(AKA The Land Before Pants)
The first thing you'll notice about this film is the music. The main title theme resembles nothing more than the bastard child of the theme from The Great Escape and the Rocky and Bullwinkle Show. They seem quite proud of it, however, as it is reorchestrated and played ad nauseum in several different encarnations and with several different tempos. As the overly serious and self-important music thunders forth, we get to see that at least these guys had enough sense and dignity to put good Professor Tolkien's name over the title, though if I were J.R.R. and were still alive, I'd have my name removed from the credits and hope that people would think that it was a film version of an entirely different Lord of the Rings. Henry Miller's The Lord of the Rings, perhaps. Or Bram Stoker's The Lord of the Rings. I could go on but I won't.
One of the biggest tragedies of this movie is that the screenplay was cowritten by Peter S. Beagle, one of the best and most imaginative voices in fantasy. In the end, even though there are serious pacing problems, it isn't the screenplay that's the problem. It's the overall cheap look and feel of the damned thing and the sense that somewhere poor Professor T is whirling in his grave like a roulette wheel.
So, on to the flick. Surprise! We open with narration against a live action backdrop filmed through a cheesecloth scrim and lit red. I guess this is to make it look old and legendary, but what it ends up looking like is a junior high play with fake rocks and bad costumes filmed through a red filter, but I guess they couldn't afford to do any real action sequences at this point, and could only imply that bigger things were happening. The battles, for example, show the silhouettes of three or four guys in horned helmets bashing each other with wooden swords, while Gollum's cave is a huge fake rock and a couple of fake stalacmites on what is obviously a bare wood floor.
The elven smiths, we are told, forged rings of power (or, as the brit-accented narrator intones in the narration, "Rrrrrrrrrings of Powah!" I'm wondering if this is the guy who used to do the Ruffles ads…). You know the deal. Nine for the men, seven for the dwarves, three for the elves. And, we're told, the evil Sauron learned the craft of ringmaking and forged "The Maastah Rrrring… One Rrrring to rrrrrule them all!"
So it looks as if all is lost for Middle Earth, but a last alliance of men and elves gathered to battle Sauron on the slopes of Mount Doom, yaddah, yaddah, yaddah. If you don't know the story by this time you have no business reading this damned review.
Anyway, Isuldur took ring, lost ring, was killed, ring lay at bottom of river, and so on. In the meantime Sauron controlled the nine rings of men and transformed them into the "Feahsom Rrrrringwrrrrraiths."
Then we cut to a combination of animation and live action to tell the story of Deagol and Smeagol and how S strangled D, stole ring, transformed into Gollum, yadda, yadda… Bilbo (a kid in a hooded Halloween Dracula cloak) finds the ring and is pursued by Gollum (in a clumsy costume with oversized hands and wispy hair).
Cut to Hobbiton ("Yuuuuhs lay-tuh" says the narrator, which I take to mean "Years Later…") on the occasion of Bilbo's 111th birthday. No buildup. No development of characters. None of the leisurely-paced introduction of Middle Earth that graced the story's later encarnations. No. We cut straight to Bilbo's birthday party, though we're cursorially introduced to Bilbo's nephew Frodo, and to the wizard Gandalf who are watching B's farewell speech.
I have to say that the hobbits are really scary looking. Kind of like evil garden gnomes. And there's a lot of them. This sequence, though it's choppy, is fully animated without the crude rotoscoping (yes, they explained that term to me… of course, before that they had to explain what the hell animation was in the first place, but I'm proud to say that I'm a quick study) that graces the later portions of the movie. Given the rumors of financial problems plaguing Bakshi's production, my guess is that he originally intended the entire movie to look like this, but was later forced to cut corners. In any event, the party scene is horribly short, but at least acceptable from an artistic standpoint.
Bilbo gives a highly abbreviated version of his farewell speech, slips on the ring, vanishes and reappears at Bag End, where Gandalf tells him to leave the ring behind (For a while, I was wondering whether Gandalf was actually the narrator, since he has the same "Rrrrrruffles have rrrrridges" delivery) "Have you left the rrrrrring for Frrrrrrodo?" he demands.
Bilbo refuses, calling the ring his "precious," then Gandalf gets all bitchy and threatening, scaring the poor hobbit so badly that he leaves the ring behind.
(And by the way, you may notice that damned Bullwinkle-Great Escape theme plays in the background of this scene, though at about 1/10 its normal tempo.)
The entire sequence, from the opening in Hobbiton to Bilbo's departure, takes a grand total of about two minutes. Gods. At this rate we'll be to Minas Tirith in a half hour and to Mount Doom before the first popcorn break. The pacing of this scene (which is easily 30 minutes or more long in the Jackson version of Fellowship) throws us into the story at breakneck pace, and makes later pacing decisions (such as the interminable scene at the Fords) extremely puzzling.
After Bilbo leaves, 17 years pass "sleepily" in the Shire. We know this because the filmmakers made the curious decision to show the Shire in spring, summer, fall and winter, then rapidly flash through the seasons like a slide show. At this point, epileptics in the theater will have to leave and Vietnam vets will start having flashbacks.
Gandalf shows up at Bag End after a 17-year absence, prompting young Frodo to do the happy dance (people dance a lot in this thing), and asks to see the ring. Not only does Frodo agree, he actually hands it to Gandalf! Holy crap! Did Gandalf ever touch the ring in the books? I don't think so. I may have to drop by earth again and pick up a copy. Livia wants something to read.
Another thing you'll notice about this movie is that everyone in it overreacts, responding to events with grossly exaggerated gestures and facial expressions. It's like watching someone mugging in an old silent movie, and my only guess as to why it happens is that Bakhshi told his actors to do it so that he could animate over them more easily. When they do, even in the relatively well-animated sequences, they don't look especially dramatic. Mostly they look silly.
And silly is what Frodo looks when the G-man tosses the ring into the fire. His eyes bug out, his mouth flies open like the escape door out of a goblin brothel during a raid by the purity squad, he grabs his head and makes incoherent sounds. One would normally think that poor Frodo is experiencing a seizure of some sort (I don't mean to keep making seizure jokes, really…), but all he's doing is objecting to his precious being tossed into the flames.
