{"id":66337,"date":"2012-12-01T05:30:20","date_gmt":"2012-12-01T10:30:20","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.theonering.net\/torwp\/?p=66337"},"modified":"2012-12-01T05:30:20","modified_gmt":"2012-12-01T10:30:20","slug":"imagining-peter-jacksons-the-hobbit-part-three","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theonering.net\/torwp\/2012\/12\/01\/66337-imagining-peter-jacksons-the-hobbit-part-three\/","title":{"rendered":"Imagining Peter Jackson’s The Hobbit: Part Three"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a> In Imagining Peter Jackson\u2019s The Hobbit, guest writer Eric M. Van<\/a> draws together the threads of known facts, and add a dash of logic to speculate on how Peter Jackson and his crew may have imagined their version of J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit.<\/p>\n

This third part of the series continues to analyse the unique challenges Jackson and his fellow screenwriters face adapting The Hobbit for the screen \u2014 and examines how the unusual way J.R.R. Tolkien constructs the fantasy world of The Hobbit introduces its own special set of headaches. Warning: this feature contains spoiler<\/font><\/b> images.<\/p>\n

Imagining Peter Jackson\u2019s The Hobbit<\/h3>\n

Part 3: The world of The Hobbit and its challenges<\/h4>\n

I am going to make a bold assertion: many or most Tolkien lovers have utterly forgotten one of the principal charms of reading The Hobbit for the first time, because the experience of reading LOTR forever changes our sense of the nature of Middle-earth. The two tales are in fact set in very different Secondary Worlds, and when we re-read The Hobbit, we mentally transplant the action so that it takes place not in the world inherent to the novel, but in the sometimes downright contradictory world of its sequel.<\/p>\n

Consider the principal map accompanying The Hobbit, that of Wilderland. By the standards of later Tolkien maps, it is startlingly incomplete; there is no clue at all as to how far off the edge of the map to the west Hobbiton lies. And consider, too, the blurb Tolkien wrote for Allen & Unwin\u2019s December 1936 catalog and which they then used for the front flap of the first edition dust jacket; it begins \u201cIf you care for journeys there and back, out of the comfortable Western world, over the edge of the Wild<\/em>, and home again…\u201d (emphasis mine). The Edge of the Wild, marked so clearly on the map, is thus a concept essential to the setting of The Hobbit as originally conceived and portrayed.<\/p>\n

(And in fact when Tolkien began writing The Hobbit, it was set much more explicitly in our Western world than the finished text admits to. We hear Bilbo tell the dwarves that he is willing to \u201cwalk from here to the East of East and fight the wild Were-worms in the Last Desert,\u201d but as initially drafted, he was willing to \u201cwalk from here to the Great Desert of Gobi and fight the Wild Wireworms of the Chinese.\u201d (!) It was only when Tolkien connected this tale for children to his very adult legendarium that such references to contemporary geography became counterproductive to the effect he was trying to achieve.)<\/p>\n

The notion that is central to The Hobbit (and missing from LOTR), then, is that the world is a comfortable and familiar place, but if you get on a pony and ride far enough in the right direction, if you ride literally for a month, something extraordinary will happen: you will reach the Edge of the Wild, beyond which magic is real, and perilous adventure not only possible but unavoidable. And even though we know this is not now the case, the idea that things were once this way<\/em> exerts a powerful pull on the imagination of the na\u00efve reader. (And perhaps if you first read The Hobbit when young and have since re-read both it and LOTR many times, reading this will help you recover that initial sense of wondrous possibility, just as writing this has done for me.) <\/p>\n

While there was so little fantasy written before Tolkien that it makes no sense to characterize such a setting as \u201cconventional,\u201d there is no escaping the fact that some version of it is the rule in Tolkien\u2019s predecessors and chief influences. In Lord Dunsany, the threshold between the ordinary and magical worlds shows up repeatedly as \u201cbeyond the fields we know.\u201d And it is evoked with supreme power in William Morris\u2019 masterful The Well at the World\u2019s End<\/em>. <\/p>\n

