Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Movie Review: "The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug" (Peter Jackson, 2013)

SMAUG OF WAR: CONFLICT ERUPTS IN “DESOLATION”
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