Well, we all pretty much know what happens next. Gandalf tells F that the ring is "altogether eeeeeeevillll." He then tosses the still-cool ring at Frodo and recites the infamous "One rrrring to rrrrule them all…" stanzas (honestly, I think the voice actors were paid by the "R"), while pirouetting around Frodo's living room as if he was trying out for a Bob Fosse musical. I'm not making this up. Really. And although Gandalf quotes the inscription from the ring, the infamous letters of fire never appear, and there's no implication that Gandalf is reading from anything at all. The only proof that this is the One Ring is that it didn't get hot in the fire. There's also no plausible explanation of how Gandalf suddenly figured out the ring's true nature and why he didn't do something about it 17 years ago.
Now we're suddenly outside, walking along sylvan paths in the moonlight while Frodo and Gandalf discuss the ring and how badly Sauron has the hots for it. Frodo offers Gandalf the ring, triggering more eye-bulging overacting as the wizard waves his hands and mugs silently. And so Frodo does what we all knew he would - he offers to take the ring away so that the enemy can't find it.
In the middle of all this Gandalf catches Sam Gamgee (whom we haven't met yet) hiding in the bushes. He claims he was eavesdropping, but I'll warrant he was actually punching the munchkin while fantasizing about Rosie. Sam's characterization leaves a bit to be desired. In simple terms, Sam is a moron. He's a blubbering, clumsy, half-witted oaf who has no business adventuring and is more likely to trip over his own feet than to save anyone or do anything competent. He's ugly, too - pudgy, infantile and gap-toothed with an irritating, ingratiating manner and an annoying voice. He reminds me of Udo the dwarf, actually, gods rest his moronic little soul…
Sam says he heard Gandalf talking about an enemy, a ring, and elves. Wait a second… Gandalf didn't say fuck all about elves! Was Sam listening in on another conversation somewhere else and just got confused? Or did he imagine the entire elf angle of the conversation?
Sam tells Frodo that he would like to see elves (okay, I've seen elves, and believe me, it is not worth the effort). Gandalf tells him that he shall, for he is to be Frodo's adventuring companion (be still my beating heart, I've got a mentally defective halfling as a boon companion…).
"Me, go see the elves, sir?" Sam babbles, squirming and twitching as if he has some kind of skin condition. "Oh, my! Oh, HURRAY!"
Gods, please. If I were Frodo I'd be seeking out the nearest branch of the assassin's guild and having Sam quietly disposed of, his body dumped off Bucklebury Ferry when no one was looking. But Frodo, well, he doesn't seem too swift either, and he seems perfectly happy to have this loser along on his life-or-death journey.
Gandalf tells Frodo to get ready, and departs to go consult with the chief of his order, the wizard Aruman.
ARUMAN???
Who in the name of all that is holy is Aruman??? I admit to having read these books at least a couple of times (I brought a copy along on my last trip to Kaitia, but I admit that I only skimmed it in between pirate attacks) and I don't remember anyone by that name in the story.
Well, there was another wizard… Lessee… What was his name again?
Oh yeah - SARUMAN! Saruman with an "S" you idiots! His name is fucking SARUMAN!
Sorry. I lost it for a second. Give me a minute to get back my train of thought.
So Gandalf rides hell for leather to Orthanc, where Saruman the White awaits him. Wait a sec… Wasn't he going to see Aruman?
Oh, to hell with it. Yes, they spend half their time in this movie calling the white wizard Aruman. Why? I haven't a clue. Maybe they were afraid people would confuse Saruman with Sauron. After all, they both begin with "S" and end with "N." Better alert Neil Gaiman in case he has to go back and change the name of his old comics to "Andman," because people are confusing it with "Superman." Or maybe, it should be "Uperman."
Never mind. Back to the pain.
Saruman is no prize. He's got big 80s white hair that blends seamlessly into his oversized Santa beard and wears a smart red smoking jacket (funny outfit for a guy called "Saruman the White," huh? Well, maybe it was a racial thing). He also has very nicely-manicured fingernails. Gandalf tells him that they have to fight Sauron, but as we all know Saruman has decided to bet on the wrong horse and tells Gandalf to join him and take the ring for themselves.
"Would you rather Sauron had it," he demands, "or SARUMAN OF MANY COLORS?????" (I swear you can actually hear all the extra question marks). He flings open his robes (ewwwww!) and some bad visual FX emerge, causing Gandalf great distress. He grabs a massive telephone-pole sized staff and uses his magic to imprison Gandalf, then hobbles off cackling while Gandalf shouts, "Khaaaaaannnn!!!!!"
No, actually he shouts "SARUMAAAAAAN!" but it pretty much adds up to the same thing.
Back to the hobbits. Frodo and Sam have been joined by two more characters we've never met, Merry and Pippin, and the jolly foursome prances down the road, twirling prettily, singing and playing a mandolin. No. I'm not making this up.
Now we hear the theme song again, this time with a sprightly march tempo. We're only a half hour into the movie and already we've heard three or four different versions of the main title music. Don't despair, though - there's lots more to come.
The first brush with the black rider follows. Well, in this case he's more of a beige rider, since his cloak isn't anything resembling black. The hobbits hide, the black rider snuffles around, dismounts, limps along melodramatically, makes yawning noises that are supposed to be scary, then leaves. Frodo is tempted to use the ring, but doesn't. *Whew* That was a close one, wasn't it?
(To give the devil his due, I have to admit that this scene looks almost identical to the one that Peter Jackson filmed a couple of decades later. I figured I'd at least mention that.)
On to the picturesque settlement of Bree and the Inn of the Prancing Pony, where the animation really starts to deteriorate. The patrons are all obviously extras in costumes filmed conventionally then tweaked with to make them look animated. The Prancing Pony is supposed to host a lot of halflings, but in this scene they're very obviously human little people who bear no resemblance whatsoever to the pudgy Shirefolk. The humans are just as bad. Their movements are, as usual, about as subtle as a kindergarten pageant, and their costumes are strictly Renaissance Festival level. Unfortunately the costuming and the animation both get progressively worse from here on.
Butterbur the Innkeeper uses peer pressure and shame to get Frodo (who's calling himself Mister Underhill) to sing a Shire song, which is about as unfair as those Happy Birthday productions that they put on at chain restaurants for embarrassed 12-year-olds. Frodo unfortunately agrees and utterly humiliates himself, doing a table dance while outside Merry runs into some black riders who knock him out (he is regrettably not dead, but will survive to annoy the hell out of us for the rest of the movie). The singing and dancing action gets so hot and heavy that Frodo falls off the table, his ring slips onto his finger ("Oops! How did THAT happen?") which freaks everyone out, forcing the hobbits to retreat to their room.
