with the fifth book in the Series of Unfortunate Events. I was drawn in right away by what seemed to me a blaring tip of the hat to C.S. Lewis. Perhaps it was no such thing. But as I read the first line of The Austere Academy – “If you were going to give a gold medal to the least delightful person on Earth, you would have to give that medal to a person named Carmelita Spats, and if you didn’t give it to her, Carmelita Spats was the sort of person who would snatch it from your hands anyway" – I was forcefully reminded of another fifth book in a series. Well, I knew it as the third book, but most kids reading it now will know it as the fifth. I refer to Voyage of the Dawn Treader, one of the seven Chronicles of Narnia. That book has one of the best opening lines I have ever encountered: “There was a boy called Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it.” Anyway, whether or not it was intentional, anything that reminds me of C. S. Lewis is automatically at an advantage. I can’t help but think there was some small degree of influence there, as Voyage of the Dawn Treader launches a small assault on the state of current schooling that is amplified in The Silver Chair, while The Austere Academy provides an exaggerated vision of the worst boarding school has to offer.

Of course, exaggeration is expected on any book bearing the name Lemony Snicket. His macabre tales are skewered just enough that we can heave a sigh of relief that this probably couldn’t happen in contemporary society. Of course, if contemporary society had their way, I suspect the Baudelaires would be separated and sent to three foster homes, and I can’t imagine a more unfortunate event than that. Nonetheless, the intrepid orphans’ troubles are far from over when they reach Prufrock Preparatory School, which is headed by a narcissistic Vice Principal (curiously, no mention of a Principal is made) whose passion for the violin is only matched by his lack of talent for playing it. This ponytailed, sarcastic Vice Principal is so unreasonable that he forces Violet, Klaus and Sunny to reside in the “orphans’ shack,” a dilapidated residence whose ceiling leaks fungus and whose floor is infested with crabs. What’s more, he enlists Sunny as his administrative assistant and forces her to make her own staples when his office supplies run out. Additionally, he enforces a number of ludicrous rules, the violation of which usually involves the revoking of certain lunch privileges, such as being allowed silverware. Missing one of his interminable concerts carries the especially harsh penalty of being forced to buy him a large bag of candy and watch him eat it. I couldn’t help but be reminded a bit of Chalie’s teacher in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and a lot of Miss Trunchbull in Matilda when I observed this administrator’s antics, and the more I think of it, the more echoes of Roald Dahl I find in Snicket’s work.

As unpleasant as the orphans’ lot is at Prufrock Prep, it doesn’t get truly grim until the arrival of the new gym teacher, a turbaned fellow who insists that the Baudelaires possess unique athletic abilities and promptly enlists them in the Special Orphans Running Exercises, the acronym of which describes how they feel after they are forced to participate. It doesn’t help that there is something very familiar about this particular instructor… But there are bright spots in all this misery. Along with the children’s own interminable optimism, they soon acquire a much more solid morale booster: friends. Although their first encounter with their classmates was negative – due to the aforementioned Carmelita Spats – they soon find solace with Duncan and Isadora Quagmire, children as compatible as possible with the Baudelaires, not only in terms of temperament and interests but also because of their own incredible misfortune. Now instead of three, there are five working together to uncover the next sinister plot of the greedy and omnipresent Count Olaf.

I enjoyed this book a great deal. In fact, it may be my favorite book in the series so far. Duncan and Isadora are welcome additions whom I hopefully suspect will return at some later point. In spite of Snicket’s descriptions to the contrary, I found Mrs. Bass and Mr. Remora, Klaus and Violet’s teachers, to be quite sympathetic characters, if admittedly rather dull. Four relatively pleasant new people in one book is the highest count so far, and it probably contributed to the lighter feel of this volume, especially after the exceedingly dark Miserable Mill. Snicket slathers on the one-off oddities here, too, which is again a welcome relief. Examples: “Klaus had known for all twelve of his years that his older sister found a hand on her shoulder comforting – as long as the hand was attached to an arm, of course.” “Each morning, she would walk into Room Two carrying a bag full of ordinary objects – a frying pan, a picture frame, the skeleton of a cat…” “Assumptions are dangerous things to make, and like all dangerous things to make – bombs, for instance, or strawberry shortcake – if you make even the tiniest mistake you can find yourself in terrible trouble.”

The delectable berries may signal trouble to the deluded mind of Lemony Snicket, but I’m sure that if the Baudelaires could “remember the taste of strawberries,” they might draw some small comfort from that, and from the hope that they might one day have the privilege of enjoying the pleasures of life again. For the time being, all they have is each other, but that is just enough to keep them going as they venture uneasily towards their next inevitably unfortunate escapade.

The Great Story

The Last Battle, the last volume of The Chronicles of Narnia, is one of the most moving books I have ever read. In order to be properly impacted by it, you should first read the other six volumes so that you truly care about Narnia, Aslan, and the British children before you pick this up. It is clear from the beginning that this will be the last book -- the events are described as being "in the last days of Narnia". For those who have come to know and love Narnia, this is a disturbing prospect indeed.

The trouble begins when a shifty ape finds a lion skin and convinces Puzzle, a slow-witted but kindly donkey, to wear it, thereby impersonating Aslan, the Great Lion who is Ruler of Narnia. Soon Narnia is thrown into an uproar as the Ape tells its citizens that he is Aslan's spokesman and insists they do as he says. The warlike citizens of the country Calormene are brought in to aid the Ape in his attempt to take over.

By the time King Tirian discovers the atrocities which have been occurring in Aslan's name, he is too late to stop it. He turns himself in after killing a Calormene guard and is tied to a tree, where he begs for help in restoring his country. Help arrives in the form of two British children, Jill and Eustace, who have made the journey to Narnia before. They free Tirian and his friend the unicorn, and Jill discovers Puzzle huddling in the barn and insists upon taking him along.

Together, they plan a counter-attack, but confusion and fear run rampant in Narnia and the good creatures of the forest are afraid to lash out against someone who claims to speak for Aslan. A fierce battle ensues, and Tirian and his allies cringe at the thought of the evil being they know is inside the stable. They are hopelessly outnumbered, and it is only a matter of time before each of them goes to face the fearsome beast.

But each is shocked to discover that inside the stable, instead of a fiery foe sure to tear them to shreds, is a beautiful land as calm and peaceful as the most idyllic summer moment in Narnia. More amazing still, Tirian finds himself surrounded by Narnia's High Kings and one of the High Queens -- legendary figures who had ruled during Narnia's Golden Age. Along with them are Digory and Polly, who witnessed the creation of Narnia.

From their new vantage point, the young people watch in awe as the true Aslan destroys Narnia before their very eyes. The stars come down from the sky, the earth is ripped apart, blackness consumes everything -- but those who love Aslan join King Tirian and his friends in the wonderful new land. And as they mourn together the death of the wonderful country they had all loved so much, they realize that it has not truly been destroyed after all. Indeed, the Narnia they loved was really only a shadow; their true home lies before them.

The imagery in this book is absolutely fantastic. Aslan's Country offers a clear and convincing vision of Heaven, and the ending will leave most readers with a deep sense of peace. The ties between this book and "Revelation" are unmistakable, and I would heartily recommend it to anyone doing an in-depth study of that final book of "The Bible". Especially interesting is who Aslan allows into His Country...it may give you a new way of looking at things.

All Biblical references aside, this is a grand finale to a truly wonderful work of literature. Lewis' writing style is accessible to children without being too simplistic for adults, and this is one of the only books you can read which has a truly happy ending.