In critic David Langford\u2019s description in The Encyclopedia of Fantasy<\/em>, \u201cIt is a long, varied haul from Upmeads to the furthest point where merchants care to travel, and then onward to the ultimate-sounding Utterness and Utterbol \u2026 But beyond again is the cloud-piercing mountain range called the Wall of the World, on whose far side lie numinous regions.\u201d (And if that doesn\u2019t make you want to read this if you haven\u2019t already, I don\u2019t know what will.)<\/p>\n

[Editor’s note:<\/b> To add somewhat to the above, William Morris<\/a> wrote a number of remarkable and influential fantasy novels, including The Well at the World’s End<\/a> and The Waters of the Wondrous Isles<\/a><\/i>. Those two essentially established the concept of the Secondary World. Morris lived, wrote and published during the late 1800s, and is in many ways the<\/i> proto-fantasist that the modern fantasy genre descends from.]<\/p>\n

And yet Tolkien made two innovations to this model. First, note that the journey from the everyday to the wholly fantastic occupies most of the Morris novel. In The Hobbit, the entire journey from Hobbiton to the neighborhood of the Edge of the Wild (where they encounter trolls who have strayed over the Edge and taken up residence on the ostensibly tame side) is related in a mere two paragraphs<\/em> early in the second chapter. First they ride through hobbit-lands, then through lands \u201cwhere people spoke strangely, and sang songs Bilbo had never heard before\u201d\u2014a line so brilliantly evocative and hence crucial to the effect of the passage that Tolkien left it in when he revised these paragraphs in 1966, even though no such lands or people exist in the world of LOTR (unless the party has accidentally strayed south to Dunland). <\/p>\n

Then an intermediate threshold is crossed, and we\u2019re in the Lone-Lands, devoid of inns or people and marked by evil-looking castles on hills (in the original edition, the Lone-Lands were not named as such and inns were merely \u201crare and not good\u201d). The downright Wild must surely be next. We will see shortly just why Tolkien was able to cut to the chase and get to the magical adventures nearly at once: it wasn\u2019t simply because he had the storytelling chops to evoke the transition in a handful or two of sentences.<\/p>\n

And the other innovation is one that you are no doubt puzzling over already. This comfortable, tame Western world already contains<\/em> fantastic elements, to wit, a hobbit, a wizard, and thirteen dwarves (in fact, that\u2019s all it contains). What Tolkien has done here is nothing less than combine elements of all three possible structures for unambiguous fantasy, as identified by the critic Farah Mendlesohn in her book The Rhetorics of Fantasy<\/em>. Mendlesohn\u2019s taxonomy is simple and logical, and enormously helpful in thinking about fantasy stories. <\/p>\n

In the portal-quest<\/em> fantasy, characters leave the known world and go through a portal or cross a threshold into the fantastic world; such crossings invariably involve a quest of some sort to be accomplished before returning home. The opposite is the intrusion<\/em> fantasy, where fantastic elements invade the known world (as in many horror stories). And finally, there\u2019s the immersive fantasy<\/em>, where there is no passage between known and fantastic worlds, and hence no contrast between them, except by implication: the story begins in the secondary world, where the fantastic elements are accepted as real and possible by the characters. <\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

How Tolkien did it<\/h4>\n

Tolkien\u2019s masterstroke was the invention of hobbits, who are fantastic only because they don\u2019t actually exist and because they are three feet tall and have hairy, toughened, feet but no beards; in all other ways they are resolutely Just. Like. Us. A story set wholly in The Shire would hardly be fantasy at all; it could be translated perfectly to certain regions of the U.K. at some point in the past, and that\u2019s precisely the point<\/em>. Hobbits are a signifier<\/em> that we are in a fantastic world, and hence that we are reading an immersive fantasy, but they themselves contain nothing significantly fantastic, nothing magical.<\/p>\n