There, they meet none other than Strider, aka Aragorn, son of Arathorn, ranger and rightful heir to the throne of Gondor, last descendant of the mighty Isuldur.
Well, in this case, he talks like John Hurt, looks like the Last of the Mohicans, and doesn't wear pants. In fact, many of the male characters don't wear pants. Legolas and Boromir are the most alarming examples, but you gotta admit that Aragorn's Numenor-style sleevless tunic, oversized belt, mini-skirt and go-go boots are pretty disturbing as well. Evidently pants are a sign of a highly advanced culture, and the Gondorians haven't invented them yet.
Then Merry shows up, regrettably alive, and Aragorn tells the hobbits that they will have to accompany him to Weathertop the next day. They pack it in for a snooze, but the black riders show up, blowing open the gates of Bree and raiding the hobbit's crash space. Fortunately Aragorn moved the hobbits to the root cellar and the black riders are foiled. They aren't terribly happy about it, but it's all part of the life of a Nazgul - pain, frustration and humiliation.
And now, while the hobbits sleep and Aragorn looks all noble and worried, we hear the title theme AGAIN, this time with strings and a lazy, "Sleeping in the cellar while the black riders trash our rooms" tempo. Wow. Another variation on the theme song. What will they think of next?
The next day Aragorn leads the hobbits through the marshes, and when they make camp at Weathertop, he tells them the story of Beren and Luthien. Beren, he tells them, was Luthien's doom, but he was her love as well. At this point we have the first of many touching homoerotic moments, as Frodo and Sam gaze lovingly into each other's eyes and look for all the world that they're about to put each other in a liplock and start exploring alternative lifestyles right there by the campfire.
This almost-intimate moment is interrupted by a beige rider attack. This time there's more of them, and they're wearing helmets instead of those inconvenient cloaks, but they're just as beige. Well, we all know what happens next. Frodo puts on the ring and gets stabbed with a Morgul-knife, forcing the companions to race toward Rivendell to try to save him.
Fortunately for the companions, they run into Legolas the elf, who has been sent to try and find Frodo.
A word or two about Legolas. Now, I'm not one of those people who believes all elves are gay. And even if they are, who cares? I'm a major supporter of an individual's right to live and love as he chooses. I guess I'd better be, given that most of my friends are pervs of various sorts, and damned proud of it they are. And I've known a goodly number of gay elves. Let's face it, you live for thousands of years, you're bound to get bored with the usual in-and-out, and want to expand your horizons. Elves are just like us. Only more annoying and arrogant. But to stereotype them and claim that as a race they're more or less gay than humans is unfair.
That said, it's so freakin' obvious that Legolas is gay that it isn't funny. He dresses in a flouncy white shirt and flowing cloak, white tights and cute elf-boots. His hair is majorly feathered, and his bow has very attractive curlicued accents at either end (of course, the curlicues disappear from scene to scene, so that may not be definite). His voice is provided by the same guy that did the gay robot character in Star Wars. Every movement, gesture and word exudes massive flames. It's as obvious as the nose on Sam's face, Bakshi's Legolas is as gay as a three-crown goldpiece.
And so, accompanied by their new gay elf-friend, the companions ride to the fords, gateway to Rivendell, and to incredible savings. The beige riders show up at this point, however, and spoil everyone's fun, pursuing Frodo as he rides Legolas' horse toward the fords.
Better Legolas One?What follows is easily the most tedious sequence in the entire movie, in which Frodo wanders back and forth, the beige riders call to him, he tries to run, they come after him, he rides back, they ride back, the horses snort, ride in circles, paw the ground, the beige riders stand around, trot their horses backwards, Frodo's horse trots sideways, the beige riders call to him, he gallops forward, the black riders' horses neigh and snort, Frodo rides in slow motion, the black riders make threatening gestures, Frodo's horse falls down, Frodo's horse gets up again, more black riders gallop up, the horses snort and whinny, dust flies up, Frodo gets back on his horse, the black riders spout green smoke, lightning flashes, clouds swirl, Frodo draws his sword, the horses snort and whinny, Frodo rides for the ford, the beige riders ride after him, Frodo rides back and forth, the riders ride back and forth, Frodo rides across the ford, more lightning flashes, the main title theme plays again urgently, Frodo smacks into a couple of beige riders, the riders say "The ring! The ring! Come back! To Mordor we will take you!", Frodo says "By all the Shire, you shall have neither the ring nor me!", waves his sword, almost falls off his horse, the beige riders ride into the river, the river rises, turns into white horses, and washes the beige riders away.
This sequence lasts for about five full minutes (though it seems like hours) - that is to say more than twice the length of the birthday party sequence! Once more, bad pacing rears its ugly head, leaving us convinced that we're not really watching a movie… we're actually in hell.
Frodo wakes up in Rivendell, where Gandalf (remember him?) kicks him out of bed and tells him that Elrond healed him, and was responsible for the flood that carried off the riders. Now, Gandalf gives us a flashback to his confrontation with Aruman/Saruman, telling Frodo that he was rescued by a big friendly bird. Yeah, right. All the giant eagles I've met have been stuck up pricks who wouldn't carry me out of danger for all the dead mice in the White Emperor's palace.
Frodo meets Bilbo, who's been staying at Rivendell for the past decade, eating all their food and annoying the elves with his bad poetry. Being raised in the British tradition, the elves haven't yet gotten around to telling Bilbo that he's about as welcome as a case of the clap, and so he's still there. He asks to see the ring one more time. This is a bad idea, but Frodo is still pretty clueless and obliges, which leads to another mugging scene in which Bilbo crosses his eyes, waves his hands around, grunts and grimaces. If I hadn't already drawn from that well already I'd make some joke about Bilbo having some kind of fit, but instead I'll just note that he looks like a complete idiot, rather than a desperate victim of obsession, lusting after the power of the ring.
While Bilbo blubbers melodramatically, the Council of Elrond begins. Here, we meet the other elves (just as fey as Legolas… Hmmm… I wonder…) and the world's tallest dwarves (rivaling only the dwarf hero from the Dungeons and Dragons movie for sheer size), both of whom tell of their troubles with Sauron. Now, forgive me here, but I personally think that if the elves and dwarves sat down at the same council table and actually talked about anything in a civil fashion, it would indeed be a dire sign that the world was about to end. The elves would sniff and look snooty, the dwarves would get drunk and eventually there would be a brawl with hurt feelings and broken heads on both sides. Wars have started over less, believe you me.
