[8.2/10] I remember reading about the “extended editions” of the *Lord of the Rings* films – which add scads of new footage to the point that runtimes balloon to the four-hour mark – and thinking to myself, “who would want that?” Even for films and characters and settings I love, the prospect of turning it into a nonstop four-hour experience just sounds exhausting. Even the best creative teams struggle to sustain stories and command the audience’s attention for that long.
But revisiting *The Fellowship of the Ring*, I get it now, for good and for bad.
I get it because right off the bat, what Peter Jackson accomplishes in this film, which sets the tone for his Oscar-winning trilogy, is incredible. The production design, the worlds created, the sheer level of craft at play in every scene is just staggering. Jackson and company summon up the earthy tones and idealized pastoral English past of The Shire. They create the rocky remnants of decaying worlds from another time, the frightening jagged edges and horrible machines of the enemy forces, the ethereal homes of angelic peoples. Who wouldn’t want to spend more time in those cinematic environs?
What’s remarkable is how real all of it feels, despite the fantasy setting. That’s not to say that *Fellowship* lacks in imagination or whimsy. There are impressionistic moments of lore retold, memories shared, and temptations renewed. But through the famed forced perspective shots, the budding but well-executed CGI effects, and the outstanding framing cinematography choices, the film realizes Middle Earth as a living, breathing, place beyond any other fantasy setting.
The texture of the film is just so damn good. But Jackson and company use the lighting and mise en scène and other more purely aesthetic elements to help tell the tale and give it a sense of a place. There is a golden, bucolic hue to the early scenes in the Shire, a gauzy, semi-divine light that surrounds the elves’ communities, and mordant blackness that surrounds Sauron’s emissaries and minions. The wide shots of our heroes traversing snowy mountains, or rocky cliffs, or treacherous forests give the tale its epic scope and bridge the gap between the real and the fantastical. It’s natural that the outstanding tangible details, the feel of this place, would leave fans wanting to spend as much time there as they can.
And I also get it because, despite the theatrical cut clocking in at more than three hours on its own, *Fellowship* feels as much like a series of character introductions, a bout of table-setting for the grand events to come, as it feels like a full story in its own right. That’s not true for the entire film. The early portions of *Fellowship* work as a standard-but-sterling entrée into the world of the film and its characters, and in truth, I’m not sure it ever really tops that opening frame. The milling of the hobbits, the arrival of their wizard friend, the hint that there is something sinister and wearying beneath this celebration of joy and the adventure of the wider world of that first act is near-unmatched in the rest of the film.
It is, as is often the case for genre films, the beginning of the hero’s journey. We meet Frodo and learn what kind of person he is. We see the essential quest that lies ahead of him and learn about his connection to his friend and allies. We meet his mentor, who is our guide to the mysteries of the world that are just as nebulous and foreboding to the audience (even those who know the source material) as they are to the hobbit he’s imparting these warnings to. The terrible power of the ring, the forces for good and for evil working to attain or destroy it, its humble courier and his band of allies simple and strong, all welcome the audience into the story. They establish the stakes, the major figures, and the contours of the quest, while reveling in enough of the unknown and portentous and merely teased to leave plenty more to be discovered and enjoyed.
But from there, the film is a never-ending parade of the genre-film equivalent of a series of meetcutes. Jackson and company have to put all of these big players in place for the need of the future films, and so rather than a plot squarely focused on cause and effect, where choices or unseen forces command the direction of the narrative, *Fellowship* barrels through what amount to a pack of character introduction scenes. Those are necessary in any story to some extent, but at some point, the film starts to feel weighed down by them, with the plot not really allowed to advance organically since we need to spend so much time trying to get the audience to grok the expansive cast.
So meet Gimli! Meet Legolas! Meet Arwen! Meet Galadriel! Meet Saruman! Meet Elrond! Most of them don’t have much to do yet, beyond hop along for the ride or give our heroes some counsel or set things up for future installment. But the actors are all great and the texture is all great and the *feel* of it’s all great so you don’t really notice until afterward that hey, nothing really happened there for a while. I can see wanting the extended edition to have there be more connective tissue between these scenes, to have the introductions feel less drive-by in some instances, so the story can stop and breathe and, you know, have more incident than just jumping from introduction to introduction.