Into this world, at once overtly fantastic yet utterly mundane, comes a genuinely fantastic intrusion: Gandalf the Wizard and his thirteen dwarves. They disrupt Bilbo\u2019s life as profoundly as the appearance of vampires or zombies disrupts the lives of characters in a pure intrusion fantasy, but in this immersive fantasy world they are not regarded as extraordinary by Bilbo. Nor (and this is crucial) does the reader expect him to be taken aback by their existence\u2014if Hobbiton were populated by the simple English countryfolk that hobbits stand for, and one of those<\/em> were confronted by a wizard and thirteen dwarves, we would expect him to marvel and wonder, if not collapse in shock. But because Bilbo is three feet tall and has hairy feet, we perceive him as being of the same ilk as his intruders, and readily accept it when he instead (at first) is merely \u201cconfusticated and bebothered\u201d by the dwarves and wishes they would go away and leave him alone. <\/p>\n

This seems to me to be the reason why Tolkien, in the next chapter, can dispense with the long narrative in which the everyday gradually gives way to the fantastic, and instead accomplish it in two paragraphs: the first chapter already contains an effortless juxtaposition and contrast of the everyday and the fantastic, one which is possible only because Bilbo is a fantastic character who is adamant about being nothing of the sort.<\/p>\n

Until, of course, the Took in him awakens. And then Tolkien can run the table on all the possible unambiguous fantasy structures: everyone leaves and goes off on a portal-quest. Here the opposition between the intrusion and portal-quest fantasies is not theoretical, but actual and sequential: the fantastic characters intrude into the mundane world, and when they leave to go back to their own, our hero Bilbo goes with them.<\/p>\n

In The Lord of the Rings, this already radical conception is made even more so. The Edge of the Wild is dispensed with entirely. Or, rather, when we get to the thrilling sixth chapter, we realize that it is not located just west of Rivendell, but, among other places, in the back yard at Crickhollow. Indeed, the presence of explicit peril in the neighboring Old Forest contradicts the portrayal of the world in The Hobbit. And it is revealed not only that Bounders work to keep the perils of the outside world from The Shire, but that there is much more peril than the hobbits realize, because the D\u00fanedain in secret are doing most of the Bounders\u2019 dirty work. In other words, the Edge of the Wild is nothing more or less than the borders of The Shire<\/em>. <\/p>\n

In LOTR The Shire has become what the critic John Clute, in The Encyclopedia of Fantasy, calls a polder<\/em>, borrowing the term from the Dutch for a tract of farmland reclaimed from the sea and protected by dikes. Fantasy polders are areas of altered reality protected against the intrusion of outside evil by a well-defined and consciously maintained (and usually magical) border. Clute cites Bombadil\u2019s domain within The Old Forest as one, and Shangri-La in Lost Horizon<\/em> as another. But The Shire is in some ways an anti<\/em>-polder. The alteration of reality within is not the presence of magic or the domination of a superior brand of it, but its absence, and the border is maintained through ordinary and not magical means. The adventure happens not when the polder is penetrated, but when it is left. Tolkien has in essence taken a fantasy trope and turned it inside out \u2014 at a time when it had hardly been invented. No wonder so many Tolkien imitations are ultimately unsatisfying; though they mimic all the accidents of the books, they miss their essences, which are so deeply embedded as to be almost indiscernible.<\/p>\n

***<\/center><\/p>\n

There\u2019s no question that any film adaptation of The Hobbit that is designed to be a companion of The Lord of the Rings must be set in the Secondary World of the later story. Re-setting The Hobbit in the word of LOTR is something that must be accomplished on two levels: first, literally, in terms of geographies, peoples, and the like; and second, in terms of flavor and tone. Let\u2019s deal with these in turn, because that\u2019s the order we\u2019ll encounter them as we tell the tale.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Adaptation challenge 3: The journey to the Trollshaws<\/h4>\n

