Considering the mediocre year that 2003 has had at its movie theaters, there should probably be heralds playing trumpets at every showing of Peter Jackson's LORD OF THE RINGS: THE RETURN OF THE KING. It is, without question, magnificent filmmaking, made moreso when contrasted with the limpid, inconsequential company it shares at this multiplexed moment in time. So let the banners unfurl and the criers proclaim it to be true: director/co-writer Peter Jackson has finished the greatest film series of our time with a rollicking, battle-heavy saga of passion, and it does not disappoint fans or newcomers in dramatic tension or blockbuster savvy. It is, like its two predecessors, a dreamy marriage of myth and special effects, of great literature and popcorn entertainment...and thanks to New Line, the studio that launched the series on a mighty gamble two years ago, one of great art and profitable commerce.

Huzzah, huzzah, huzzah. Now that that's out of the way, one can address THE RETURN OF THE KING on its own terms, separate from its certain place in pop-cultural history. There are many strengths to this last installment chroncling the journeys of Middle Earth's valiant warriors; indeed, if Jackson's Fellowship of the Ring was episodic, and The Two Towers was epic, the best descriptor of THE RETURN OF THE KING might be "heroic." For this time out honor, courage, allegiance, and valor are the currencies of the realm; previous concerns, like goodness and the soul's health, are skimmed rather than explored. There's battles to get to, final stands to make, and things for even the secondary characters to prove to themselves and others. (There's not even time to check in with the Ents of The Two Towers, nor the major baddie of the series, Christopher Lee's Saruman, who doesn't appear at all.) The end result of this subtextual switch in focus has a disquieting dual effect. It makes THE RETURN OF THE KING a more viscerally enjoyable experience for the audience, but it simultaneously loses the gravity and depth of its predecessors. It is more AND less at the same time.

Most of the strengths that audiences connected to in Jackson's fantastical universe are still evident. There's great acting on display, from players both expected (Ian McKellen returns to the fore triumphantly) and unexpected (Sean Astin steals the film with the heartbreaking Samwise Gamgee). The art direction and cinematography retain their ability to shock and awe, and the New Zealand landscape continues to argue that the country may be the most grandly beautiful place on the planet. Despite its excellence, however, the weaknesses in KING are a bit more glaring than in Towers or Fellowship. Most troubling is the sappily indulgent finale, with no less than five separate endings in a row, some of which show a dismaying sentimentality that borders on excess. Furthermore, storylines begin to lose their edge and bite; after enthralling us in Towers, the Gollum/Frodo storyline stagnates in a repetitiveness that underscores just how hard it is to dramatize climbing over rocks. (Yes, Peter, we get that Gollum is duplicitious and dual-personalitied; you can stop telling us after the fourth sneering scene.)

To you, gentle reader, I offer up my own ambivalence about myself; I'm of the opinion that these criticisms may be questionable. Certainly, after three serialized years with these characters, one has the right to question one's own critique. Watching KING, one cannot help but wonder if we have, at long last, become inured to the charms of Middle Earth. Are these just minor quibbles we're finding in a masterpiece, or major problems that tarnish KING's halo significantly? Were these flaws less evident when everything was new in Fellowship...or were they simply not there in the first (and best) film of the series? Would these missteps drag a lesser film down...or does Jackson's cinematic flair occlude the structural issues? There are no clear answers to these questions, but I do hope that, in honorific retrospectives and film history classes in years to come, they are debated at great length. Certainly LORD OF THE RINGS deserves no less.

Enough about legacy. There are two moments that will take your breath away (three, really, if you count "Into The West", the willowy, piercingly sad song performed by Annie Lennox over the film's end credits.) The first is a battle -- a slaughter, really -- of the vastly outnumbered men of Gondor. Over it, the hobbit Pippin (Billy Boyd) sings a plaintive melody that transforms the scene, and the movie, for just a few moments. Suddenly, we are transported from the secular to the sacred. The violence reaches operatic heights, and the emotions bubble over the screen. The struggle to overcome becomes an intensely human one, and it is simply transcendant.

The second is...well, it involves Frodo, when he inevitable reaches the fiery pits of Mount Doom. I hate it when people ruin movies for me, so I won't do so now, but suffice it to say that the battle for Frodo's soul, played with wide-eyed fluidity by Eljah Wood, climaxes in unexpected ways. The soul is a precarious thing, unpredictable; Tolkein knew it, and so does Jackson. If you don't have a lump in your throat, one might be inclined to ask where you've misplaced your soul.

There's no rule that masterpieces must be flawless; as an jeweler will tell you, a diamond can often be made more beautiful by its peculiarities. And in an imperfect year, an imperfect masterpieces fits the bill just fine. The lesson, if any, that THE RETURN OF THE KING imparts is that heroes are rare, forged from flesh and shaped by destiny. And great kings, those unforgettable leaders of men, are rarer still. Luckily, we've had three fabulous years of both. Flawed? Sure...like life itself. If no one's mentioned it, Peter...thank you.

-- Gabriel Shanks

Read Jill's review of THE RETURN OF THE KING

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