The Book of Arnold

        We recently had the opportunity to see the Broadway musical “The Book of Mormon,” which had funny moments, and dark moments, and an awful lot of obscene moments, and of course lots of entertaining song and dance…  But to my surprise it turned out to be largely about the power of story to improve the world, and that’s a message I’m always interested in exploring.  At the beginning, Elder Arnold Cunningham’s storytelling proclivities are not particularly productive, but eventually he begins to realize that his stories have the power to help people, to make them think about their experiences in new ways, to change their perspectives and their relationships, and to make their world better.  At that point, he’s no longer “lying;” he’s composing “fiction” (or perhaps “fan fic.”)  After all, most people don’t believe his stories literally; as one villager explains witheringly, “It’s a metaphor!”  Cunningham’s stories teach people, in a message LeGuin would approve, that the way things are is not inevitable.  His stories give role models for new modes of relationship, and offer the hope that creativity can be brought to bear even when all other hope seems lost.

        The stories that Cunningham tells, claiming them to be gospel, are utterly nutty mash-ups of the actual Book of Mormon with hobbits and Mordor, Darth Vader and the Death Star, the Starship Enterprise and many unfortunate frogs.  Significantly, though, they aren’t merely hilarious (or merely crude); they are made up out of a desperate desire to help desperate people, and to help those people make sense of and deal with their reality.  And that is, at its heart, one of the deepest purposes that fiction, and speculative fiction in particular, can have.

        “This book will change your life” could be true of many books.  For some people it’s The Lord of the Rings, or Harry Potter, for others perhaps it’s To Kill a Mockingbird or The Lorax, or The Phantom Tollbooth.  Whatever it is, if you’re a reader, you remember that feeling: that awe and wonder as your mind blossoms into bright new light and the world is never quite the same again.  The musical The Book of Mormon claims that any story that can do that is enough gospel for anyone, and while I don’t agree that any and all fiction should be equated with divine revelation, I do agree that there is a valid point here.  Story has a power - sometimes even a divine power - to change lives and to change the world.  And that’s certainly worth singing and dancing about!

[Picture: Darth Vader and Death Star, linoleum block print by Peter Santa-Maria (Image from his Etsy shop ATTACKPETER).]

Valerian's Universe

        The movie “Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets” has not been a huge success, and it’s undoubtedly because the lead characters utterly fail to engage.  But to dismiss the movie entirely is to miss the incredible achievement that is the fascinating universe in which those disappointingly uncharismatic characters exist.  Luc Besson has shown us some really special places and beings in this movie, and for our family it was worth seeing for the universe alone.

        First, the opening sequence of the movie explains the City of a Thousand Planets by giving us a history of the International Space Station in a series of parallel vignettes.  First we see weightless human astronauts on the station welcoming new humans in 2020, followed by welcoming ever more diverse humans as time clearly moves farther into the future.  Before long the first alien species arrives.  The first aliens are followed by others, ever stranger and sometimes rather scary-looking, but each time, despite nervousness or uncertainty, the human leader of the ever-larger space station extends a hand and welcomes everyone.  I found this short montage quite moving, and I loved that it was a message of hope for the future: that we can coexist if we so choose.  We are told that the enormous space city that grew from its beginnings as the International Space Station has become a place where hundreds of species live together, sharing their knowledge.  I think it’s important to envision a possible future that is positive, and that is worth working toward.  (On the other hand, David Bowie’s “Ground Control to Major Tom” (aka “Space Oddity”) seemed an odd choice of music to pair with this sequence, as I think of the song as being quite depressing!)

