Al's Omniflick: The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies

Monday, December 22, 2014

The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Peter Jackson/Starring: Ian McKellen, Martin Freeman, Richard Armitage, Luke Evans, Cate Blanchett, Orlando Bloom, Christopher Lee, Ian Holm and Billy Connolly

So we've come to the end of a trilogy, that quite frankly, is something of a non-event. I can't remember ever seeing a Jupiter-sized budgeted franchise with a plot predicated on adventure and thrills fail to deliver much in the way of...well...er...uh, adventure. The total expenditures for the trilogy--the latest estimates anyway--are close to $800 million. If I were to use a precious gem simile, I might say the series looks like a diamond but cuts like Cubic zirconia.

Peter Jackson's other trilogy was armed with bloated budgets but it delivered as promised. So much seemed at stake in Middle-Earth in those films. With The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies, I only felt impatience and relief that such a middling series was finally coming to an end.

The film is no cheap-jack production. With its turgid budget, one expects a film to at least meet high visual standards and it succeeds on that count admirably. In retrospect, as I thought about Laketown burning in the opening scene, I asked myself who really got torched; the citizens of that charred municipality or those of us who shelled out the scratch to sit through the flick? Yeah, I know Pete Jackson didn't coerce me into seeing his movie, but I had hoped the series might conclude satisfactorily and redeem the other film's mediocrity.

I can't imagine anyone would need a synopsis for a story so universally familiar. As one might expect, the Battle with Smaug carries the opening sequence. Bard the Guardsman (the charismatic Luke Evans) manages to free himself from Laketown's jail to take on the terrible dragon single-handedly. Unfortunately his arrows glance off Smaug's impenetrable, scaly chest. As the beast reduces the town to cinders, the legendary Black Arrow manages to find its way into Bard's hands via the desperate exertions of his son. Aware of the vulnerable spot on Smaug's nigh-impregable chest, he takes aim. We all know what happens next.

Meanwhile, the dwarves occupy Lonely Mountain. Thorin resists the company's and Bilbo's pleas that he satisfy the conditions of the dwarves' Laketown contract with the promised gold payment. The staggering cache of gold seduces Thorin, leaving him deaf to entreaty. Before long, the townspeople, lead by Bard himself and the Wood Elves, represented by Thranduil (Lee Pace) lay claim to part of the treasure, which creates a combustible situation which is hardly ameliorated by Gandalf's intervention.

Overcome with gold delirium, Thorin chooses war over the dwarves', woodelves' and the men's reasonable claims to a portion of the treasure. But as the armies assume battle positions outside the gates of Lonely Mountain, Thorin's hopelessly outnumbered company is joined by his cousin Dain's force, which arrives just as the battle is to commence. While the dwarves, former Laketown inhabitants and the woodelves wage war over the treasure, legions of orcs, lead by the brutish Azog, make their way to Lonely Mountain to forcefully establish their own claim to the treasure. And as the three armies' blades and arrows are drawn, Azog's invasion force arrives. After an initial melee, the orc army pivots to assault the abandoned town where the Laketown residents temporarily reside. Bard organizes the defense of the town as all armies clash, while Thorin and Bilbo race to the hill where Azog views the battle in an attempt to slay him; an act they hope will weaken the automatous orc army. The attempt on Azog's life leads to an inevitable showdown between Azog and Thorin, which shares screen-time with the battle at large. The various outcomes need not be mentioned here.

Aside from a few moments in the early battle and the impressive CGI we've come to expect from Jackson's Middle-Earth series, everything seems pro forma. Part of the problem is trying to feel the tension of battles already beautifully and excitingly depicted in the Rings Trilogy.

We've seen it all before. We've already seen the orcs and their nightmarish, mindless titans laying siege to bastions. Are we watching The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings? I sometimes couldn't tell the difference.

The arrival of the Eagles in the novel was something miraculous, but in the film their appearance is anti-climactic, as are the goblins that arrive late to join the fray.

I never cared for the liberties Jackson visited on the story, such as Legolas' presence and the contrived romance between Kili (Aidan Turner) and Tauriel (Evangeline Lilly). I don't know why Jackson felt it necessary to connect The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings when each could have easily stood alone. Yes, there is a subtle connection in the books but nothing that would call for what Jackson perpetrates. I realize it isn't really that big a deal. My real beef is the story and how it fails to seduce us as Frodo's quest did for three epic-length films. And of course the criticism that Jackson split one novel into three films has always been a valid gripe.

