[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

Since Saucepan has condignly reminded me that Jackson's trilogy has little if anything to do with Tolkien's book of the same name, I'll respond to the far more interesting off-topic argument on the related Books thread this evening.

What I will say here is that this difference between the book and the films is a fundamental one, and symptomatic of a general failure on the part of the film-makers to portray a profound and significant theme in LR: that virtue and courage alone are not enough. What wins the battle more often than not is faith: the faith, and indeed the hope, to persevere against seemingly impossible odds simply because the only alternative is to give in. We have to understand that Tolkien's universe contains an omnipotent deity, who can and does sometimes reward such faith with divine assistance. Tolkien was trying to preserve a very delicate balance between his understanding of the Northern theory of courage on the one hand and his own religious views on the other; balancing the nobility of holding firmly to the right cause just because it is right, even if it is guaranteed to fail, against the idea that we are servants of a higher power, who rewards good service with aid. The reason why good characters seem able to defeat far more powerful evil ones is that they have divine assistance, through wyrd or Providence. "God's forethought", as Alfred the Great called it. Tom Shippey goes through this argument in much more detail in The Road to Middle-earth.

To reduce Tolkien's book to conflict on a physical plain is to misapprehend its nature entirely, and worse: to reduce it to a tired Hollywood cliché that little people with pure hearts can overturn mighty empires. Tolkien wasn't saying that the weak can defeat the strong: he was saying that with God's help the righteous can (not will) defeat the wicked, if they strive to the utmost limits of their endurance and skill without despair or pride. In other words: God helps those as help themselves. This is why Tolkien made the forces of darkness so overwhelmingly strong; this is why he introduced the word 'heathen' into Denethor's ranting as he reached the limits of despair (another botched scene). The odds have to be overwhelming if his composite theory of courage is to have full play. He wasn't using a story to proselytise as Lewis did, but simply taking for granted a theistic world view and incorporating into it the starkest and most unflinching form of valour. It's not a view that many people would have understood even in Tolkien's day, but nowadays it seems to be missed entirely, and from such a misapprehension stems the belief that because Merry can incapacitate the Chief Ringwraith, by the same token the Witch-King can defeat Gandalf. Sauron may be awesome, but he is to Eru as Fredegar Bolger is to him. He just can't offer the same kind of support to his followers.

Either it went over Peter Jackson's head or he was in some way persuaded to abandon it in favour of more conventional film motifs. Perhaps this was inevitable given the way in which films are funded and the expectations of profitability that are placed on them; but it's also why the films are on a lower plain of art than Tolkien's books; why the books are more original, more satisfying and ultimately more enjoyable. Tolkien wasn't trying to appeal to a mass audience (although significantly he does) or please financial backers, but to please himself; and so his work has an integrity in its bold risk-taking that is lacked by interpretations produced by committee with an eye always on cost, turnover and public reception. Obvious theistic themes don't play well in the world of business, and in any case subtlety isn't what blockbusters are about: so when I think about a duel between Gandalf and the Witch-king, I'd rather consider Tolkien's complexities and subtleties than Jackson's more predictable and orthodox Hollywood approach. No doubt in a duel between his characters you'd have Witch-king and Gandalf fight each other for half an hour, with each alternately getting the upper hand; then just as W-K was about to deliver the coup de grâce, Gandalf would suddenly find a hidden reserve of strength, his questing hand would find the handle of a discarded sword and he'd gut his enemy with a perfectly timed upstroke and a wry quip. That's the Hollywood way, but my point about the films has always been that it wasn't Tolkien's.