Books to Film: The Two Towers

Time has a way of changing your perspective on things, and favourite movies and books are no exception. The article below was originally published in 2004; and since then I’ve reread The Two Towers and rewatched the movie version. So rather than just tinker with this I decided to let it stand, with some second thoughts added in.

I still like both book and movie — but they are very, very different creatures.

Director Peter Jackson had a thankless task in adapting the second part of The Lord of the Rings for the big screen.

The difficulty lies in the fact that Tolkien originally intended The Lord of the Rings to be a single volume. His publisher balked at this; it was too much of a risk for a book whose only known audience consisted of readers of The Hobbit — in many ways a vastly different book. Thus the story was published in three volumes.

Structural suspense in The Two Towers

One writing axiom is “keep your characters in trouble.” Another is “keep your reader guessing.” Budding fantasy writers — and, indeed, suspense writers — could learn a thing or two from The Two Towers, the middle part of  J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings.

The action picks up with the Company of the Ring in disarray, seeking the Ringbearer, Frodo, as they are ambushed by orcs. (If you haven’t read Lord of the Rings, stop now; if you’ve only seen the movies, this discussion will make no sense — the movie and the book versions of The Two Towers have totally different structures, among other differences.)

All the reader knows from The Fellowship of the Ring is that Frodo has decided to go to Mordor alone, and Sam has gone with him; Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas know even less, as they variously fight the orcs and finally discover Boromir succumbing to his injuries, having failed to stop the orcs from abducting Merry and Pippin (which he doesn’t get a chance to tell them).

Books to film: The Fellowship of the Ring

If you’ve been Puttin’ the Blog in Balrog this summer, and taking part in the group read of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, you may have been brave enough to take part in the live-tweeted movie drinkalongs organized by SJ.

Film poster for The Lord of the Rings: The Fel...
Film poster for The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (film) – Copyright 2001, New Line Cinema (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Every Friday, whoever uses the hashtag #PtBiB can join in for an hour of snark (and drinking).  This past Friday marked the third week, so the group is done with Peter Jackson’s version of The Fellowship of the Ring.

It’s often said by readers, “The book is always better.” But is it? Are some works of literature impossible to translate to such a visual medium as film?  Or do they just need some tweaking to let their stories run free on the silver screen?

I wrote this piece some years ago; my opinion still stands, though I’m interested to hear what readers and fans of Tolkien have to say, since I’m well aware opinion is divided on what Jackson did with Tolkien’s work.

Beorn again: Tolkien’s favoured lycanthrope

Those of you who have been Puttin’ the Blog in Balrog and following the many posts collected at BookSnobbery, or those who are just fans of J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit, may be interested to read more on the Big Friendly Guy who pops up briefly in the story but is none the less memorable for all that. I’m talking, of course, about Beorn.

Tolkien explored the notion of “the wild” literally and figuratively in the character of Beorn. He was a civil (if potentially dangerous) host, and the head of a well-ordered household in which domestic animals obeyed his commands. Yet he lived between the inhospitable Misty Mountains, home to the less-than-human goblins (or orcs, as Tolkien later referred to them), and the menacing Mirkwood, perilous to all who entered.

The unofficial Middle-earth soundtrack

Leonard Nimoy

Longtime readers of J.R.R. Tolkien know he had a deep fondness for poetry and song.  Apart from his own compositions chronicling the early history of Middle-earth (such as The Lays of Beleriand), he filled both The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings with poetry, composed or recited, as it were, by the characters as part of the story. It added a richness and depth to the imagined peoples of his fantasy world that is rarely matched or emulated.

Tolkien’s dwarvish (not dwarfish) names

Confusticate and bebother these dwarves: Bilbo tries to keep names like Fili, Kili, Oin, Gloin, Bifur and Bofur straight.

For all that Tolkien devoted The Silmarillion to the vast history of the Elves (and, to a lesser extent, Men), it’s clear from The Hobbit (and in the characterization of Gimli in The Lord of the Rings) that he had a soft spot for Dwarves.

In the first place, Thorin Oakenshield isn’t the leader of a band of three or seven or even nine dwarves, but thirteen; and, remarkably, they all have personalities and relationships and are pretty well fleshed out for secondary characters.

But where did Tolkien find such distinctive dwarvish names as Fili, Kili, Dwalin, Oin, Bifur, Bofur and Bombur, among others?