by Bennett Campbell Ferguson
Above: Bilbo (Martin Freeman, far left) faces greater dangers in the second "Hobbit" film
In the opening scene of “The
Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug,” a lone man sits in a shadowy tavern while sinister
patrons eye him warily, preparing to attack.
Silently, the man prepares to leap into action and in response, you too brace
yourself for a madcap flurry fantasy blockbuster carnage. But it never comes. Instead, the conflict is cancelled when the
wily wizard Gandalf (Ian McKellen) takes a seat across from the man, a dwarf
king named Thorin (Richard Armitage).
Clearly, even the boldest warriors will think twice before ambushing one
of the greatest British actors of all time.
That
moment constitutes one of the several instances in which “The Desolation of
Smaug” successfully rouses your spirits via surprise. And while those moments are not enough to
make it a great film, they allow it to smoothly eclipse its predecessor, last
year’s “The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey.”
Doubtless, the new film will appeal to many “Hobbit” devotees (disparaging
reviews aside, the first film resonated with much of its core audience). But for nonbelievers, there are some truly
wondrous moments that sing with visionary finesse as well, even though they’re
ultimately overwhelmed by the film’s hulking but emotionally barren story.
Of
course, part of the picture’s thrill comes from the fact that director Peter
Jackson begins by hurling us into the midst of an adventure that is already
unfolding—once that fateful tavern encounter is over and done, we’re cast into
the night as the diminutive Bilbo Baggins (Martin Freeman) nervously but
vigilantly watches while a bearish creature prowls in the dark. Bilbo, as we learned in “An Unexpected
Journey,” is a reluctant hero, a man who rather wield a spatula than a sword. But in the new film, he’s embraced his role
as a warrior and aid to Thorin and his dwarf coven as they fight to take back Erebor,
a mountain that lies in the clutches of the sneering dragon known as
Smaug.
In
“The Desolation of Smaug,” Erebor looms on the horizon in many shots, beckoning
Bilbo and friends toward both danger and adventure. Yet for Mr. Jackson, the mountain is not so
important as what lies along the way—as our heroes near the destination, they
find their path constantly blocked by opponents, from the irritable residents
of a lake-bound village to a posse of elves, some of whom prove to be richer
characters than Bilbo and the dwarves.
In fact, the beautiful elfish warrior Tauriel (Evangeline Lilly) gets to
deliver the film’s sole spark of innuendo to the dashing dwarf Kili. “Aren’t you going to search me?” he demands
after she shuts him in stony cell. “I
could be hiding anything in my pants!”
“Or nothing,” Tauriel replies.
I
can’t emphasize the importance of this exchange enough. It’s appealing partly because it’s the kind
of slyly obvious joke that Preston Sturges might have relished getting away
with, but it’s also livelier than almost anything else in “The Desolation of
Smaug.” The movie’s cadre of
mythological monstrosities—spells, resurrections, magical artifacts—may register
as nothing more than obscure artifacts whose thematic complexities have yet to
be probed, but by sneaking flirtation (and maybe even love) into this sweeping
saga, Mr. Jackson takes a bold step towards making his opus as human as it is
Hobbit.
Would that he had gone further. After directing the entire “Lord of the
Rings” trilogy, a remake of “King Kong,” and the first “Hobbit” film, Mr.
Jackson has become one of the most experienced blockbuster auteurs of the new
millennium. And yet, his experience
hasn’t made him a better filmmaker because he still lacks that which keeps
artistic competitors in fighting shape—the understanding that violent spectacle
means nothing unless it’s leveled by humanistic ambiguity. Indeed, it’s no accident that the movies of Christopher
Nolan, Sam Raimi, and Bryan Singer have all presented frightening foes with
easily detectable vulnerabilities—it matters to them that audiences not only
become emotionally engaged with their films, but that they come to terms with
the fact that defeating evil often means both rescuing the universe from
damnation and harming people who are as human as they are cruel. So yes, Nietzsche’s warning to “battle not
with monsters, lest ye become one,” applies to commercial cinema, but so does
Mr. Raimi’s credo: “We’re all sinners and none of us are right or wrong.”
I wish Mr. Jackson could comprehend this because in “The
Desolation of Smaug,” he presents a distressingly simple battle between
righteous good and deplorable evil. And
while that would have been acceptable if he were content to merely indulge in
PG-rated flights of fancy, the reality is that he determinedly infuses his film
with an uncomfortable strain of savagery.
“Mine!” Bilbo crows after murdering a spider-like creature to obtain a
precious ring. The brutality of the
scene is bad enough (Bilbo slays the creature in cold blood, thrusting and
stabbing to the point of torturing it), but what’s worse is the film’s refusal
to reflect on the moral implications of the scene. Surely Bilbo, a decent fellow who’s simply in
over his head, would have walked away from the killing wracked with guilt. But rather than pondering his hero’s mental
state, Mr. Jackson buries it in an avalanche of monotonous action and
overbearing exposition.
That said…there is still beauty to behold. Any special effect can’t help but pale next
to a brilliantly alive actor like Mr. Freeman or Mr. McKellen, but Mr. Jackson
recognizes that strange and gorgeous sights can leave us both exhilarated and
moved. Thus, we get a glorious sequence
in which Bilbo climbs a twisting gray trunk until finds his head poking out of a
maze of trees, surrounded by a sweeping expanse of amber leaves and lightly
flapping blue butterflies. Here, the
world, including Erebor, stretches out before him, a dream as joyous and vivid
as waking life.
I would have loved to live in that moment for the rest of
the movie. Yes, it would have meant missing
a delightful scuffle of barrel-covered dwarves and, of course, the climactic
showdown with Smaug. But though that
battle caps the film, it’s nothing more than a soulless soirée of plastic-hued
digital madness—even when the dwarves subdue Smaug by smothering him in liquid
gold, the fearsome dragon looks like nothing more than a tacky Christmas
ornament. And really, most of the film’s
characters are mere ornaments to begin with, bodies to serve the spectacle,
rather than emotionally fleshed-out people worth caring about, let alone
loving.
Of course, many people do love them. Like the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy, the
“Hobbit” series has been adapted by Mr. Jackson from J.R.R. Tolkein’s Middle
Earth saga and it’s hard to imagine a series more beloved. And with that in mind, I recognize that “The
Desolation of Smaug” is a picture for those who passionately love Middle Earth,
not the outsiders like this critic who never felt the allure of Mr. Jackson’s
cinematic translation to begin with. I
would even guess that the diehard Tolkein and Jackson fans who haven’t enjoyed
the “Hobbit” films may feel the same way about them that I feel about the “Star
Wars” prequels—that when all is said and shot, a shaky trip to a beloved
universe is certainly better than no trip at all.
No comments:
Post a Comment