The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug

Maintaining Good Working Hobbits
or
A Dense Overlay of Smaug

The second of Peter Jackson's three "Hobbit" films, The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug is, predictably, more of the same.  It's a three hour ramble, a complication and a darkening of the tone of the first film—as usually happens with the second of a trilogy, so that we, the audience, can climb out of our emotional valley in time for the resolution of conflicts in the third.  Standard Operating Procedure.  We are given a quick recap of the first film—going back in time to when Gandalf the Gray (Ian McKellan) first put the idea into the head of Thorin Oakenshield (Richard Armitage) and getting the dwarf crusade rolling.  Once the summary is done (in brief: Gold, Mountain, Dragon, Dead King, Arkenstone, New King, No Elves Allowed), they skip over An Unexpected Journey and head back to the Gandalf, Bilbo and the dwarves on the path to Lonely Mountain (Sindarin Erebor), orcs still snapping at their behinds and making their way to the entrance of Mirkwood.

A quick visit to the skin-changer Beorn (Mikael Persbrandt), who usually appears in the form of a bear—not much is made of him, even though he got his own poster with Gandalf last time—and they get to Mirkwood (by pony), at which point Gandalf goes "walkabout"—he does this every movie and they probably split the story to accommodate a "Gandalf disappearance"—so the wee folk must enter the spooky forest alone, with a promise from the wizard that he'll meet them at "the Lookout."

"The Lookout"—he said he'd meet us; he should be easy to find...

Anyone familiar with the book knows that you don't find out where G.theG. goes until the last chapter, and that was after Tolkien had written "The Lord of the Rings" and got continuity-conscious.  But, here, we do get to see where (hint: he went there LAST movie), and Jackson's The Lord of the Rings gets set up all good and proper (except Benedict Cumberbatch is voicing the character now—wonder if Jackson will Lucasize everything to make it all match up).   The dwarves and hobbit are concerned with icky things and splendors that one would associate with a place called Mirkwood, and the ring that Bilbo snatched from Gollum is starting to exert its unholy influence turning the peaceful little guy into a berserker bad-ass.  Travel packages with unruly companions and nasty accommodations with large pests and diffident natives will do that to anyone.  But, Bilbo proves his worth on more than one occasion and eventually they do make it to the Halls of Lonely Mountain, a few shy of a full dwarve-deck and make their way to a meeting with the titular character that's been hoarding all the gold and keeping it for himself—the ultimate one percenter of Middle Earth.

Bilbo above the canopy of Mirkwood

Smaug is the dragon, living in the massive storage caves of the Mountain, and he spends his time, far from desolate, sleeping among the gold and treasures of the dwarves like a big scaled, fire-breathing Scrooge McDuck. When Bilbo's attempts to find the Arkenstone awaken him, there is quite an extensive cat-and-mouse game as the small hobbit scurries around the cumbersome dragon.  Or I should say Cumberbatch, as the ubiquitous actor provides a nicely arch resonant voice to Smaug, which is accompanied by a lip-curling animation to enhance it.  This is where the film shines, as the territory is new, the imagineering of the dragon is fresh, and the surprises are many.  After the previous two hours, that's a bit refreshing.

For if there's a problem with Peter Jackson's version of The Hobbit, it's that, by now, we are so familiar with the way he does things that nothing much really resonates anymore.  The heavily belabored ripostes by the actors seem a bit too predictable—when Bilbo changes his story to gandalf that he found his courage in the goblin caves last movie (rather than The Ring), there's a close-up of Gandalf as he says what half the audience is expecting: "You'll need it." Really, that one and "You should be" are certain candidates for Screenwriting 101 "easy irony" along with "You just don't get it, do you?" and "They're standing behind me, aren't they?"  

And the action sequences, this time assistant-directed by actor Andy Serkis. go on and on, in ever-increasing silliness.  If last movie set a more rollicking, silly tone than The Lord of the Rings (in part by the influence of Guillermo del Toro), now the joke's wearing a little thin.  Extended fights between orcs and elves are no longer thrilling, they're a demonstration of every possible way you can kill something with an arrow.  An extended rush down a rapids in barrels is accompanied by additional orc-elf fighting, where the barrels are used for any other purpose besides transport, as every tree-limb and branch over-hanging is used as a foot-hold.  Some of this criticism isn't fair, because if this had been the first film in a trilogy of Tolkien adaptations, the marvels of the film would send people off a CGI cliff in amazement.  It might take at least forty-five minutes to tumble down it, though.