We also meet Boromir, son of the Steward of Gondor. Apparently the Gondoreans are some offshoot of the norse race, because Boromir is wearing a furry vest, horned helmet, mini skirt and once more, no pants. He actually looks a lot like Gimli the dwarf; good thing he dies early, or I'd have gotten very confused.
We're then treated to some more narration which brings us up to date on Aragorn's true heritage, after which Frodo shows off the ring to the assembled free folks. Elrond, who doesn't really look all that elvish, comes up with the idea of tossing the ring into the fires of Mount Doom. Quickly enough, the decision is made - come on, you know what was going to happen - and Frodo sets off equipped with Bilbo's old magic sword (Sting - short sword +3; user can detect enemies at will) and his mithril shirt (elven mail of heavy fortification +5).
The animation again takes a tumble as the Fellowship sets out - once more, they look like actors who were dressed in cheesy costumes, filmed live and then minorly manipulated with hand coloring and some photo processing to look vaguely animated.
Frustrated by the badass Mount Caradras, the fellowship stops to regroup. Aragorn suggests going to the Gap of Rohan (others I know would have suggested the Hot Topic of Rohan, yuk, yuk, yuk), but Gandalf says that that route would take them too close to "Aruman."
There's that "Aruman" guy again. Who the hell is he?
So they all pack up and head for the Mines of Moria. Unfortunately the gates are locked and Gandalf spends a few hours bellowing at them in various obscure Middle Earthian dialects. There's a shot of Legolas and Gimli sitting together on a rock, and upon close inspection you will see that they are both almost exactly the same height. So much for the diminutive dwarves. I guess they've been growing bigger over the years. The last one I met came about to the middle of my chest, all the better to try and cut my heart out with his axe.
Gandalf finally figures out the old "Speak friend and enter" puzzle and the Fellowship is about to enter when the Watcher in the Water, a multi-tentacled nasty, attacks. The Watcher isn't really all that scary, since for the most part all it does is stick its tentacles out of the water and wave them around, with only one grabbing poor Frodo by the ankle. The Fellowship sacrifices their unfortunate pony in order to buy time to escape, and it's off to the Mines of Moria we go.
As we keep cutting between real animated characters and those fake colorized Renfaire guys, we can consider the makeup of the adventuring party.
Its kind of heavy with warrior types, with Boromir and Gimli as straight fighters, and Aragorn in the ranger category. Legolas seems more fighter than ranger to me, though he can shoot a bow pretty well. Gandalf is the sole spellcaster, and the hobbits are for the most part NPC classes - probably Commoners, with maybe a level or two of Expert or Warrior thrown in. Dead weight, really - these are the guys who were the porters and scroll caddies during my dungeon-delving days, believe me.
I'm somewhat puzzled that they didn't take a cleric-type, since they were likely to face combat and needed healing spells, but I guess beggars can't be choosers.
So the Fellowship wanders around in Moria for a while, shifting between two animation styles, seemingly at random. Eventually they find Balin's tomb, discover that all the dwarves got scragged by orcs - Gandalf reads from the dwarf book with his usual melodramatic flare, waving his hands and making faces until at last the orcs - weary of his overacting - attack the party.
And on come the orcs, and what a sad assemblage they are. If I were dark lord I would be embarrassed to show my eye… They are rotoscoped extras in togas, horned helmets and what are probably papier-mâché orc masks, with red eyes and white fangs dabbed on in post production. They look as if they are in an entirely different movie from the rest of the more cartoon-like characters - once more the multiple animation styles has dropped a 16-ton weight on our suspension of disbelief.
There's the cave troll, too, but we only see its arm and leg pushing through the door but Frodo stabs it and it runs away (yes, I know that's how it was in the book, but come on… this is a movie fercryinoutloud… we want to see the freakin' troll!). The fights between the Fellowship and the orcs continue to lack any real drama since the characters simply don't mesh very well. One moment, we see the Fellowship fleeing as rotoscoped Renfaire characters, the next we see them as more artistic cartoon-type characters, then we see the orcs chasing after like extras in a Keystone Kops silent. The orcs are uniformly olive drab in color and have been so overprocessed that they have no detail or individuality. A couple look as if they're covered with long hair ala Cousin It, and are even sillier looking than their fellows. Simply put, the orcs all look like a bunch of monochromatic extras in bad costumes. Which I suppose they are.
Aragorn holds the orcs off for a few moments, then the great throng of maybe 15 or 20 orcs parts to allow the advance of the silliest movie monster in history - the fearsome Balrog, ancient demon of Morgoth.
The Balrog. What can I say about the Balrog? It's got an oversized lion's head and butterfly wings. It has massive, clumsy feet that look like novelty bedroom slippers. It holds a whip but doesn't really do anything with it. Worst of all, it's only a foot or two taller than Gandalf. Again, all they did was dress an extra in a really bad costume and rotoscope him. I assume they added some visual effects like the colors on the butterfly wings, the glowing yellow eyes and the nasty teeth, but he still looks exactly like what he is - a guy in a costume that would be an embarrassment at a furry convention.
I was always surprised that the Balrog in the novel didn't fly, even though it had wings (or had shadows "like wings" - believe me, I am NOT getting into that debate right now). Well, this one flies a short distance, then to our surprise, actually lands in front of Gandalf, instead of bypassing him to waste the fleeing Fellowship. Well, I guess Gandalf was a bigger challenge. The rest of the Fellowship would probably have lasted about .05 seconds before becoming Balrog chow, so it must have wanted to get the tough opponent out of the way first.
Things don't go well for the Balrog, or for Gandalf. The wizard makes a few pronouncements about being the servant of the secret fire (back home, the "Secret Fire" is a Red Temple brothel hidden underneath a Kyborist temple in Godshome, but that's another story), then breaks the bridge beneath their feet (they never do call it the Bridge at Khazad Dum, another woeful omission) and, despite the fact that not ten seconds ago it proved that the wings weren't just ornaments, the Balrog falls into the chasm. Damn. Must have forgotten it could fly.
The Balrog isn't willing to go down quite so easily, however, so it grabs Gandalf with its whip (it finally uses the damned thing) and drags him down as well. Exit Gandalf. For a while, anyway.