        As for this world where hundreds of species live together, at some times more peacefully than others, it is stunningly beautiful.  With everything in CGI instead of actors in costumes, we can have a really wide variety of species, so much more than humans with funny head-bumps.  We get aquatic species, gaseous species, tiny species and huge species, robotic species, slimy species, beautiful species, hideous species…  We get species that insist on living sequestered in their own zones, and species that aggregate and co-mingle.  We see species that live in cities in the spirit of “Blade Runner”s LA or Besson’s previous NYC in “The Fifth Element,” but we also see a variety of other landscapes, from something that looks like the interior of a huge golden computer or library, to something that looks like narrow tunnels full of glowing translucent balls.  There’s an extended sequence in which we visit a city in another dimension, such that the action takes place in an empty desert and, simultaneously superimposed over it, in a huge bazaar reminiscent of something on Tatooine.  This is a new kind of setting I’ve never seen before, and exemplifies how Besson’s universe stretches us beyond previous visions of sci fi futures.

        Sadly, the main characters and basic plot don’t live up to the magic of their universe, and it’s a terrible disappointment thinking about what this movie could have been but wasn’t.  Still,  many of the secondary characters were excellent, and when it comes right down to it I did enjoy just being in that world for a couple of hours, even if I would have preferred more engaging company.

[Pictures: Various alien species, all images from Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets, written and directed by Luc Besson, 2017.]

Underrepresented Love?

        Back in December two generations of our geeky family, including an assortment of brothers, sisters, children, and nephews, saw “Star Wars VII” together and enjoyed it very much.  I haven’t bothered to do a review of it, but I’ll just say that I’m cautiously optimistic about this new trilogy!  I was, however, disappointed that Han and Leia hadn’t lived happily ever after in the time since “Return of the Jedi,” and that’s when it hit me.  There are now seven full-length movies in this franchise, and we have been shown only a single instance in the entire known galaxy of a happy marriage: Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru.  (It doesn’t end well for them, of course, but their relationship seems to be solid enough.)  When other groups are depicted in fiction in such disproportionately low numbers people object, and rightly so.  It’s crazy to show a universe (especially our universe) that includes only white people, or only straight people, or only one or two token women, for example.  We speak up loudly against underrepresentation in the media, tokenism, and the Smurfette syndrome, in which men come with a range of personalities, and then there’s “female,” a single adjective that consists solely in being attractive to all the other people, where people = males.  It may be an uphill battle, but the battle is underway.  There has been progress, so although there’s still a long way to go, it’s clear that somebody’s hearing the clamor.  Look at “Star Wars” in relation to race and gender: “A New Hope” includes one female and no non-white humans (as far as I can recall - there might be someone in the background somewhere), but each subsequent film includes a few more, until “The Force Awakens,” where two of our main characters are not white males.  This is great progress… But happy marriages?  After Owen and Beru’s slaughter launches Luke into his adventure at the beginning of the first Star Wars movie ever made, we never see another happy relationship on screen again.  In the neighborhood of Valentine’s Day it seems appropriate to make a fuss about this.

        Happy relationships are not a tiny, obscure minority.  They are common around the world, among every economic class, every race, in every neighborhood.  Sadly, not everyone lives in a happy relationship, of course, but everybody knows people who do.  So why is this particular demographic group so disgracefully, wildly underrepresented in fiction?  It’s true that drama requires conflict, so all sorts of conflicts are disproportionately common in fiction.  In our household we like detective stories, and I’m willing to accept that disproportionately unhappy families may be necessary in that genre to provide sufficient motives and red herrings to keep a murder mysterious.  But why can there not be solid relationships portrayed on the sidelines, at least?  And in a galaxy far far away, why should there not be more happily committed couples?  I think it’s time that champions of healthy romantic relationships step forward to demand more representation in the media!

[Pictures: Jack Sprat and His Wife, Rosie, rubber block print by AEGN, 2001;

Love Tree, linocut by Farah Shah, 2016 (Image from her Etsy shop Farah Shah).]