As noted above, the literal differences and contradictions between the two worlds are largely contained in the two paragraphs early in Chapter 2 that relate the journey from Hobbiton to the Trollshaws. So what story should a Hobbit movie tell here? Remember, whatever solution we come up with must play equally well to those who have already seen LOTR, and to younger or future audiences who are seeing The Hobbit first. Each movie has a journey from Bag-End to the clearing where the trolls are turned to stone, and the journey in The Hobbit needs to not only work as a narrative chunk of its own movie, but to make sense as an alternate version of the journey in LOTR.<\/p>\n

One thing is easy: a stop in Bree needs to be inserted. In the world of LOTR it is the one major settlement on the way east, and it is the locale of a long and eventful scene in the existing trilogy. Its omission would seem odd to at least some viewers now; we don\u2019t want them saying to themselves, \u201cHey, where\u2019s Bree? Hmm \u2026 I guess it must not be on the road that Bilbo is taking, and therefore must have been a bit out of the way for Frodo\u201d when in fact it is on the road and was not<\/em> out of Frodo\u2019s way. And for those who will see The Hobbit first, if it\u2019s omitted, its unexpected appearance in LOTR will seem at least as puzzling. Tolkien came to the same conclusion, by the way: in his failed 1960 attempt to re-write The Hobbit to make it factually and tonally consistent with LOTR (the former proved to be impossible, and he was discouraged from doing the latter), he expanded the two short paragraphs of the journey into four longer ones, and devoted four sentences to Bree and mentioned The Prancing Pony. <\/p>\n

But solving this problem leads to a bigger one. If you insert Bree, doesn\u2019t something have to happen there? Because if nothing happens there, why would you show them stopping? (Think of viewers seeing The Hobbit first who have no expectation of seeing Bree.) In other words, that something happens in Bree in one movie almost demands that something happen there in the other. It\u2019s good storytelling to make the two journeys at least approximately parallel.<\/p>\n

And this explodes us into a much bigger and thornier dilemma, one we mentioned in Part 1. In FOTR, a huge amount of incident happens between Bag End and the trolls\u2014pursuit by Black Riders, Bree, and Weathertop\u2014and as previously noted the journey fills nearly 25 minutes of screen time. Do we let Bilbo cross all that territory without having an adventure of some sort? <\/p>\n

I\u2019ve already argued that Jackson will answer that question by inserting \u201cFog on the Barrow-Downs.\u201d But that\u2019s not the only way of solving this problem, and thus finding something to happen in Bree. You can further flesh out the journey from Hobbiton to the trolls with one or two brief, seemingly ordinary travel and camping-out mishaps or adventures. <\/p>\n

The challenge, of course, is to create episodes as entertaining as the rest of the story, which is why I\u2019m not going to embarrass myself by offering my own lame examples (e.g., the ponies wander off and need to be rounded up). I\u2019m guessing something happens in Bree, then something else happens while camping, then the barrow (near Weathertop), and then after a bit to establish Gandalf\u2019s absence and the others\u2019 growing discomfort, the trolls.<\/p>\n

A further, optional challenge is to make at least one of the new episodes relevant at some point later in the story, rather than being ultimately inconsequential. And I think you want to do this in a way that turns out to be unexpected<\/em>. The story doesn\u2019t really need the extra dramatic tension you\u2019d get if, say, the audience were aware that the group had unwittingly lost some key piece of equipment. But if you could come up with something happening that seemed to be innocuous to both the party and the audience, but proved to be consequential (probably to an expanded storyline in Laketown, which we\u2019ll get to in Part 4) \u2014that would be nifty plotting. As I said, it\u2019s a challenge.<\/p>\n

