Last week, an American critic described Peter Jackson’s take on Tolkien’s 1937 novel as “strenuously faithful”. I beg to disagree.
My mum read The Hobbit to me. I read it, in turn, to my daughter Ada. It’s a great story, scratchy and sardonic; having enjoyed The Lord of the Rings trilogy, I was optimistic about Jackson’s chances of bringing the whole thing to life.
Twelve months ago, Ada and I watched the trailer, which contains a peskily stirring rendition of Misty Mountains Cold. We couldn’t wait to see the film. An hour into the real thing, we couldn’t wait for it to end.
This is the first of three films. Instead of starting with Bilbo and Gandalf, we’re thrown into a prologue which puts the anguish of royal dwarf Thorin Oakenshield (Richard Armitage) centre stage.
All the plot additions seem to demand capital letters. Thorin is Valorous and in need of a Homeland. He, his men and Bilbo (Martin Freeman; likeable) set out on their journey. It transpires that Evil is on the rise. An orc-chief is out to get them. He’s Bad...
Thank God for Andy Serkis’s motion-capture Gollum. Looking cuter than in LoTR, this crab-like creature dwells in the precarious universe of the solipsistic child — a place full of imaginary friends and out-of-reach toys. Gleeful, gloating, doomed.
Snap judgments regarding the trilogy are probably unwise. The next two instalments may be better. All one can say for now: at least Jackson stayed true to Gollum.
Well ... I think Boys might like this
I usually like scary films (I loved The Hunger Games and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part II). But there was so much fighting in this and I got especially sick of that orc leader, Azog. He looks a bit like Voldemort, but nothing he said was very dramatic.
I liked the elf princess. She had a silvery voice. But she didn’t do much. Probably boys will like this. Can I give it a star rating? I give it two and a half stars. Do I want to see The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug? No, thank you.
Ada O’Sullivan, aged 8