"The Book... no, I mean the Movie Was Better"

        The movie “How to Train Your Dragon 2” is not to be confused with the book How to Be a Pirate, the second in Cressida Cowell’s How to Train Your Dragon series, by which the movies were inspired.  About the only thing the books and the movies have in common is a few names.  Now, normally this really irritates me.  I’m always railing, “If you thought the book would make a good movie, make the movie follow the book.  And if you think the book won’t make a good enough movie, then don’t make it into one!  Go write your own movie script!”  Major pet peeve of mine, actually.  But in the case of “How to Train Your Dragon,” I find myself relaxing my rule for the simple reason that I actually like the movies better, different as they are from the books.
        I do like the book series.  Hiccup is a great character and his adventures are funny, convoluted (in a good way), and generally heartwarming when it comes down to it.  They illustrate the value of thinking, creativity, loyalty, and other Good Stuff.  They’re cleverly written.  They’re also aimed very squarely at a fairly narrow target audience of, say, 8 to 10 year old boys who find potty humor fabulously subversive and hilarious.  Since I am not, as it happens, an 8 to 10 year old boy who finds potty humor fabulously subversive and hilarious, I roll my eyes and do my best to tolerate those elements of the books, because I enjoy other elements.  But the movies have succeeded in making stories, characters, and situations that appeal to a much broader audience.  They succeed in emphasizing some of the deeper elements in the stories, while eliminating the gratuitous pee-pee-poo-poo stuff.  Also, Toothless in the books is just completely irritating, while Toothless in the movies is awesome.

        [WARNING: This paragraph may contain potential SPOILERS.]  The villain in “How to Train Your Dragon 2” is not Alvin the Treacherous, but a new-for-the-movie character called Drago.  But the worst actions are committed by Good Guys under mind control.  It turns out that dragons have no free will and are helpless to disobey the thoughts of an alpha dragon - a concept about which I’m definitely not best pleased.  I like free will.  But the yoke of evil was successfully thrown off - Yay! - so it was okay in the end.  There was one major plot element never explained (why should the evil alpha dragon do what Drago says, anyway?) and two plot pieces that D and I thought might have (and should have) gone a little differently.  We thought Astrid should have become the new chieftain of Berk, since according to Hiccup, she’s the one who’s actually good at that sort of thing.  And we thought something further should have happened with the deposed evil alpha dragon - redemption, banishment, penance… something.
        Anyway, our final review for “How to Train Your Dragon 2” is that it wasn’t as good as the first movie, which really is one of our top favorites, but still excellent.  P and T enjoyed it a lot, P despite the mind control, which is a plot element he utterly loathes.  We didn’t watch it in 3D, so all the soaring shots designed for maximum 3D spectacle were wasted on us, and seemed unnecessarily long, although they were still quite beautiful.  The scenes in the secret dragon cavern were absolutely lovely.  We recommend this movie with all eight of our family thumbs up.

[Pictures: Hiccup and Toothless;

Berk, images from the movie by DreamWorks, 2014.]

"Frozen"

        I finally saw “Frozen” this weekend with T, who had been wanting to go for some time.  Although inspired by Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Snow Queen,” all that it really has in common with that tale is a snowy queen, a sliver of ice in a heart, and a reindeer.  If they’d titled the movie “The Snow Queen,” that might have irritated me, but since the movie never claims to be Andersen’s tale - and is, as it happens, a much better story anyway - all is well.  I never particularly liked Andersen’s “The Snow Queen” anyway.
        I enjoyed the movie very much, the more as it has a couple of interesting differences from your average Disney animated feature.  Most importantly, this is a story about family dynamics and love between sisters as much as - or more than - romantic love.  Although the sisters Elsa (the “snow queen”) and Anna are antagonists through most of the story, everything they do towards each other is really done out of love.  This is also a story about figuring out what your gifts are good for.  It’s got the message (certainly common enough in movies for children and young adults) that what makes you different makes you special.  But this movie goes a little further, with the message that your gifts become positive and productive only when they’re controlled by love rather than fear.

        As for the romance in the story, Anna’s notion of “love at first sight” is rejected by other characters, and although Anna does come to a more developed love eventually, Elsa is shown as complete and happy without a romantic partner at all - another unusual twist for a Disney princess.