Too bad, I thought as I left the theater, but also good riddance. I think I've had more than my fill of Middle-Earth. 6 epic-length films in thirteen years have worn me out. I feel I'm ready to retire to the Shire too.

I'm sure I'll revisit the Rings Trilogy again and again but as for this trilogy--I don't think so.

I think Jackson is a very talented director and I'm eager to see what he pursues next. I'm sure he's quite ready to move on, as we all must feel. I'm relieved Tolkien has nothing significant for Jackson or anyone else to adapt, though I wouldn't discount someone's ill-advised attempt to bring The Silmarillion to the screen.

As of this blog-post, the film's opening, worldwide receipts are somewhere in the neighborhood of $350 million--a number that will no doubt swell obscenely with more box office. I'm sure the millions have entranced MGM and New Line Cinema execs as the mountains of gold mesmerized Thorin. As the bromide goes; the end justifies the means...at least for the guys in suits.

If only those grosses had bought an absorbing experience.

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On DVD

Fury (1936)

Director: Fritz Lang

Though we might normally think of the films M and Metropolis when director Fritz Lang becomes the topic of conversation, less known is the legendary director's work in Hollywood. Having fled the ever-growing menace of Nazi Germany for America in the early 1930s', Lang eventually found himself under contract for MGM.

Though his work in Hollywood is very uneven, one standout is Fury, from 1936. Starring Spencer Tracy and Sylvia Sydney, the film's condemnation of mob justice seems spectacularly daring now, considering lynching was still a reality in Depression-era America. We don't see one black person in the film entire but we know precisely for whom Lang film is sympathetic.

Spencer Tracy plays Joe Wilson, who is arrested in a small town while en route to meet his fiance, Katherine (Sylvia Sydney). Suspected of being part of a kidnapping of a little girl, Wilson is arrested on the flimsiest evidence. While he sits in cell; angry and indignant, Katherine is puzzled as to why her fiance hasn't arrived at their prearranged meeting place.

But Wilson's fortunes take a darker and more dangerous turn when a mob--already on edge--is roused to anger. Egging one another on, the mob moves on the jailhouse where Wilson is being held. As the angry gathering becomes a mass, drawing citizens of the town into their swelling numbers, a lynch-mob begins to form. The sheriff, determined to see due process take its course, refuses their forceful demands. Becoming angrier and angrier and bolder and bolder, the crowd storms the jail, overwhelming the sheriff and his deputies. Unable to unlock the cell doors to reach Wilson, the mob sets the jailhouse ablaze as an alternate method of lynching.

Katherine, having arrived on the scene, faints when she sees flames engulf the cell where her fiance is held.

In spite of the mob acting as a faceless entity, its principle members are brought to trial though the town and the defendants maintain a conspiracy of silence, hoping to escape convictions and censure.

A sure acquittal seems imminent until damning evidence assures their guilt. When the majority of the members receive death sentences, Wilson turns up at his brothers, having survived the fire. Knowing the public is unaware of his survival, he vows to stay in hiding to ensure the mob conspirators are executed.

The scene where Katherine, nearly insane from grief, comes face to face with Joe is a powerful moment in the film. As she slowly recovers from her state, she realizes Joe's vindictive determination to see the mob hang is in itself a great injustice.

The story climaxes during a stirring courtroom scene that brings the fascinating story to a close.

I would have never expected Hollywood to make a statement as powerful as Fury made in 1936. Given the fact that lynchings in America at the time went unpunished, the movie railed bravely, in spite of the main character being white rather than black, against what was then the status quo. The Oxbow Incident would make a similar and commensurately powerful statement seven years later.

The film's willingness to peer into the darker side of American life could be partly attributed to Lang, who co-wrote the story and who was no stranger to exploring the darker side of humanity. Having seen evil flower in his home country, it makes sense Lang would choose to tell this story.

Spencer Tracy and Sylvia Sydney give wonderful, emotionally layered performances. Katherine's near descent into madness is depicted touchingly by Sydney. To see Tracy's mild-mannered Wilson become angry and vengeful is heartbreaking.

Even watching Lang's film on a small screen does little to diminish its power. Weeks after the viewing, I still can't shake its indelible images or its angry indictment of one of America's great crimes. One couldn't devise a better title than one it was given eighty years ago. Fury indeed.