The main reason I like this idea is that the added episodes can also serve as a set of introductions to the dwarves and their distinct characters and expertises, thus functioning as a portrait of the quest party as a working group. Why are there 12 dwarves accompanying Thorin? And just as importantly, how do we tell them apart? The answers go together quite nicely. Giving Thorin 12 companions makes sense if each is particularly good at something and hence has a specific role to play in the ensemble. And the easiest way to quickly differentiate the dwarves in viewer\u2019s minds is to give them not only distinct looks (which we\u2019ve seen in publicity stills and the trailers) but such roles.<\/p>\n

John Callen, who plays Oin, has revealed that he\u2019s the medic (\u201cdo-it-yourself surgeon\u201d and herbalist), and since no one in the book needs medical attention until the Battle of Five Armies, that supports the idea that Jackson et al<\/em> are thinking along these lines. So does the report that Bombur is a master cook \u2014 that makes great sense (more so than Tolkien\u2019s own aside that Dori and Nori were the most interested in eating well) and provides a rationale for bringing the otherwise difficultly large Bombur along. <\/p>\n

Tolkien gives us a few more of these roles: Balin is always the lookout, Fili and Kili are scouts, and Oin and Gloin man the tinderboxes. Someone else could be particularly good with animals and wrangle the ponies (and perhaps deal with Ro\u00e4c the raven, if that storyline is expanded). Other possible roles include night watchman, bard, and tour manager. In any case, we would see these roles in action during the added episodes, which thus serve the dual purposes of personalizing the dwarves and making this leg of the journey feel as substantive as its FOTR counterpart.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Adaptation challenge 4: Protecting the flavor of The Hobbit<\/h4>\n

Making these changes to the journey to the Trollshaws of course means that we have abandoned (or completely re-defined) the concept of The Edge of the Wild that was so central to The Hobbit. And yet The Hobbit has other unique charms beyond the sense of magical possibility inherent in the Edge of the Wild idea. Chief among these are the sheer modesty of the work, when compared to its successor, and the sense that this relatively simple quest is taking place against a bigger, deeper and darker background, which remains only glimpsed. This version of the tale is not incompatible with LOTR \u2014 it is simply the story as seen through Bilbo\u2019s eyes only. And I think it is both possible and desirable to communicate at least some of this flavor before explicitly opening up the tale to the full canvas of Middle-Earth and its history.<\/p>\n

It is the parallel tale of Sauron\u2019s return that contains the depth and darkness, and as I explained in Part 1, this story thread will be knit together with the Erebor quest when Gandalf realizes that Sauron is planning to use Smaug as a weapon against Rivendell. But from the time the Sauron thread is introduced until the time it is united with the main storyline, it has the potential to overshadow it, when it is intended merely to complement it. A quest to recover treasure just can\u2019t compete with the return of the embodiment of all evil, and the imminent threat it represents.<\/p>\n

So we have two good reasons to delay the introduction of the Sauron storyline: to savor the flavor of the original modest Hobbit story and to avoid the danger of overshadowing the quest. For this reason, I think it almost certain that when Gandalf finds the Morgul-blade he will characteristically decline to tell Thorin and Co. anything about it or explain why he is leaving them for the time being. And of course, keeping the story from Bilbo\u2019s perspective and not showing us what Gandalf is up to while he\u2019s absent is necessary for the surprise of his rescuing them from the trolls. The Sauron storyline can be held off until the White Council, which will quite likely happen just before the party leaves Rivendell for the passes of the Misty Mountains.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Adaptation challenge 5: The Beorn supremacy (or lack thereof)<\/h4>\n

The Beorn chapter in the book is enchanting and sometimes delightful; even the image of scores of bears of all sizes gathering from dark to nearly dawn is wondrous rather than threatening (since they\u2019re dancing). Indeed, when Tolkien wrote the chapter, Middle-earth was a much less dark and dangerous place than it would later become \u2014 recall that in the original edition of The Hobbit, Gollum showed Bilbo the way out with perfect politeness. If left unaltered, \u201cQueer Lodgings\u201d would thus already seem out of place when transplanted into the world of LOTR. <\/p>\n