        The ice and snow are beautifully animated (although a yellow stained spot on the movie screen showed up a lot more noticeably in this movie with all its white!)  I will say that I wasn’t particularly smitten with the songs, and I wasn’t a huge fan of their very pop style, but that’s just a matter of taste.  The design element I found most jarring was Elsa’s ice dress.  For the most part the movie goes for a Scandinavian-inspired style, with great traditional architecture and Norwegian designs on clothes, etc… but when Elsa lets loose her icy powers, she gives herself a slinky dress that looks straight out of some anachronistic red-carpet event, complete with slit up the thigh.  Even weirder, she starts sashaying about like a runway model with swaying hips and provocative glances over her bare shoulders, all while singing about how being a good girl is what’s holding her back…  The sudden sexualization (however minor and G-rated) is slightly inappropriate anyway, but particularly strange considering that it’s in the scene where she’s committing herself to total isolation.  Still, despite finding this one aspect of the movie jarring, it really wasn’t too egregious.
        I didn’t find the comic sidekicks as charming as some others in the history of animated movies, although they were fine.  (My favorite comic character was actually the villainous Duke of Weselton dancing at the ball.  Also, I liked Hans and Anna’s line that was something about how it must be love because we always finish each other’s… sandwiches.)  But while aspects of the movie were merely fine, there were other aspects that were exceptional.
- There was one plot twist that actually took me completely by surprise.
- The portrayal of the sisters’ growing estrangement and continuing love was very strong.
- The depiction of snow and ice as both positive and negative, dangerous and vital, was nuanced and interesting.
- Some of the scenes were visually gorgeous, including the storm at sea and most of Elsa’s cryokinetics.
- There was very little violence and even the villain got only one punch in the face and then was sent home in disgrace.  (But in the Mickey Mouse short shown before “Frozen,” Mickey and his gang were quite disturbingly gleeful about excessively repeated explicit cartoon violence.  Yuck.)

        I cried copiously throughout the movie, and while that doesn’t necessarily say much since, as my family will tell you, I cry at everything, I did find certain scenes very moving.  As for T, she enjoyed the movie thoroughly.  Her favorite character is Sven the reindeer, but she rates the entire movie “totally awesome."

[Picture: Frozen poster, art director Michael Giaimo, 2013.]

Tolkien - Less and More

        January 3 was J.R.R. Tolkien’s birthday, and I was going to use it as the opportunity to write my review of Part II of “The Hobbit” movie.  But I find that all I can say about that movie is, “What in the name of all the Ainur is Peter Jackson playing at?”  Another critic apparently called it Jackson’s fan fic, and I think that sums it up.  It’s excellent fan fiction - quite enjoyable, and with some elements that appeal to me very much - but it’s really not Tolkien’s story any more.  Like much fan fiction, it’s got some bits that I think a lot of fans will get a kick out of contemplating, but, like much fan fiction, it ranges in places from the slightly silly to the wildly ridiculous.  Fan authors seldom work as hard as the original author at logic, cohesive narrative, plausibility, or laws of science and nature.  Jackson certainly hasn’t.

        So enough of that.  Instead I’ll write today about a lesser-known story by Tolkien.  It’s not really a children’s story.  Indeed, Tolkien called Smith of Wootton Major “an old man’s book.”  Tolkien started writing it as an explanation of Faery which he intended to use in a preface to George MacDonald’s “The Golden Key.”  However, it grew into an entire story, first published in 1967, not only about the awe of Fairyland, but also with themes of imagination vs self-centeredness, and of the cycle of growing up, gaining wisdom, and eventually passing gifts on to the next generation.  The plot is simple, but embroidered out with many evocative little incidents and much description.  It’s not directly connected with Middle Earth, but shares with it some important qualities:
             It illustrates the same sort of attitude toward the wonders of Faery that Sam Gamgee feels toward the elves.
             It emphasizes the perilous power of Faery, as opposed to mere prettiness.
             It posits the dichotomy between those of open-eyed, open-hearted creative vision and those who want power and prestige without having to master hard work or true knowledge.  (Think of Gandalf vs Saruman and his orcs.)
             It’s about the cost of true knowledge, as opposed to blissful ignorance.  (Think of Strider and the Hobbits of the Shire.)
        I’m not crazy about the illustrations, which somehow manage to look very 60’s despite their medieval style, but I like this one of Smith and his family.