One should, however, point out that the "we've been down this glade before" problem didn't occur with Jackson's earlier Tolkien trilogy, where there was enough material to keep things seeming fresh each film, and Jackson and his screenwriters did enough juggling of the narrative to keep things seeming new from film to film.  Their attempts here amount to trying to add a romantic element between the elf warrior Tauriel (Evangeline Lily) and the dwarf Kili (Aidan Turner), much to the consternation of Legolas (Orlando Bloom, back in action).  And while it provides a reprieve from tumbling and shooting and other too-frantic sequences, it does take away from the basic focus on the titular Bilbo Baggins (Martin Freeman) whose story this is.  Freeman's performance is, again, terrific, bringing all sorts of fretting elements to play, and making the transformation of his hobbit into a killer more than a little disturbing.

The vistas are staggeringly rendered, but some short-changing has been done with the characters in action sequences—Orlando Bloom seems to be the chief character robbed of some pixels, here and there, and the attempt to de-age him to a younger self doesn't really work (I've never seen it done convincingly, so far).  the only real surprises come in snatches of casting with Lee Pace, disappearing into the role of the elf Thronduil, Lily's elven warrior, and Stephen Fry's Master of Laketown.   Be on the lookout for some Laketown spies and you might even find Stephen Colbert for a brief second.  Oh, and Jackson gets his own "Hitchcock moment" out of the way very quickly.

Oh.  And SPOILER ALERT there's another movie coming, so this one ends at a rather inopportune time.  You only have to wait another year.

The Hobbit: the Desolation of Smaug is a Matinee.

"Conversations with Smaug" drawn by J.R.R. Tolkien

"Conversations with Smaug" drawn by WETA

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey

Getting to Be a Hobbit With Me
or
There and Back Again...and Again...And A-GAIN.

Peter Jackson returns to Tolkien's Middle-Earth, the scene of his greatest triumphs as a film-maker.  And it hasn't been easy for him.  "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy took the film industry by storm, changing all sorts of accepted things, like "sittable" film length, production timetables (filming three films simultaneously), elaboration of production design, and whether a "fantasy" film can ever be taken seriously by the Oscar Academy for anything other than technical awards.  In fact, when The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King won Best Picture a few years back, more than one gossip-monger (or as they're known, "industry press") suggested it was for the entire series of films, rather than for the merits of the final one.  I believe that.  So, pressure immediately started to bring Tolkien's "The Hobbit" to the screen in as much the same way as possible, with Jackson producing and Guillermo del Toro directing, a good choice, actually (and the film benefits from his bizarre creature designs).  

But, "The Hobbit"'s past caught up with it, and the several (animated) versions of it came into play over who owned the film rights, and so The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey has a complicated production titles sequence with Warner Brothers the (North American) distributor and New Line Cinema and M-G-M as the production facilities.  M-G-M's financial troubles (now long forgotten in the wake of Skyfall's nearly billion dollar take) caused del Toro to drop out, leaving Jackson and his orc-army of New Zealanders to once again handle the short-duties for the assembled hobbitage.

And how is it?  Much as you'd expect.  It's as if they'd never stopped production on the first series, and so sure of the continuity are they, that the moments immediately preceding the start of The Fellowship of the Ring are presented, as if it was the easiest thing in the world to do.  The film's been getting lukewarm reviews, and I can't can't quite fathom why. Nothing's really different.  The supporting cast is uniformly the same (there's no Viggo, but Frodo is briefly there, and Martin Freeman takes over the role of the younger Bilbo Baggins in a way that seems to suggest a more spry Ian Holm with much faster and more comedic reaction-sense), but the main criticism seems to be a more leisurely pace.  This, I don't mind.  Jackson has always regretted not showing more of Hobbiton, which might have given "The Lord of the Rings" more of a sense of "home," and as something worth fighting for—a theme played in spades in TH:AUJ.*

Seeing as so much of it is set in the Hobbit's land, and that the cast is dominated by a baker's dozen of knock-about dwarves (see below for a guide) that have a propensity for one-liners and malapropisms, the tone is considerably lighter and larkier (and dare I say "precious") than the Doom-laden "Rings" trilogy, and it is only once the band of adventurers get going that things change to the previous series' denatured color schemes, brooding skies, ugly thuggery and general bad-assery ensues.**  The pace may be slower, but the film is considerably richer for all of that, and with so many characters in this arc, it's rather a luxury to get to know them before they are threatened in all sorts of ghastly ways.