The surviving Fellowship flees, ending up with a very quick transition in the woodland realm of Lothlorian, meeting with Queen Galadriel and King Celeborn, both of whom look as if they're ready to step out for a night at Studio 54 (yes, I know all about disco, too… my damned creator made me watch Saturday Night Fever, as well as Lambada: The Forbidden Dance. I still haven't forgiven him). Galadriel has eyes that are almost anime size, and wears way too much mascara. Sam, being the idiot that he is, tries to bow, then goes through a clumsy "Aw shucks, ma'am" routine that is probably supposed to be cute and endearing.
While the Fellowship engages in some R&R, the elves of Lothlorien sing a lament for Gandalf, and they sound (unfortunately) like children singing Christmas carols; perhaps this is an attempt to capture the otherworldliness of elvish singing, but as with most brave attempts in this movie, it falls flat. I haven't heard too much elvish singing myself - their epic songs tend to last for days. I know a few drinking songs which are mostly about killing orcs and having sex with dwarf women, but the elves don't like me to repeat them.
There follows a montage of events in Lothlorien, with the characters relaxing, sparring, tusseling in a somewhat suggestive fashion, and Legolas teaching Gimli how to use an elven longbow (crap! No elf I know would ever let his precious bow be profaned by the touch of a filthy dwarf; Legolas is a heluva lot more enlightened than I thought… maybe being gay he's more tolerant of others…)
Now Sam and Frodo are bidden to gaze into the Mirror of Galadriel, which supposedly gives glimpses of the future. Sam sees the Shire going to hell in his absence (no one's trimming the ivy so it's probably taken over the entire settlement), while Frodo sees a cheap kaleidoscope effect. I guess this worries him, because Galadriel comforts him, and then reveals that she is wearing one of the three elven rings of power. It apparently has the power to generate tacky-looking visual FX, and seeing how impressive they are, Frodo then offers Galadriel the One Ring.
While Galadriel gives her speech about becoming a queen, beautiful and terrible, loved by all (very typical elf, might I add), the mirror keeps cycling through its kaleidoscope visuals sort of like a '60s acid rock light show. She doesn't seem terribly tempted or concerned, and lightly rejects the ring, saying that she has passed the test and will remain Galadriel.
(I've often wondered what would have happened if she'd taken it. She's a damnsight cuter than Sauron - I'll pick a gorgeous elf-babe as evil queen over a disembodied floating eye any day.)
The party leaves Lothlorien, taking elven boats south down the River Anduin. After passing the surprisingly unimpressive Argonath, the Fellowship stops at the Falls of Rauros to decide whether to go to Gondor or Mordor, and I guess we all know what comes next.
While he's off brooding, Frodo is confronted by Boromir, who urges him to take the ring to Minas Tirith. Again, I notice that Boromir, prince of one of the most advanced civilizations in Middle Earth, still hasn't found a pair of pants. I admit that he may be wearing furry hotpants, but it's more likely a skirt. Frodo, from the relatively primitive Shire, has a very smart pair of trousers.
Boromir tries to steal the ring, but Frodo slips it on and vanishes. Boromir quickly repents and cries out for Frodo to return, but there are some things that you simply can't make up for. Telling your spouse that you never enjoyed sex with her. Raising the dead. Shooting a cop. Voting Republican. Trying to seize the One Ring. No, Boromir's blown it big time.
Now that Frodo's buggered off, Aragorn commits the ultimate sin - he splits up the party, sending them off to find the missing ringbearer. Sam, in a rare flash of insight, decides that Frodo's taken a boat and is going off on his own. He leaps into the water, and instead of letting the pathetic creature drown, Frodo helps him and takes him along, swearing to take the ring to Mordor by himself.
Frodo, gods help him, says that he's glad. I still don't get what he sees in Sam.
And so, the boat slowly rows off into the mist, carrying its passengers to an uncertain destination. And now, the first volume of the Lord of the Rings draws to a close, we roll credits, and…
Wait. No. The movie is still going on. It's supposed to end there, dammit! No, please. Don't let it go on any further…
Aw, crap.
*sigh* Back to the film.
Searching for Frodo and not knowing that he's scarpered, Merry and Pippin (literally) run smack into a pack of toga- and horned helm-wearing, badly animated uruk-hai. The orcs outnumber the hobbits by about 10-to-1 and the hobbits probably don't have any Fighter levels, but the baddies are still unable to capture them, instead accidentally smacking each other, letting the hobbits run under their legs, scramble out of the way, etc. Saruman plans to conquer Middle Earth with these guys? I don't think so…
While if the hobbits had just continued to dodge out of the way, the uruks would have ended up killing each other and let them escape, Boromir shows up to hasten the ururks' demise somewhat.
Boromir fights bravely but gets feathered and the hobbits get captured. Aragorn shows up a day late and a dollar short, and Boromir tells him that the hobs are in orcish hands. He apologizes profusely for screwing everything up, and hopes that Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli can undo the mess that he's made of everything. Then he dies, they put him in a boat, and go off in pursuit of the orcs.
There follows a rather long and somewhat disturbing slo-mo sequence of the three companions running, running, running. Sometimes they're running as regular cartoon characters, sometimes they're grainy rotoscopes. And in one sequence, which for the life of me I cannot understand why they left in the film, Aragorn son of Arathorn, last of the line of Numenor, descendant of Isildur, true king of Gondor, actually trips on his scabbard and falls down.
Phaedra's tits, not only is this guy supposed to be a hero, this is also a movie, and an animated one at that! Heroes are not supposed to trip on their scabbards!
While our heroes are busy tripping over their weapons and running in slow-motion, Merry and Pippin are carried along by the uruk-hai, toward Saruman and their fearsome fate. Some of the orcs have changed. Instead of wearing togas and horned Viking helmets, they're wrapped in sheets and wearing gorilla masks. And some of them just look like guys in black body suits. I'm not making this up. Evidently, the budget did not include equipping more than ten or so extras with horned Viking helmets. The rest had to be equipped at Bed, Bath and Beyond. And yes, they're still all a uniform kind of greenish-grey with fake fangs and eyes painted on in postproduction.
And we also hear that damned theme song again, this time with an incessant marching beat behind it. Damn, that's one versatile piece of music.
