The age of innocence

Ring junkies will be stunned by what Peter Jackson has done to their precious The Two Towers. Rather than feature an on-screen illustration of the book, the director imposes a cinematic structure that mines J. R. R. Tolkien’s prose. Jackson takes Tolkien’s lines and puts them in the context of a visual narrative. The result is a retelling for a generation nostalgic for an age of innocence. Like Akira Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai or Frank Miller’s 300, Peter Jackson’s The Two Towers immortalizes a tale of moral violence, indomitable wit, and impossible odds.

Rabid fans would do well to check their dog-eared paperbacks at the door: Jackson’s film is as different from Tolkien’s novel as trees are from trees. They may have the same bark, but their fractured storylines branch out in different ways and, in certain instances, bear different fruit.

Purists must forgive Jackson the liberties he takes with the sacred text for there is a method to his madness. Like a jazz-improvisation artist, he plays riffs off Tolkien’s themes and builds upon them. The director goes beyond plot logic and veers toward emotional truth. Not content with plot-driven characters, he creates credible characters of his own.

In Tolkien’s novel, the King of Rohan sends the women and children to safety in Dunharrow and leads the Rohirrim to war. The Horse-lords are overwhelmed by Orcs and make a last stand at the fastness of Helm’s Deep. In Jackson’s film, King Theoden (Bernard Hill) leads his people to safety in Helm’s Deep. En route, they repel ambushing Uruk-hai mounted on Wargs that look more like overgrown hyenas than monstrous wolves. While Bernard Hill plays Theoden with Shakespearean gravity, Jackson’s characterization makes him a better tactician and leader in the movie than in the book.

In Tolkien’s novel, Aragorn has spent all his life preparing for the day he claims the crown of Gondor and Arnor. He does this to be worthy of the hand of Elrond’s daughter, Arwen. In Jackson’s film, Aragorn (Viggo Mortensen) has chosen exile yet finds himself thrust towards the throne to unite the world of Men against the forces of evil. He does this to buy time for Frodo’s quest. While Viggo Mortensen depicts Aragorn as a reluctant messiah, Jackson’s characterization makes him more selfless and noble than in the book.

In Tolkien’s novel, Frodo spares Gollum’s life and unties the cords that bind him. He does this out of pity and mercy for the wretched creature. In Jackson’s film, Frodo (Elijah Wood) befriends the ancient Hobbit as well and calls him Smeagol. He does this out of despairing hope: If the Stoor Hobbit can be saved from the torment of the Ring, then so can he, perhaps. While Elijah Wood portrays Frodo like a lamb on the way to the slaughter, Jackson’s characterization gives him more empathy and wisdom than in the book.

In Tolkien’s novel, Gollum is all but consumed by the corrupting will of the "Preciousss." There is only a fleeting moment when the submerged goodness of Smeagol flickers sadly on the surface. In Jackson’s film, Gollum (voiced by Andy Serkis) suffers from acute schizophrenia. There is only a brief period when Smeagol shakes off his evil-Gollum persona. While Andy Serkis voices the CGI character like a 500-year old cocaine addict, Jackson creates a better actor than some Academy-Award winners.

As the second act in a massive epic, Jackson’s Two Towers is a landmark in filmmaking history. As a film in itself, however, the movie is not beyond criticism.

In the book, King Theoden comes to his senses after Gandalf the White gives counsel; while in the movie, the King of Rohan regains his will in an act of exorcism. While inspired, this interpretation obscures the subtle hand Gandalf (Ian McKellen) plays in the affairs of Men. This also absolves Theoden from acts committed while under the influence of Saruman (Christopher Lee) and conceals the biases in the King’s character. This even begs the question whether the spy, Grima Wormtongue (Brad Dourif), was needed since Saruman already possessed Theoden.

In the book, a Ranger, a Dwarf, and an Elf stand fast alongside 300 Men of Rohan against 10,000 Wildmen, Uruk-hai, and Orcs. In the movie, the ranks of the Rohirrim are swelled with a phalanx of Elven archers. Purported to be beings of grace and power, these wooden warriors, unfortunately, bleed easily.

In the book, Aragorn refuses to surrender Andruil, the reforged shards of Narsil, to the Doorward of Theoden. In the movie, Aragorn hands his weapon without ceremony since the sword that cut the Ring off Sauron’s hand remains in Rivendell. This excision moves things along but lacks dramatic weight since the sword-that-was-broken underpins Aragorn’s claim to kingship.