The other issue with this Tolkien adaptation is technological.  Films, since the frame-rate has been standardized, have traditionally been projected at twenty four frames per second, the estimated time that an image is retained by the eye.  Now that film is mostly passé, the video standard is 30 frames per second, but it's largely an arbitrary rate to match the traditional film experience.  During the late 70's, special effects wizard Douglas Trumbull offered up something he called "Showscan" which was 70mm film projected at 60 frames per second, which produced a larger, sharper image with less "streaking" of movement, due to the higher frame rate.  I saw one of these "Showscans" at the Vancouver World's Fair and the effect was like watching a richer, more beautiful version of videotape.  It was still film, with its photo-chemical reaction to light, but far more relatable to a "life-image" than film.

TH:AUJ is photographed digitally, but at a frame rate of 48 frames per second (what is being called HFR, or "Higher Frame Rate"), twice that of standard film, and in 3-D (to make what Jackson calls a more "immersive" film experience).  The effect, once one has adjusted to it, is quite magical.  Jackson doesn't try to do the 3-D tricks that Ang Lee does in Life of Pi, but the faster frame rate does improve the effect of things moving close by in 3-D; there is no longer the "stutter" effect, if something is moving by in the "near-field" at any rate of speed, which is something of a relief.  And given that Jackson employs even more helicopter shots over New Zealand terrain here than in the "Rings" trilogy (as well as parallel swooping "crane" shots during the many sequences underground), that's a big help.  Where it has its drawbacks are in some scenes that make the CGI characters look like toys figures, some of the impressive building constructs look like play-sets, and a slight mismatch of CGI (particularly during flying scenes) melded with terrain.

Still, it is hard to quibble when the image is so sharp, Jackson's color sense is eye-popping, and he still manages to keep a shimmering image through murky 3-D glasses.  It doesn't look like videotape (as so many reviewers seem to think), as the lighting is more graded and subtle, but the movement recalls a better videotape image, and even something moving fast still has a better chance of being registered by the naked, or glasses-hampered, eye.  It also allows the telling detail in even the CGI-est of images, like the moistness in Gollum's eyes, or the deep crags under Gandalf's.  It is oddly transporting, and given the care that everyone has put into it, it's a very rewarding experience.



The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey is a Full-Price Ticket (worth it in 3-D and HFR).

Wilhelm Scream Alert: at 02:05 and 02:35

Ya can't tell a dwarf from a halfling without a program.

* Thauj...sounds like a character name.

** Speaking of which, things have now approached and gone past the "Indiana Jones" threshold for physical believability here.  There's one particularly Rube Goldbergian sequence fighting trolls in an underground mine that strains credulity—but then, we're talking about a movie with dwarves, trolls, elves, ancient wizards, fire-breathing dragons, giant spiders, animated cliff-sides, and orcs riding big dogs.  That's enough to throw any griping fan-boys off their dyspepsia.  "Dude, this movie troll-kinged the bridge..."

Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day (Take Two)

Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day (Bharat Nalluri, 2008) A bon-bon.  A truffle.  A "ladies' pic" with just enough naughtiness to raise the blood pressure a little and maybe bring some color into the cheeks and the blue hair.  Done to a fine "fare-thee-well" and all, but at the heart of the confection is a little piece of grit that could chip a tooth if you're not careful—"careful" being the operative word here.

Miss Guinevere Pettigrew (Frances McDormand—what a treasure) has just been given the sack in the days before England is going to war with the Germans; the headlines are bold and the Wellingtons are flying eastward.  But Miss Pettigrew is without situation and penniless, cast adrift like the leaves scattering in the wind (which the Main Titles are animated to resemble).  She is desperate, so when she applies for another position and is roundly given the brush-off, she steals a business card and arrives unannounced at the residence of Miss Delysia Lafosse (Amy Adams)—nee Sarah Grubb "of the Pittsburgh Grubbs"—actress, semi-songstress, floozy and ditherer.

She couldn't have arrived at a better time.

Delysia is only dressed in a flimsy robe after entertaining a boy-producer (Tom Payne) in order to gain the lead in his new production, and she's doing so in the lavish love-nest of her boyfriend Nick (Mark Strong), who should be returning at any minute.  As should her other boyfriend, Michael (Lee Pace), who has just been released from prison after trying to nick a diamond for Delysia's engagement ring (the occurrence of which left Guinevere with only the clothes on her back—"small world").

It becomes immediately apparent that Miss LaFosse should not be acting but juggling and she needs a third hand to do so. 

And that's where Miss Pettigrew comes in, and quite literally.

Over the course of the day, everyone is in everyone's "business" if not in the very same room and the various conflicts conspire to creates "scenes" in glamorous settings and scandals if the back-biting and sniping become less passive and more aggressive.  The surface glitter, though, is shadowed by the twin horsemen of war and poverty and Pettigrew, who has known both, manages to be the voice of priority and reason, without completely throwing cold water on everybody's hot jazz.