The orcs then have some kind of an argument which I couldn't follow, since they bellow at each other in orcish, and my orcish is very rusty (it's really an interesting language, actually - I believe orcish has no word for "elbow," but nearly 1,000 words for "doorknob"). It sounds as if all this was generated by having the voice actors growl and grunt gibberish at each other while they watched the rotoscopes of the orc extras. In any event, we have no idea what the orcs are so upset about, so we just let them argue and hope it ends well.
While the two lead orcs argue, the orcs in the background wave their arms and sway back and forth in a manner that suggests that maybe 2 seconds of film are being looped over and over and over again. In the end, it looks downright artistic, like some kind of orcish modern dance production.
Hot on the orcs' heels, Aragorn finds a Lorien brooch dropped by one of the hobbits, that looks like some kind of sandwich cookie. Convinced they're on the right track, they keep running. And, presumably, tripping.
The orcs have made it into Rohan, which proves their undoing, since the Rohirrim horsemen quickly give chase. The number of horned Viking helmet orcs has declined even more, and now about 80 percent of the uruk party are guys in sheets and gorilla masks. A couple of helmet-wearers fall to Rohirrim arrows, leaving even fewer of the less-dorky looking orcs to carry on the fight.
In the middle of the running skirmish between orcs and horse we cut to Sam and Frodo lost in the wilderness. Sam has lost none of his doughy, gap-toothed charm, and to his credit Frodo has not pushed him off a cliff yet.
Worse things are to come, for Gollum finally shows up, following the pair, muttering about his precious. In comparison to the other characters in the film, Gollum doesn't look too bad - he's a grayish, emaciated gobliny creature with a slimy, smarmy manner and a sly expression. Kind of like a Kyborist bishop on tithe day. I do note that his scrap of a loincloth is exactly the same color as his skin, but what that means I don't know. Nor do I want to.
The hobbits jump Gollum and after a somewhat-less-than-fearsome struggle, they capture him and force him to guide them out of the wilderness. The whole thing has a pretty bizarre bdsm angle to it, especially since part of their compulsion involves tying Gollum up with elven rope. Oh well, there's so many strange subtexts to this movie that there really isn't any point in counting them anymore.
Back in Rohan, the uruk party is in trouble, surrounded by the Rohirrim - blonde male models on horses. The orcs shoot, but don't do much good. The steadily deteriorating budget of the movie shows even more here, as in one scene most of the orcs (the ones in sheets with gorilla masks) stand completely motionless in the foreground, while the orcs to one side of the picture actually move. This technique is used in a lot of the battle scenes, in fact, with only one or two figures moving while the remainder of the battle line stands stock still like paintings. Attempts to save on animation costs continue to plague the film and only get worse as time goes one.
There now follows one of the more disturbing scenes in the film, though surely not in the manner that Bakshi wanted. Grishnak, leader of the Mordor contingent of the raiding party (mind you, he looks exactly like all the other toga-and-helmet orcs, so the only way we can distinguish him from the others is because they address him by name) hustles up to the bound Merry and Pippin, muttering about how the whiteskins mustn't be allowed to get "it." I presume he means the ring, but gods only know what he's really talking about. Knowing orcs the way I do, it could mean anything from a bent spoon to… Well, to activities that are best not thought of, let alone discussed.Grishnak starts pawing at the two hobbits in a very suggestive manner, prompting Pippin to say in a throaty, seductive voice, "You're not going to get it that way." When the orc asks what he's talking about, Pippin replies, "Nothing, My Precious."
No I don't know about you, but that line made the hairs on the back of my head rise. But it was nothing compared to Merry's next line, as the orc continues to paw at them.
"It's no good groping in the dark… Ugluk will be back any second. Nothing for Mordor. Nothing for pooooooor Grishnak." He manages to look even more seductive than Pippin and says, "Gollum. Untie us, my precious."
Oh, gods. I'm really beginning to wonder if The Lord of the Rings is about to wander down the Fritz the Cat path when all the groping and flirting in the dark is thankfully interrupted by a Rohirrim, who shoots Grishnak with an arrow, saving us from having to see where the scene was obviously going.
(The theme song plays in the background, now for some reason played on strings with a sprightly, mischievous tempo.)
Finally sick of standing at a distance and letting the orcs flip them off, the Rohirrim charge and wipe out the guys in sheets and gorilla masks, while Merry and Pippin slip their bonds and escape into the nearby woods. There they meet Treebeard the ent, who is almost as ridiculous looking as the Balrog, but here they don't even have the excuse of it being a rotoscoped guy in a suit. Treebeard is entirely animated, and looks kind of like a walking potato, having gone to seed for a decade or two, taken up drinking and eating all his meals at In-n-Out Burger.
Treebeard makes introductions, carries the two hobbits into the forest, and that is, thankfully, the last we see of those two. Since the movie does not encompass the entirety of the trilogy, and the second film was never made, we can imagine that once he got them deep into Fangorn, Treebeard killed both of them and used their bodies as fertilizer for huorns or something.
Some hours behind the two ent-victims comes Aragorn and wonder twins Legolas and Gimli. They find some ent-spoor, and while trying to figure out what it is, a figure lurches out of the trees nearby, clad in white robes, with a grey blanket thrown over its head. He moves uncertainly, probably because he can't see jack through the blanket, but they get worried anyway.
No wonder the entwives left."Your bow, Legolas!" Gimli exclaims. "It's Aruman!"
Personally, I'd have said it was Saruman, but maybe Gimli knows better (you wouldn't know from his clothes, because Saruman "the White" never actually wears white throughout the film).
The trio is about to gut the intruder when he makes a wild gesture (the blanket still conceals his head, so gods only know how he aimed the spell) and all their weapons burst into flames. The figure leaps onto a rock and twirls around prettily, making it obvious who he really is - Saruman was never given to such exuberant mannerisms, so it must be Gandalf.
Jeez. Gandalf. Wow. We've spent the last 15-20 minutes thinking he was dead, and now he's returned. Our hearts soar and our spirits are lifted. Only to be as suddenly crushed, because now that he's Gandalf the White he's even more boring and pretentious than he was before. His return was probably good news for the film's dwindling budget, however, for being white they didn't have to use any expensive inks to color his robes, and since he takes up about 1/3 of the screen, that undoubtedly represents a significant savings.
In flashback, Gandalf tells of his fight with the Balrog. It's portrayed as a series of still images, and in those the Balrog actually looks pretty cool. Among other things, it's about 3 times larger than the lion-headed, butterfly-winged thing they encountered in the mines, and the actions shown in the still images are far more exciting and compelling than any fight scenes that have been shown so far. Maybe they should have done the whole movie that way.