        In any case, Smith of Wootton Major is an interesting read reflecting a more traditional (as in medieval) view of Faery, tempered through a more modern romanticism.

[Picture: Smith and family, illustration by Pauline Baynes from Smith of Wootton Major by J.R.R. Tolkien, 1967.]

"Tales of the Night"

        Next up in my collection of animated fantasy movie reviews is "Tales of the Night" from 2011.  It sounds like a horror movie, but in fact it tells six folk tales in a way that's appropriate for relatively young children.  The set-up is that a girl, a boy, and an old man tell stories together in a small movie theater.  Although it's never mentioned explicitly, the theater itself must have magic or sci-fi powers, because it provides a machine with which the young people give themselves the costumes and hairstyles appropriate to each of the stories, as well as allowing them to put themselves into the scenery and take the roles of the protagonists of each tale.  For the most part, however, the interludes in the theater are just the string on which the six stories are strung as beads, and this string has no plot of its own.  (Apparently five of the six stories are taken from a French television series called "Dragons et princesses," which in its turn grew out of various previous series, so I don't know whether the bracketing set-up was ever given more attention in those programs.  I know I would have liked a little more conclusion to tie it all together at the end of the movie.)

        The most interesting thing is the animation style, in which all scenery and characters are black silhouettes against brightly colored backdrops.  The backdrops have different colors and styles based on the different settings, and the contrast with the black is quite beautiful and dramatic.  The silhouettes were perfectly effective at
portraying the moods and emotions of the characters.  P and T didn't seem to have strong feelings about it one way or the other, and I don't know whether younger children would enjoy the boldness or be bothered by the lack of realism.  My guess is that most kids will just take it as they find it.

        The six tales are set in medieval Europe, the West Indies, Aztec times, West Africa, Tibet, and medieval Europe again.  They are based on traditional tales, but with modifications to make them more palatable to the boy and girl of the theater (and, of course, the modern viewer.)  This is most explicit in the Tibetan tale, where the girl refuses to play the part of the girl in the story unless she can change the ending.  Because of the lack of detail in the animation, as well as the particular retellings, there is no graphic violence, however these tales do include plenty of threat of violence, and an awful lot of betrayal.  (Also, in the West African story it is evident that the women are topless.  It isn't exactly pornographic, and it didn't so much as raise an eyebrow in either the adults or the children of our family, but there it is in case it's of concern to others.)  In all the stories honesty and loyalty are rewarded, there's a recurring theme of being true to who you are, and in several of the stories non-violent solutions are found.

        All of these tales were new to me, and I enjoyed their range of sources.  Their fairly traditional format meant the plots were pretty predictable, which may seem boring to some children (or adults), but may also seem satisfyingly right and proper to others.  I wasn't bothered by it, but then, I'm a big fan of traditional fairy tales.  The final story did have a surprise twist ending, which we saw coming, but which children might really enjoy.

        I think this is one that could be shown to children in the 6-10 range.  One advantage at the lower end of the age range is that you could always show single stories or skip any of the stories that might be too scary or problematic for your particular child.  The first is one of the scarier ones, so if you're good with that one you should be fine for all of them (although the fifth is sadder).  Our favorite of the stories was definitely the second, in which a particularly jaunty hero gets through all his adventures with kindness instead of violence.  We all really enjoyed his interactions with the three hungry monsters (made even more appealing by their West Indian accents).

[Pictures: Movie poster;

Image from "The Doe-Girl and the Architect's Son";

Image from "Tijean and Belle-sans-connaitre", all from Tales of the Night, 2011, conceived and produced by Michel Ocelot.]