But that is only one of two difficulties it poses to as an opening sequence for The Desolation of Smaug. The sojourn at Beorn\u2019s \u2014 this vivid and charming respite from danger<\/em> \u2014 seems to me to be the first spot in the story where the Sauron storyline might easily overshadow Thorin\u2019s quest. One could easily imagine a viewer deciding they are more interested in learning about the imminent return of ultimate evil into the world than the ability of dogs, ponies, and sheep to collaborate on setting the table for dinner. Which would be a shame, really, for all of us who find that scene beguiling.<\/p>\n

It would be easy, I think, to fix this problem in a way that would be guaranteed to be effective, yet ultimately unimaginative. There\u2019s much going on in the background of the Beorn visit that could be foregrounded, tweaked, massaged into a plot, and made more than exciting enough, including the nocturnal gathering of the bears, and Beorn\u2019s capture, interrogation, and killing of the goblin and Warg. What\u2019s more, Tolkien leaves a major narrative gun on the wall, unfired: according to the information Beorn gleans from the goblin, not only are goblin and Warg patrols still hunting Thorin and Co., but the entire army may soon go after them. They never do show up.<\/p>\n

But if I\u2019m right about what\u2019s going on with the Radagast storyline at this point, none of this seems feasible. The goblins from the Mountains seem to have been replaced by orcs from Dol Guldur, probably led by Azog, and they may be pursuing Radagast as he flees towards Beorn\u2019s halls, and the bears may be needed to defeat them, after Thorin and Co. have left for Mirkwood. So none of these elements could really be used to amp up the Beorn episode. And that suggests an entirely different approach, which might be workable even if these Radagast guesses are all wrong.
\nInstead of worrying that the parallel Radagast storyline will overshadow the charm of the sojourn at Beorn\u2019s, why not embrace that difference? Cutting back and forth between Thorin and Co. experiencing the delights of Beorn\u2019s hospitality and Radagast experiencing the terror of deadly pursuit could be extraordinarily effective, even if Radagast isn\u2019t headed in Beorn\u2019s direction.<\/p>\n

What I have in mind here is a sequence similar to the justifiably renowned one in ROTK where Faramir\u2019s doomed charge across the Pelennor is intercut with Pippin\u2019s song for Denethor. The Beorn episode may be unrivalled in all of Tolkien for its portrayal of the purity of the natural world. All of Middle-earth may be tainted with evil, may be \u201cMorgoth\u2019s Ring,\u201d but there\u2019s hardly a scene in Tolkien where evil seems as distant and remote as it does when Beorn\u2019s animal companions tend to our travelers. It is \u2014 to reclaim a very nice word that has been so tainted \u2014 precious. Communion with nature is of great value. I can\u2019t think of a better way of reminding us of that, than juxtaposing it with the brutality of evil. <\/p>\n

Coming in January: The further challenges of the second and third films.<\/i><\/p>\n

About the author: Eric M. Van is better known in the real world for spending four years (2005-2008) as a statistical Baseball Operations Consultant for the Boston Red Sox, after being recruited off an Internet fan message board<\/a> by team owner John W. Henry. In more obscure regions he’s better known as a longtime rock critic for local Boston ‘zines<\/a>, and as the semi-official historian of re-united postpunk legends Mission of Burma<\/a> (and as a principal talking head in their biopic<\/a>). He hopes his next major published works (excluding film criticism at his blog<\/a>) will be a paper entitled “A Testable Theory of Phenomenal Consciousness and Causal Free Will” and a follow-up book, A Nature of Consciousness. (For his Tolkien-geek credentials, see the bio that appeared with Part One<\/a> and Part Two<\/a> of this series.)<\/p>\n

The views in this feature are his own, and do not necessarily represent those of TheOneRing.net or its staff.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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