In another blindingly quick transition, we go from Fangorn to Edoras, where King Theoden (another guy with a gigantic white beard and long silky white locks) is in the thrall of his slimy counselor Grima Wormtongue, who is of course an agent of Aruman. Sorry, I mean Saruman.
Now, you wonder what Theoden sees in this guy. He's about three feet tall, with a ratty little face and a little tiny moustache. He oozes oily insincerity from every bodily orifice, he dresses all in black, and his name is Wormtongue fer cryin' out loud!
I for one would never trust an advisor named Wormtongue. I'd know something was wrong from the get go. Kind of like walking into the throne room and having the king say something like, "And this is Sir Evilguy, the bravest and most loyal of my knights" while Evilguy twirls his moustache, chuckles wickedly and pours liquid from a bottle marked "Poison" into the king's royal goblet.
Grima, yeah. Not a very pleasant name, but not as bad as Wormtongue. Don't do it, your majesty! He's evil! Just check out his name!!!
As Gandalf provides voiceover, we see Wormtongue caring for the king, gently sitting him at his throne, then snuggling up into his white beard and stroking his face. Dammit, if he starts nibbling Theoden's ear, I'm turning this fucking thing off, I don't care if it's got another half hour to run!
Thankfully there's no more gentle loveplay between Grima and the king, and we cut to Eomer the king's nephew, cutting down Saruman's orcs in defiance of Wormtongue's decrees, and to Saru/Aruman exhorting his gorilla mask-and-sheet wearing legions to move against Rohan.
Gandalf and the companions show up at Edoras, persuade Theoden to give Wormtongue the bum's rush, Gandalf heals Theoden of his melancholy (I think that pharmaceuticals may be involved, but I'm not completely certain), and we get only a couple of fleeting glimpses of the heroic Eowyn, who in later episodes was going to be such a kickass Nazgul-slayer (she looks pretty awful, by the way, yet another reason to be thankful that the second film was never made).
(And yes, Saruman is referred to as "Aruman" throughout this entire scene, until the last line in which Gandalf tells Theoden that he cannot wait in Edoras for "Saruman's attack.")
Now we see scenes of riders by the… well, by the dozen… riding for Helm's deep while a toy horn plays "dee-dee-deeeee-deedly-deeeeee" in the background. At least it's better than yet another variation on the Rocky and Bullwinkle theme.Then we're back to Frodo and the detestable Samwise, sleeping in the marshes. Upset that Gollum seems to have buggered off somewhere, Sam does the potty dance and bites his cloak, all the while whining and carping to Frodo (no, I'm not making this up). Gollum shows up at length and shows the hobbits through the Dead Marshes, where they glimpse our one and only shot of a Nazgul riding on a fell beast. Actually, it looks pretty cool; shame it is that we never see them in battle.
They wander through the marshes for a time, and Gollum really ratchets up the sexual tension by kissing Frodo's feet to show how loyal and pathetic he is. Sam looks utterly disgusted at this, which is, I think, the only time he shows any sense whatsoever.
Back at Helm's Deep, Saruman's forces finally arrive and for some reason the sky turns red. The army is supposed to look vast and fearsome, but it still looks like a crowd of guys in sheets wearing Halloween masks. And they have taken a page from the Rohirrim's book, using "deee-deee-deedly-deee" horns themselves.
As the attack begins we're treated to yet another variation on the title theme, this time with an urgent, martial tempo, kettle drums, shrieking strings and lots of loud brass.
The battle scene is okay, but we never see more than a few dozen figures on screen at a time, and the entire scene is red-lit with fog and smoke effects obscuring detail, probably to cover up how bad the costumes look and cover up the fact that we're seeing rotoscoped live actors and not real animated figures. Aragorn fights pretty well for a guy in a miniskirt, and for a while it looks like the good guys are going to win when suddenly…
Suddenly…
Something weird happens.
Fireballs and meteors start exploding from the top of Isengard (miles and miles away), streak across the sky and blast open the curtain wall. Aragorn shouts, "The fire of Isengard! Retreat!"
Apparently, rather than crude explosives (as described in the novel), the uruk hai are being aided by Saruman/Aruman's magic in the form of long-distance skipping betty fireballs, shot with great accuracy from leagues away. So according to this movie, Saruman invented long-range artillery. I think that all the howitzer crews from Desert Storm owe him a vote of thanks, don't you?
Thousands (well, tens) of sheet-wearing orcs swarm through the red-filtered breach as the Rohirrim retreat to the Hornburg. There's some choral music in here, fortunately not to the tune of Rocky and Bullwinkle, but I can't figure out what they're saying. Perhaps something in elvish. Maybe in orcish.
(Frankly, I doubt it's in orcish, since they don't really have a great operatic tradition. The one and only opera written in the orcish language caused such a furor that its composer was captured, drawn and quartered, then resurrected so he could be drawn and quartered again. No one's really attempted to compose an orc opera since.)
Aragorn and Legolas cover the retreat, then fall back to the citadel with the other Rohirrim. Damn. Things look black for the forces of good now, don't they?
Ever, the optimist, Theoden proposes that the survivors ride out at dawn and get themselves killed, to which Aragorn readily agrees. Preparations for the heroic last charge begin as we cut back to Sam and Frodo on the frontiers or Mordor, whining and complaining about what a burden the ring is.
Gollum urges them to move on, but of course he's planning to scrag them once their backs are turned, and feed them to "her", whom we all know is Shelob, but we never do get to see her, which given how badly the Balrog and Treebeard were portrayed, is probably a mercy. The main title theme soars again, this time with that Great Escape tempo, and the trio moves off into the shadows.
And so, with darkness and uncertainty surrounding them, and the agents of the enemy on the verge of victory, all hope seems lost. But the rest of the story will have to wait until the next installment. Credits roll, music soars, house lights come up…
No, wait. It's still not over. There's still those poor slobs trapped in the Hornburg. Morning dawns, and the orcs on guard are surprised to see a horde of at least ten Rohirrim thundering forth from the citadel. And what do they do? Well, they're orcs… they retreat en masse.