"Atlantis: the Lost Empire"

        Another animated children's fantasy movie my family watched a little while ago was Disney's "Atlantis: the Lost Empire."  This didn't get a huge amount of fanfare at release, and I was pretty much oblivious of it at the time, so perhaps this one isn't really on your radar, either.  I was predisposed in its favor since the main character, Milo Thatch, is a linguist at the Smithsonian.  Also, it was supposed to be unique

among Disney animated features in being inspired by Jules-Verne-type sci-fi adventures.  But while I found it enjoyable, I also found it very typical of Disney's style.  My summary: serviceable, nothing outstanding, but worth watching with children who need a movie that appeals to the imagination without being too intense.  Three and a half stars, B, mild thumbs-up… Take your pick of rating system.

        (Spoiler Alert: plot summary below.)

        Perhaps the most noticeable thing for D and me was the striking resemblance of the plot to that of "Avatar," (another movie known for pushing the use of CGI.)  It goes like this: a group of modern western humans discover an exotic civilization and, in their desire to exploit a natural resource of incredible power, threaten to destroy the civilization without regard to land or people.  However, the member of the human team in charge of interpreting the foreign culture falls in love with the scantily clad yet feisty native princess, and manages to pull together a team to defend her land in an exciting battle against superior force.  At the end all the humans leave except our hero, who stays behind to marry the princess.  Sound familiar?  The funny thing is, "Atlantis" was released in 2001, eight years before "Avatar," so it would be unfair to fault it for unoriginality - at least on that score.  (On the other hand, it did come after "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade," with which it shares a Grail Diary and a sexy blonde German-born second-in-command who falls to her death at the climax.)

        While "Atlantis" can't be accused of copying "Avatar," it certainly made plenty of use of standard tropes and clichés, including the modern white male who has to save the natives who are incapable of saving themselves, and the humble adventurer who wins the heart of the princess.  I have no objection to a judicious use of classic tropes - after all, they're classic for a reason - and I really don't fault "Atlantis" for following a somewhat clichéd story line as its basic outline.  The story satisfied P and T (who have not seen "Avatar"), and was also satisfactory to me in that caring about others was Good, the search for knowledge was Good, exploiting natural resources for greed was Bad, following your conscience and cooperating to stand up for what's right Saved the Day, Good triumphed, and True Love crowned it all.  Really, I'm never going to complain about that!  But nevertheless, I would have liked a few more unexpected twists along the way.

        As for the visual experience, I see that "Atlantis" was supposed to represent "the distinctive visual style of comic book creator Mike Mignola."  I know nothing of Mignola, and I'm no comic book aficionada, but I will say that the style of the characters did strike me -- it struck me as a jarring mish-mash of assorted disparate styles, as if different animators were in charge of different characters without any effort to bring them together into a cohesive look.  For example, Princess Kida looked like standard Disney, Helga Sinclair looked like "Aeon Flux," and Audrey the mechanic looked like she fell out of a Mario Brothers video game.  But there were fun steampunky vehicles, and the pretty scenery was clearly inspired by classical accounts of Atlantis, so that was cool.  (I plan to consider Atlantis itself another time.)

        As usual, I've listed my complaints, so I want to end with what we liked.  We liked that it was never too scary or graphically violent, but still had action.  We liked the set-up with the discovery of the lost, secret fantasy kingdom.  (I liked that linguistics was portrayed as Interesting and Useful.)  We liked Milo and Kida, and we especially liked the ensemble characters.  In fact, probably our favorite parts of the entire movie were the comic lines and interactions between some of the group of explorers.  We especially liked Dr Sweet, but our favorite of all was Vinny the demolitions expert and florist.

[Picture: "Atlantis" movie poster - I'm too lazy to try to track down the artist or artists responsible.  That's what they get for not doing block prints!]

