The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies
(2014)
(SPOILERS) Peter Jackson’s second Tolkien trilogy has ignited
controversy and disenchantment, much of it vented by those who praised him to
the heavens for his work on the first. The
Hobbitses aren’t quite the equivalent
of George Lucas’ much-maligned Star Wars
prequels, but few would deny there is a noticeable step down in quality from The Lord of the Rings. The main bones of
contention remain ever-present in The
Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies.
There are the invented characters and unnecessary encores for known
ones that shouldn’t be there. There’s the over-use of CGI employed to engineer frequently
ludicrous action sequences, which are rendered devoid of tension as a result.
There’s the expansion of a slim volume to the point where it isn’t quite clear what the picture is about any more. I
enjoyed the previous two films (the second more than the first), but it was a
stop-start enjoyment, whereby Jackson could be relied on to throw something in
the mix at intervals that was tonally glaring or even woefully misconceived.
While I fully expected this to follow suit, I also had limited expectations for
the third instalment based on the retitling; Battle of the Five Armies would be an extended dust-up, one that
becomes wearisome through repetition and a lack of places to go with its story.
In that respect I was pleasantly surprised. The film is much more balanced than
its name suggests (There and Back Again
would, admittedly, be a misfit), both in the amount of time it takes to get to
the fighting and in engaging the viewer with the different strands of the melee
itself.
This is a solid adaptation, one possessed of a familiarity that
has long since ceased to invite superlatives. It hangs together much better
than one would expect, given that it represents the afterthought of the series;
Jackson’s not-at-all-cynical-honestly expansion from two films to three. It’s
unvarnished genesis is most evident in the leaner running time (by about 20
minutes) and the dispatching of Smaug in the opening sequence. I’m not sure the
latter decision really services any aspect of the story, outside of the home
viewing of the trilogy arena, since Smaug is the tale’s biggest character and
the most iconic presence. Having built up the dragon’s threat effectively,
Jackson managed to dissipate the tension and break the rhythm by ending The Desolation of Smaug on a cliffhanger.
The sequence itself is effectively staged, but it would be more so as one unit.
Luke Evans, who has not always been well served in his film roles, makes a strong
showing as Bard throughout; he’s a more accessible leader than the impossibly
noble Aragorn. The only trouble is that as he assumes the mantle of leader so
his screen time diminishes to make way for more dwarfish matters. He also gets
a typically dumb Jackson rescue sequence atop a runaway cart (Bard’s sufferance
of not-so-comic-relief weasel Aldrid – Ryan Gage – also serves to undermine him
slightly.
Better served in the humour stakes is Stephen Fry’s Master of
Laketown; at least, I liked his line where he regrets not saving more people
because “they’re just not worth it”.)
During the course of the battle itself, we get to see Billy Connolly riding a
pig (the CGI mounts in these films have become no better realised in 10 years)
and a skydiving bear. The comedy in Jackson’s post-splatter films has always
been variable (I don’t think the Beorn is supposed to be funny) and more often
that not he misses his marks. Sylvester McCoy, who was surprisingly okay in An Unexpected Journey, is onscreen for
about two minutes.
As I say, I’d expected the battle to be a stodgy and overstuffed
pudding. Yet Jackson takes well-judged time getting there (although many would
say he takes far too much time and liberty getting everywhere in these three
films). The release of Gandalf occurs with perfunctory ease, and there is something of a greatest hits package
about the arrival of Galadriel (including dark Galadriel revealing her monochrome
fury), Saruman, and Elrond, fighting the Nazgul and eliciting a Sauron cameo.
At times, the Lucas trap is set for all too see in The Battle of the Five Armies, not only in the over-reliance on CGI
where once there was physicality and weight, but also – in scenes such as this
– taking unnecessary pains to interlink and reference what is yet to come. I
enjoyed the sequence, but Christopher Lee all but winks at the camera when
Saruman say he’ll go and deal with this (his super-acrobatic fighting skills
are a definite improvement on his Dooku moves).
So too, Lee Pace’s Thranduil when he suggests Legolas seeks out
Strider. Who may be some sort of super-special kind of fellow but Thranduil’s not
telling quite how. Jackson is over-egging the pudding, just as the effect of
bookending the adaptation with Ian Holm denies the story an identity in its
own right. The Hobbit will forever
exist in reference and deference to The Lord
of the Rings, which may not impinge on the latter, but it is definitely
deleterious to the former.