Theoden and the riders pursue them, cutting down orcs in their path. When it comes to cutting down fleeing orcs by stabbing them in the back, the Rohirrim have no equals, but after a while the orcs realize that they outnumber the blondies by at least 100-to-1 and finally reach down and find a pair. They regroup and counterattack, and within a few moments the assault that started so promisingly peters out, and the last surviving Rohirrim are surrounded by thousands of gorilla-masked orcs.
The orcs stand as still as an oil painting, but here and there, to give the illusion of movement, a spear waves back and forth like a metronome, looking incredibly out of place and unrealistic.
At this point, I count perhaps 15 Rohirrim remaining, including Legolas, Gimli, Aragorn and Theoden. Given that these are the incompetent orcs that we've been seeing throughout the movie, who wouldn't even be a challenge for a legion of imperial stormtroopers (ha! Didn't think I'd seen Star Wars, did you?), there might be some hope for the Rohirrim - if Aragorn takes the 15,000 on the right and Legolas takes the 15,000 on the left, they could probably win through and lay siege to Isengard.
The orcs must know this, because they hesitate and seem to be kind of at a loss as to what to do. The impasse goes on for about an hour (well, it seems like an hour) before Theoden (for reasons known only to himself) shouts "Gandaaaaaaalf!" and the white wizard appears at the head of a relief column, sweeping down on the nasty orcs and killing them by the bushel.
Orcish morale, never high in the best of circumstances, breaks like a dry twig and Saruman's army collapses. Gandalf rides forth, hewing left and right with his sword in slow motion, and several gorilla-faces fall, spouting gallons of purplish-red blood, as if we've suddenly wandered into a Sam Pekinpah movie.
As Gandalf joyfully flings his sword up into the air, the voiceover narrator suddenly intones, The forces of darkness were driven forever from the face of Middle Earth by the valiant friends of Frodo. As their gallant battle ended, so too ends the first great tale of The Looooooord of the Rings.
Cut to a quick shot of Gandalf and the companions riding straight into the camera and then…
Music soars (the original Great Escape/Rocky and Bullwinkle tempo), roll credits, house lights come up and we're left wondering what the hell just happened.
There's so much that can be said about this movie, most of it not suitable for mixed company. To be fair, the filmmakers were reportedly working with their hands tied, limited resources and an ever-shrinking budget. They may, for example, have intended the sequences in which rotoscoped humans to be eventually replaced by fully animated sequences, with the humans there as placeholders or motion models. This might explain the gorilla-masked orcs, whose appearance fools no one and only elicits laughter in those who see them.
Ditto for the pacing. The majority of the first two books had to be crammed into a two-hour movie, necessitating that certain sequences (most notably Bilbo's birthday party) be truncated or cut entirely. Jumps from Moria to Lothlorian, from Fangorn to Edoras were jarring and probably left people confused and unsure who was who. The film fairly races through a story that should be told at a slow, relatively leisurely pace.
I can't really fault the script. With the exception of the aforementioned truncation, the dialog and events are quite faithful to the source material - more so in fact than Peter Jackson's later work. Cowriter Peter S. Beagle has produced some true classics, including Folk of the Air and The Last Unicorn, which was made into a much better animated film than this one. He preserves much of the dialog and interaction and despite the breakneck pace manages to create at least a small amount of character development. But the scenes are so short and the pacing so choppy that it's all but impossible to gain much sympathy or interest in any one character.
The film definitely falls flat when it comes to the art and design. Though the ludicrous orcs and the laughable Balrog can be excused by the budgetary limitations (see above), the other characters simply don't look right. Treebeard looks like a tuber with legs. Eowyn and Galadriel both have oversized, unrealistic looking eyes and a kind of southern California 70's air about them that's out of place in a dark ages fantasy. Aragorn looks like Apache Chief from Superfriends, and wears a skirt. Legolas is crosseyed and dresses like an elf from a Christmas pageant. Gimil is at least 5'8" and looks more like a bald stevedore than a dwarf. The hobbits are okay, save for their big floofy hair. Gandalf and the other older characters are saddled with massive, snow-white beards that join their hair like immobile helmets.
Boromir is easily the worst of the Fellowship in terms of character design. Nowhere in LotR does Tolkien imply that the Gondorians are Vikings. But here's Boromir, one of the most influential and powerful Gondorians, wearing a horned helmet, bearskin vest and (again!) no pants.
It's hard to say whether the legions of orcs wrapped in sheets (for their sheer number) or the novelty-slipper-wearing Balrog (for it's just plain badness) is a worse offense. Personally, I'll vote for the Balrog, given that it is easily the lamest and least terrifying movie monster in recent memory. Tolkien's prose made it vague enough that the reader can fill in the blanks for himself, and if you're going to film something that big and scary, you'd better do a good job. So far I've made only a few comparisons between Bakshi's vision of LotR and Peter Jackson's later films, but in this case I have to say that Jackson's Balrog is a good example of how high his now-classic, universally-acclaimed films soar above the animated version.And pretty much the end of this review. Bakshi's Lord of the Rings was released to critical condemnation and popular rejection. His limited resources and bad art designs had doomed the project, and Tolkien's trilogy remained unfilmed for over two decades before finally returning - triumphantly - to the screen under the steady hand of Peter Jackson. A sequel of sorts in the form of Rankin-Bass' Return of the King came out a few years later and - amazingly enough - actually had a number of things to recommend it (though the traditional orcish marching song Where There's a Whip There's a Way is not among them). Bakshi's Lord of the Rings remains a curiosity, and the creator is now remembered for better and more groundbreaking fare such as Friz the Cat, Heavy Traffic, Cool World, and the minor classic Wizards. Don't worry, we'll get to that last one eventually. I wouldn't want you to think that I was totally down on poor Ralph Bakshi. Until later, sword brothers and sisters… Fight on!
Sword and Sorcery Rating:
1 Broadsword
They took the greatest tale in modern fantasy and turned it into a breakneck-paced, hard to follow (and swallow) blur, preserving the basic story but pretty much destroying everything that made it moving, exciting and beautiful. And Aragorn trips on his sword.Comedy Rating:
3 Broadswords
There are frankly hilarious moments, especially regarding the lack of pants on male characters and Sam's constant irritating mugging to the camera. The Balrog and the crosseyed Legolas are both pretty funny too. Mind you, most of it is humor of the sad and tragic variety, but that appeals to some folks, I guess.Titillation Rating:
No Broadswords
With the exception of some vague homerotic overtones, the movie is almost entirely devoid of any titillation of any kind. In fact, if I could give it a negative here, I would.