"The Secret of Kells"

        Back in March our family watched "The Secret of Kells," an animated movie that came out in 2009 but which I'd only heard of in 2011, and didn't get around to watching until now.  We're a little behind the times, I guess.  At any rate, we enjoyed it, and found it refreshingly different from some of the more typical commercial animated movies.
        The plot is the story of how Brendan, a young boy at the Abbey of Kells, helps an older illuminator complete the Book of Kells, under the threat of Viking attacks, a dark pagan god, and the overprotective wrath of his uncle the abbot.  It certainly falls under the category of fantasy, with the involvement not only of the aforementioned god Crom Cruach, but also a magical forest spirit named Aisling.  But it could also be called a fantasia on the theme of Celtic illumination.

        The most noteworthy aspect of the movie is its visual style.  Heavily influenced by eighth century Celtic art, the scenes include design elements not only from the incredible illuminated pages of the Book of Kells, but also from other Celtic sources
such as the Insular style Ardagh Chalice and the La Téne style carved Turoe stone.  Notice, for example, the interlacing of the branches in the forest and how the snowflakes are all little Celtic knots.  Backgrounds include patterns of swirling spirals and interlacing, characters are heavily stylized, and the entire layout is drawn in a flat, perpective-less style.  I think there were times when it was too heavily stylized, especially for the kids, so that it was actually a little difficult to tell what we were looking at.  Also, the Vikings were rendered as such simple, stylized shapes that we called them yaks instead of Vikings!  But there's no doubt that the whole thing is a visual delight, immersive and beautiful to look at.  Indeed, one of the high points of the entire movie comes at the very end when the designs from actual pages from the Book of Kells are shown coming to life and moving.

        Having lived in Ireland for a year as a child, I've retained a particular interest in Irish history and culture, and my parents and I enjoyed the movie even more because of our recognition of certain elements.  For example, remembering our visits to real round towers with their doors built high up in the walls for protection brought an anchor of reality to a story that must seem wholly dream-like to P and T.  Plus, it's always fun to listen to the Irish accents for an hour.

        Because this is a relatively short movie (75 minutes) and because it's so stylized instead of photo-realistic, it should be okay for children of 8, but it's not without some pretty tense moments.  Also, between the accents and the sometimes surreal storytelling, younger children might not get much out of it.  It's probably more enjoyable for 10 and up, and may be one of those things that adults are actually going to like better than children.  P and T enjoyed it, but my parents enjoyed it even more!  I definitely recommend it for anyone with an interest in Irish history, art, and mythology.

        (You can see the official trailer here.)

[Pictures: Brendan and Aisling in the forest;

Abbot Cellach in front of the round tower;

Brendan and Aidan of Iona in the scriptorium, stills from "The Secret of Kells," art director Ross Stewart (images from Blu-ray.com).]

"The Hobbit" Movie Part I

        We went to the movie of the first part of "The Hobbit" a couple of weeks ago, but yesterday was J.R.R. Tolkien's birthday, so the time is clearly right for me to post my review now.  (Beware, if there's anyone reading this who doesn't know how the book or movie goes, there may be Spoilers…)

        I have to begin by saying that on first hearing that director Peter Jackson was going to milk out The Hobbit into three long movies, the same length as the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy, my initial reaction was disgust.  I still think it reeks of self-indulgence and greed.  But that said, our whole family did absolutely enjoy watching "The Hobbit Part I," so while I would have preferred that Jackson had made some different decisions, he certainly did a good job over-all.

        I would divide Jackson's changes from Tolkien into two main categories: those intended to tie "The Hobbit" more to "The Lord of the Rings" movies that are already made, and those intended to be more cinematic in some way.  In the first category are the representation of Gollum's split personality and the blurred effect Bilbo sees when he puts on the ring.  Neither of these is present at all in Tolkien's descriptions in the book, but they make sense for consistency with The Lord of the Rings.  I also rather like the idea of including some of the stuff that never appears in the book, but which we know is happening off-stage during that same time, such as the conversations among the wizards and elves.  ('Though all the rigamarole with Radagast was eons longer than it should have been in a movie that claimed to need so much extra time.  And the slapsticky eye-crossing schtick was just stupid.  Also, I don't think quite so much time need have been lavished on past battles.)  However, on the whole, I did not object to this category of changes, even though they rather altered the tone of the movie.

