| |
|
Damn, you beat me to it.
I was going to start a thread called "The Fellowship of the Ring: Revisited," specifically to compare and contrast experiences of watching the film in the cinema and watching it at home—because this is a film that a lot of people are going to rent or buy, even though they've already seen it on the big screen, and the experiences will be very different. At least mine was. Were. Whatever.
Part of that is scale, part of it is context—I rarely go out to the movies, so just being in the theatre has the feel of an event—and part of it is my changed relationship to the text: before seeing the movie the first time, I hadn't read the books in twenty years—but since then I've re-read some key sections and listened several times to the 13-hour BBC radio adaptation.
Was much more conscious this time of the changes they'd made—which ones worked, and which didn't.
Surprised to hear you say the pace was slow, though—if anything I found it too breakneck-fast, so that certain bits that could have benfited from a more reflective tone were lost in the rush (the entire Lothlorien sequence, especially, and the temptation of Galadriel in particular: she's announcing that she has "passed the test" almost before we realize she's being tested.)
In re: characterization—I came away more impressed than ever with the handling of Boromir. As I think I mentioned in the earlier thread, (which I think got lost in a reboot), Boromir didn't impress me much when I first read the books: he seemed to exist mainly as an object-lesson about how the thirst for power corrupts. But looking at him now, I find him the most well-rounded character in the story.
The reason? Boromir, almost unique among the characters, exists in a web of relationships. While Gandalf and Aragorn are loners and Men of Destiny, Boromir is the son whose father is losing his grip, the elder brother expectred to follow his father, a patriot who loves his people: he is comrade and friend to a man whose coming as King will essentially put him out of a job. His bitterness and contradictions began long before he encopuntered the Ring. He's the most fully-realized—and ultimately, most tragic—of all the characters.
I was impressed, on second viewing, with the subtle ways in which the film builds sympathy for him while opposing his character to Aragorn's: extroverted, empathetic and nurturing where Aragorn is noble and distant. As they leave Rivendell, he teaches the hobbits swordsmanship while Aragorn is off by himself, brooding over his Awful Fate. In the escape from Moria, he scoops the hobbits up in his arms protectively: when Gandalf is assumed dead, he embraces his comrades, trying to comfort them, while Aragorn is... off by himself, brooding. And when Aragorn coolly insists they move on, it's Boromir who pleads that the others be allowed for a little time to grieve.
And when he steps off the edge, it's heartbreaking. Again. I saw the craft behind the art this time, the technique behind the impression—but when the first arrow hit Boromir, I exploded into tears regardless. |
|
|