In the book, Saruman kicks Wormtongue around like a dog that, in the end, bites the hand that feeds it; while in the movie, Saruman listens to Grima and even makes his minion privy to his plot. This takes away the sadistic streak in Saruman and makes Wormtongue less of a worm in the Wizard’s eye.

In the book, the Hobbits, Pippin and Merry, provide comedy relief while the Dwarf, Gimli, takes on the serious task of hewing Orc heads at Helm’s Deep. In the movie, Gimli (John Rhys-Davies) clowns around while Pippin (Billy Boyd) and Merry (Dominic Monaghan) take on the serious task of engineering the Last March of the Ents. In the bloodbath that follows, there is a jarring moment of comedy when the Dwarf uses a side door to circle around enemies attacking the main gate. To add insult to injury, Gimli rehashes unfunny Dwarf-tossing jokes.

In the book, the Ents war against Isengard and shepherd the Huorns, awakened trees that bear no love for axe-wielding Orcs. In the movie, the Ents opt to weather the stormclouds of war until their leader, Treebeard (voiced by John Rhys-Davies), shepherds Pippin and Merry to the edge of Fangorn Forest and discovers the treason of Isengard. As if they’ve never seen trees cut down, the Ents exhibit the intelligence of acorns instead of the wisdom of the oldest living things walking under the Sun in Middle-earth.

In the book, Faramir rejects the lure of the Ring and speeds Sam and Frodo on their quest; while in the movie, the brother of Boromir waylays the two Hobbits and brings his father a mighty weapon for the defense of Gondor. In this interpretation, the insidious black-and-white ethos of Hollywood creeps into Jackson’s work. Jackson attempts to counterpoint the heroism of the Hobbits at the expense of deconstructing Faramir’s character. While the Captain of the Rangers of Ithilien fails to show his true quality, the Ringbearer and his faithful servant are no more valiant for this failure.

Nit-picks aside, Jackson wields his camera with more skill than a Nazgul with the Ring in sight. Jackson’s camera swoops across breathtaking landscapes and locations that render anal games academic. His film weathers well with each viewing, and the images he conjures create an undeniable magic of their own:

Fall into a fiery battle between the Balrog and Gandalf beneath the bowels of Middle-earth.

Brave the passage of the marshes where dead faces stare back from dark waters and corpse-lights beckon to the Hobbits, Sam and Frodo, and their strange guide, Gollum.

Run many leagues with the three hunters—Aragorn, Legolas (Orlando Bloom), and Gimli—to save Pippin and Merry from the cruel Uruk-hai, tireless half-orcs that fear neither the Sun nor the spears of Men. Marvel at the woodcraft of the Ranger, Aragorn, as he reads the tale of two Hobbits fleeing into Fangorn Forest.

Gaze in wonder as the White Rider recounts how he smote his enemy to its ruin against the mountainside at the pinnacle of Zirak-Zigil.

Look in the Palantir, the seeing-stone in the Tower of Orthanc, through which Saruman perceives and obeys the will of Sauron in the Tower of Barad-dur; tremble in fear as a new power rises and an army of darkness hails their leader.

Anticipate a jaw-dropping moment when Legolas alights upon a war-horse into battle. Perhaps, it would have an even bigger treat to view the onslaught through his Elven sight and see as far as the eagle flies.

Mourn in silence as—in a sequence lifted from Tolkien’s footnotes—a black-veiled Arwen lays Aragorn to rest in the House of Kings in the Silent Street.

Abandon hope as whitebeards and children of Rohan arm themselves against the coming storm.

Float among the flotsam and jetsam as the fury of the Ents is unleashed like a torrent roaring down the mountainside.

Despair at the Morannon, the entrance into Mordor, as mighty Trolls close the Black Gate.

Wander in the desolate loveliness of Ithilien as the Hobbits break their fast and, between Smeagol and Sam, much is said of herbs and stewed rabbit. Watch with bated breath as the life of Smeagol stands on the edge of a bowstring while Frodo coaxes him from the Forbidden Pool of Henneth Anun beneath the Window on the West, the secret stronghold of the Rangers of Ithilien.

Stare stock still as the darkling wings of a Fell Beast ridden by a Nazgul engulfs Frodo on the stone-bridge of Osgiliath.

Ride with the Rohirrim as they charge downhill into the heart of darkness with the light of day rising behind them, glinting off their sharp spears and shining swords.

When all the nitpickers lie in their simbelmyne-covered graves, Peter Jackson’s The Two Towers will not merely endure but also prevail. Fans may cry fair and fans may cry foul, but Jackson has built it and people will come.

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