        The thing is, The Hobbit is a children's book, drawing heavily on folk tales, humor, and whimsy.  It has a very different tone from The Lord of the Rings, which draws on the more epic mythology, legends, and histories intended for adults.  Of course, The Hobbit itself changes tone somewhat over the course of its own length, starting with the rather self-consciously childish description of the Hobbit hole and ending with epic battle, betrayal, and redemption that looks a lot more like Lord of the Rings -- so getting the right tone was going to be a tough balancing act for anyone trying to film it.  But there's no doubt that Jackson has chosen to make "The Hobbit" into a serious chapter in a serious epic rather than a cute children's adventure, so anyone considering taking young children to this movie should definitely reconsider.

        I was a lot less happy with the decisions Jackson made merely to make filming easier or to conform to box office fashions.  For example, take the battle of the stone giants in the Misty Mountains.  Tolkien wrote four sentences mentioning this (and it wasn't even a battle but a game between the giants).  It was not, in his story, a major action sequence.  His party of travelers was not riding the giants, who did not look like shaley Transformers, there were no screaming dwarves being swung all over having hairsbreadth escapes, with crashes and smashes that defied all survival odds, and major percentages of the landscape being hurled into abysses so that the entire mountain range would have to be redrawn on all the maps…  But Jackson spent at least ten minutes on all these shenanigans, in a movie that could easily have been ten minutes shorter.  Clearly this whole sequence was a kiss-up to demands for more action sequences.   And then the entire goblins' kingdom was wrong wrong wrong!  Tolkien's goblins live in tunnels hewn through rock: dark, twisty, low tunnels.  They do not live in an airy filigree of rope bridges and wooden platforms suspended in a cavern that hollows the entire interior of the mountain.  Now, I do understand that logistically it's difficult to film much of anything in dark, low tunnels, and especially difficult to film chases, fights, and lots of action.  But I don't care!  If you're such a genius director then figure it out!  Goblins live in tunnels, darn it!

        One last complaint: in Jackson's version we see the Ring fall from Gollum's finger, and Bilbo picks it up immediately after.  I'm not quite sure whether or not we're supposed to think that Bilbo saw the Ring fall and knew that Gollum was its owner, but even the slightest shade of ambiguity on this point changes the story radically.  One of the main reasons the Ring had so little ability to corrupt Bilbo over the years he held it was that he had not stolen or killed for it as so many others had before him.  But if you see someone drop a valuable and you deliberately pick it up and keep it for yourself, that's simply stealing, which is wholly contrary to the spirit of Bilbo's relationship with the Ring and with Gollum.

        Those are my main complaints (T complained that the dwarves didn't enter each with their differently colored hooded cloak, but that's probably only because she'd just reread the beginning and it was fresh in her mind.)  Let me end with some praise.  As with the other "Lord of the Rings" movies, "The Hobbit" is absolutely beautiful.  From the landscapes to the props, everything has been meticulously designed and filmed.  The acting was excellent (with the exception of Radagast).  Thorin is younger and handsomer than I always imagined, but he has a palpable enough charisma that you can really understand the loyalty and love he inspires, which I always found a little weak in the book.  But most importantly, the movie successfully evokes that thrill of adventure, that curiosity for the stories of interesting characters in an epic world, and that awe at the beauty and peril of fantasy, that The Hobbit has ignited in so many readers.  And for that, despite my disagreements with some of Jackson's choices, it's a wonderful movie.

[Pictures: Chapter heading (An Unexpected Party), pen and ink by David Wyatt from The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien, Collins Modern Classics edition, 1998 (Image from H.O.B.B.I.T.I.S.H.);

Over Hill and Under Hill, pen and ink by Eric Fraser from The Hobbit, Folio Society edition, 2001 (Image from Babel Hobbits).]