That’s especially true for the conflict between Aragorn, Boromir, and to a lesser extent Frodo. Boromir’s death is the climax of the film, the noble sacrifice and redemption for a character overcome by the dark influence of the one ring. It also conveniently paves the way for Aragorn, the conventional fantasy hero, to have a clearer path toward the throne his hallowed, name-checked ancestor once sat in amid the kingdom of men.
The catch is that we get only the barest, exposition-delivered details about this setup (which, in fairness, is explored more in the next movie.) We get only a couple of scenes that highlight the implicit, underlying tension between the two human members of the Fellowship. There’s an inherent gingerness between them, a continuing contrast that’s creditably left to subtext, between the noble man denied his birthright, and the weaker individual next in line. But given the brevity of the scenes that evince that sense of inherent conflict and comparison, the slight introduction for Boromir in particular, the crowding of that storyline with the description of The Quest and the carousel of new faces and other action set pieces that must happen, that noble end feels less earned and less impactful, than it would if it had more time to be fleshed out.
And yet, even where the introductions are brief, or the characters moments feel rushed, the movie soars on the back of its three central character. The first is The Ring itself, and by extension Sauron. And while it may be a little silly to consider this object a character, but drives the action of the film, it interacts with and has an effect on everyone it comes across and has more personality than some of the people that *Fellowship* otherwise glosses over. If there’s one thing that this movie succeeds at, it’s the texture, but if there’s a second thing, it’s at conveying the sheer power and force and danger of this seemingly simple object, that movies the hearts of men, elves, and even the most powerful magic-wielders of the age.
It doesn’t move Frodo though. That’s the other thing *Fellowship* sells so well – why our hero is so suited to this task. The ring represents power, and with it, the idea that even good people lose themselves in the shadow of the freedom and ability to remake and dominate the world as they see fit. But Frodo doesn’t want power. He is innocence incarnate, realized in Elijah Wood’s stellar wide-eyed performance. Time and again, he expresses the vulnerability necessary for a character stepping into a new world while being totally out of his depth. But he also evinces the quiet strength that can only come from someone whose same unspoiled innocence gives him a protection against the thing that otherwise bends and breaks figures much more worldly and powerful and him.
None is more worldly and powerful than Gandalf himself. Ian McKellen gives a tour de force performance in the role, turning on a dime from the avuncular, figure of mirth when he exalts among his hobbit friends, to the stern voice of knowing authority when those good or bad start to stray from the path, to the vulnerable sorcerer having to stand up against forces that supersede even his own, selling the gravity of this challenge at every turn. McKellen does it all and delivers the sometimes-thudding fantasy-speak with a conviction and gravitas that makes the grand tones of the movie work.
His utterance of “You shall not pass” has become memetic and iconic in the years since the *Fellowship*’s release, but for good reason. It is not only Gandalf’s greatest moment in the film, and perhaps the series, but the high point of the entire film. It is the fellowship assembled, the film’s best character making his stand, Jackson’s skills as an action director and crafted of tension coming to the fore, the effects and texture of the world brought to bear, the tension and heroism and loss that makes all good stories. It is, in short, the combination of all the film’s best features at once.
Who wouldn’t want more of that? *The Fellowship of the Ring* strings some of its character debuts together in lieu of plot, offers as much setup as it does immediate incident, and can get bogged down in its lore and details and table-setting for the climactic events to come. But it also establishes Middle Earth, introduces its major quest and most important character with aplomb, and gives the viewer a reason to care, to invest, in them and their success or failure. That’s more than enough to have fans salivating for another chunk of Middle Earth, and to leave even doubters understanding how more real estate could help, rather than exacerbate, the film’s flaws. But whether at three hours or four, *Fellowship* is still a sterling introduction to this world, to our heroes, and to the impossible mission that will define both for ages to come.
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