Orlando Bloom’s presence in this trilogy is easily the most
glaring and egregious. No one was demanding he return, apart from Bloom and his
agent, and Legolas’ waxy-fake rejuvenation fails to convince at any given moment.
Worse, the already artless CGI acrobatics of his original appearances are now
augmented beyond any rhyme or reason. Does Jackson think it’s cool to have the
irksome Elf hitch a ride on a bat? Or is he, perversely, clutching the cheesy
fakery to his prodigious bosom, just as he did when Legolas slid down a oliphaunt’s
trunk in The Return of the King?
At
least the fight with Bolg has some mano a mano energy, although it too falls
prey to busyness and pixelated video-game defiance of feasibility (leaping up
falling rocks). What bothers most about the whacky CGI Jackson frequently
indulges in The Hobbits is that it
destroys the illusion, collapses any suspension of disbelief. Middle Earth is
no longer an encompassing, immersive world.
The Elvish are also where my other big beef with Battle of the Five Armies arises. I
don’t have a problem changes to the source material as long as it doesn’t
adversely affect the wholer picture. Evangeline Lilly’s Tauriel was fine in the
previous pictures, partly because Lilly was a strong and commanding presence, easily
eclipsing Bloom, and partly because she was used reasonably well. That is, up
until the point Jackson decided to intimate the love that dare not speak its
name between a dwarf and an elf.
Obviously, it had to be a photogenic dwarf (Aidan
Turner’s Kili) and not a fugly one with a prodigious proboscis (Tauriel’s
romance with the fat ginger one Bombur really would have been ground-breaking). Star-crossed besottedness becomes Tauriel’s defining characteristic this time
out, and it leaves her ineffectual and hopeless. Their passions have been
inflamed after about five minutes together, but neither the actors nor Jackson
is able to sell this. It’s particularly
laughable that Thranduil, having read her the riot act, should be persuaded her
feelings are in fact genuine and pure.
Most damningly, Tauriel also becomes another moon-eyed damsel in distress who
needs Legolas to do the man’s work for her.
Other elements work as well as you would hope, though. If
Thorin’s dragon sickness echoes and previews Boromir’s, then it feels appropriately
so. Richard Armitage musters a compelling portrait of a noble character brought
low by greed; it’s the kind of substantial motivation The Hobbits have lacked through being (naturally) slight and
slender pieces stretched beyond their means. It also works as an effective
twist in a third film, as Thorin has been marked as effectively the classical
hero of the trilogy. His face-off with Azog finds Jackson on strong form, and
includes a superior sequence as the Orc floats beneath a sheet of ice.
The battle is well staged for the most part, and all-the-more
effective for the detours into one-on-ones with Azog and Bolg. While there’s a
nod to the novel’s Bilbo being out cold for the duration of the conflict,
Jackson wisely makes better use of him, providing a sequence with the ring and
so ensuring we keep in our minds how much influence it has on him. Without it,
the malign hold would seem more casual than cumulative.
Nevertheless, Bilbo really
is incidental here, and I have to admit that, as dependable as Freeman is, he doesn’t
take on the dimensions or presence of Elijah Wood or Ian Holm’s eminent hobbits;
this might be because I see past roles too clearly in his performance. As
familiarity goes, Ian McKellen Gandalf’s parting lines to Bilbo, verging on
admonishment, are up there with his best, but otherwise the wizard is an entirely
familiar part of the furniture; a piece placed in the corner of the room with a
few coats piled on it.
Jackson doesn’t
include about 10 different endings here (there are three), so I expect the
extended addition will include a few items that need acknowledgement (Bilbo’s
share of the treasure, the fate of the Arkenstone). I’m not expecting great
things, but I’m curious to view the extended versions back-to-back; perhaps
they will prove greater than the sum of their parts. With the exception of The Fellowship of the Ring, I didn’t find
the original trilogy entirely satisfying until it landed in longer form.
I also suspect time will be kinder to The Hobbit than it has been to the Star Wars prequels. Brickbats were out for both, but, while the
disappointment with Jackson’s tonal liberties and visual incontinence are
understandable, there are still many things here he gets right, and much to
enjoy throughout. They won’t ever be seen as classics like The Lord of the Rings – they lack the sweeping scale, the emotional
journey, and the clear sense of identity, apart from anything else – but they will
probably become accepted as likeable if slightly over-nourished relatives. Which
should see them through until the next versions are made in another 30 or 40
years.