It's a smart, funny screenplay, played well by an expert cast, even if the the direction gets a little swoopy and frenetic sometimes, and the music soundtrack is selected meticulously to given the film a rhythm and momentum that it desperately needs, even if some of the music chosen isn't precise to the period.

So, what's the "grit" that threatens to tarnish the gold that seems to permeate every one of Adams' costumes in this thing?  The unmistakable whiff of safety that wafts every so often.  That sentiment that everything will be alright, as long as "the right man" comes along.  Sure, the movie toys with "wrong" men, just as surely as Delysia does, but the flirting with "danger" is always casual, the consequences never showing themselves.  There are valid points that "love is not a game," and "you must not waste a second of this precious life," and particularly "there are times when decisions just have to be made, or you certainly will miss out."  All too true.

But, the insistence that all will be well with the subjectively agreed-upon "right" pairing between male and female?  Would it have been so sinful to have the ladies of the story be a little more independent as a solution as opposed to it seeming like a problem that needs to be cured?  As delightful as a movie may be, if those thoughts crop up, it has the tendency to spoil the party.

The Fall

"It's the Landing That Kills Ya"

The last film I saw from a film-maker based in India (Mira Nair's fine "The Namesake") has in it the line from Dostoevsky: "We all come out from Gogol's 'Overcoat.'"

Well, I'm beginning to think all motley-groups of adventurers with different skills that come in handy at particular junctures spring from "The Wizard Of Oz"-even the "Seven Samurai" and their progeny.

Think of it: Dorothy in her concussed fever-dream comes across familiars who all want, but seemingly don't possess, the very qualities that Dorothy finds wanting in an unfair world (and probably herself)--brains, heart and courage--only to tell herself in her unconsciousness that her guardians/charges/friends possessed them all along (as, she must conclude, did she). Only then, can she return to the harsh reality from which she escaped, emboldened by her new confidence, and new eyes to see her world anew as one of hope, rather than despair.

Now, here is Tersem Singh Dhandwar's (he's become mono-named ala Liberace and Prince to just "Tarsem") 2006 film (just making it now to theaters, after caroming through the international film festival circuit) of "The Fall," and it's a fascinating little de-construction of the "Wizard of Oz" template, and quite a successful "Tell me a Story" film in that same regard, as the fantasy within the film frames the reality that creates it.

It takes place in a Los Angeles hospital ("a long time ago" reads the caption to put the audience in the proper frame of mind), and a young immigrant girl, Alexandria, whose Indian family subsists on picking fruit, is in the hospital, recovering from a fractured left arm. Her condition and curious personality allow her the luxury of having the run of the place, and in her attempt to send a note to her favorite nurse, she crosses paths with a film-stuntman, recovering from a stunt/suicide attempt because his girl had been stolen by the film's leading man.
The two form a bond of need. She befriends him, and visits him daily for friendship and for the story that he weaves of a band of adventurers, each with their own distinctive skill-set, who, together and separately, are on a quest for revenge. He's still depressed, and uses the girl's visits and her hospital access for reasons that have nothing to do with friendship. It's a combination of high fantasy and high drama, which cannot exist together. The quest is fantastical and its melodrama (derived from silent movies) masks the very real pain of the story-teller while also reflecting it, as with "Oz." When the two collide it makes for the most uncomfortable part of the film, which goes on a bit too long, and shifts the film into cruelty, but it's only a slight misstep on the way to a satisfying denouement.

The narrative works well--so well that it is almost overwhelmed by Tarsem (who directed "The Cell" and some mind-blowing music-video's) and his spectacular visual sense, with locations cherry-picked from 17 countries (although one suspects most of those are in one dizzying 30-second sequence) accomplished over a couple of years, incredibly enough, without the aid of digital graphics--merely the hyper-imagination and design-sense of its director. But those images stay with you for days and linger, whether they are in the out-there fantasy realm, or the way Singh shoots the drab hospital environment--his unique eye never fails to enchant.

The performances are low-key, although one has to acknowledge the actress who plays Alexandria--five years old, and with English not her native language, she learned the dialogue phonetically, even though the performance seems, at times, to be made up on the spot. Credit Tarsem for the way that Cantica Untaru plays her scenes, but also the young actress, who is this film's Dorothy and for whom the audience's heart is lifted over the rainbow.

Fortunately,there are still some film-makers out there that can use the old tools of film-making in new ways to find some way of communicating beyond the photo-realistic, and create the feeling of "the new" and make you see with fresh eyes.

"The Fall" is a patchouli and Old-Spice scented Full-Price ticket.