The Children of Hurin - The Film

[tumhalad2]

No, I'm intersted in the question I posited at the beginning of the thread. However, I would like to make my whole thesis a little clearer.

The Children of Hurin fails to mirror the metaphysical world that is built throughout the text of The Lord of the Rings. That is my basic thesis; my basic point. I contend that this holds true regardless of whether or not one considers the story as a standalone work, or as a part of The Silmarillion as a whole. Whether Tolkien intended it to be or not, the Children of Hurin certainly forms a ‘counterpoint’ to LoTR, if not a ‘repudiation’. CoH differs in certain central thematic ways from its cousin, LoTR, and I find this to be an interesting area for exploration.

The dynamics are very much different, and the treatment very much darker -- not just in CoH, but in several stories compiled in the Silmarillion: the Kinslayings, Eol's abduction and later murder of Aredhel, the betrayal of Maeglin, the abduction of children by the sons of Feanor, and so on. Dwarves and Elves are at war, Elves are at war against other Elves, Men fight alongside the Elves, Men betray the Elves -- we are dealing with two separate historical entities, even if the historical context is part of a subcreated world.

I am not merely arguing about the “treatment” of certain events. I am suggesting that there is an unresolved tension that Tolkien sets up, deliberately or not, between the metaphysics of CoH on the one hand and LoTR on the other. We should bear in mind that Tolkien’s mythology was ever evolving, changing and growing. Tolkien, the author, changed throughout his lifetime; at various epochs of his life he displays particular piousness, at others, his letters betray a fervent intellectual curiosity that transcends his adherence to dogma. Why should the varied attitudes and changing perspectives of an author not be mirrored in his or her work?

In the case of CoH, I think it can be seen that Tolkien’s later (1950s) extrapolation of the story became far more novelistic in its treatment of character, its thematic depth and its emotional resonance than the version in The Silmarillion (Indeed, I understand that Christopher Tolkien extrapolated The Silmarillion version from the longer Narn; so in actual fact we have in CoH a far fuller rendition of the story). It thereby attains a poignancy and ambivalence that is not present in The Lord of the Rings, and unlike its more famous predecessor The Children of Hurin does not take for granted a providential, meaningful world. In point of fact, the novel begins on a dark note, with the death of Turin’s sister, Lalaith. Turin is perplexed; why should the children of the Elves have certainty about their fate, and yet the children of Men should be denied such knowledge? Turin, as a young boy, posits the question to Sador. “Then Lalaith will not come back?” Sador’s only response consists of honesty: “She will not come back...But where she has gone no man knows, or I do not.” Sador does not reply with dogmatic platitudes: he genuinely has no idea, and no one else seems to either. This is world where ‘faith’ in the religious sense – the conviction that life is purposeful and inherently meaningful – has little or no meaning. This is a heartbreaking realisation for the young Turin, who in the next paragraph can do no more than affirm the “rightness” of his father’s cause, a cause that Sador his himself ambivalent about, or at least wary of.

There is little Gandalf-esque Providence. “Behind that there was something else at work, beyond any design of the ringmaker. I can put it no plainer than by saying that Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, and not by its maker”. Such mysterious, providential forces are not to be found in the pages of CoH, and no character at any time hints at, or claims knowledge of, forces that they cannot immediately experience. Turin’s worldview is determinedly pragmatic; his quest is not divine, nor his life afforded divine protections. He is not defined by, nor compelled on by, unseen spiritual forces. Morgoth’s curse manifests itself in the wily machinations of Glaurung the dragon, or the cruel twists of ironic fate. Never does it seem that there are unknown, though beneficial, forces at work against this, or that Turin’s merely putting “faith” in the Valar would alleviate the curse.

This is all to note that in many respects the “metaphysics” of the two novels cannot be reconciled, and that the differences between them are more than merely superficial, or down to the nature of the publishing history of CoH.

Given all that, I was interested in the reception a film version may receive. Evidently, however, there are too many disagreements about the nature of CoH itself to allow for a productive discussion along the lines I originally proposed. I feel, at least, as though I have articulated my own position more clearly.