Sunday, December 28, 2003
Return of the King of Rock
Like hell I wasn’t going to see The Return of the King on a big screen. I’ve missed most every big-screen extravaganza to hit theaters since last year’s The Two Towers, which so profoundly repaid my investment in the cost of a ticket that I knew I’d pay whatever they asked for the privilege of watching this eye-popping epic as it was meant to be seen - in horizon-scraping hugeness with deafening volume and big cushy seats. Actually, eyes popping was about the only kind of hideous disfigurement I didn’t see happening during the three-movie series, which I deem fully satisfactory. I would not presume to add my feeble review of this film to those already festooning the world wide web; anyone who wants to know if it’s a good movie or not has enough resources to check without my clogging the information highway further. Rather, I’d like to take this opportunity simply to reflect on the phenomenon of ROTK and the whole LOTR filmic saga. Why? BECAUSE I CANNOT SHUT MY MOUTH EVEN WHEN THERE IS NOTHING REMOTELY WORTH SAYING.
* These movies should come with a warning for persons, like myself, with occasional sciatica. We watched the extended DVD of Two Towers on Thursday night and then caught the first show of ROTK on Friday morning, and for the next two days my butt felt like someone was trying to set fire to my deeply-buried nerves with a dowel-and-string friction firestarter. I’m going to do hot yoga for the first time this afternoon to see if I can loosen that cord that’s connecting my lower back to my hamstring with a bolt of soreness and a tidy knot of actual pain. Yes, the movies were worth it. I just should have taken an inflatable donut cushion and some vicodan. You know, just for safety. Oh, maybe a little bit for entertainment but that doesn’t really count.
* I’ve never seen a movie before ROTK that was so full of scenes of men who looked like they were about to lock lips with each other. Okay, maybe I’m under-exposed to gay porn, but about 20% of ROTK seemed to be about guys sitting really close to each other, gazing into each other’s eyes, expressing true fidelity and kinship. That’s “middle earth talk” for the hunger that dare not speak it’s name. At the end of the film you’ve got Magneto chuckling paternally as four adorable fresh-faced hobbits cavort in a big luxurious bed. Sir Ian seemed to be enjoying it just a little too much for family fare, if you ask me. The way they were carrying on, you’d think this “ring” of which they speak was another sort altogether. But I’m not judging.
* In one of my several debriefing conferences after seeing ROTK, after numerous bottles of wine and other stimulants to conversation had been roundly enjoyed, we began to discuss “Sting,” the elvin blade that Frodo carried, which glows blue in the presence of orks. We started by discussing how little exposition was dedicated to the history of this cool weapon. Then someone suggested that the movie would have been better if, rather than carrying the sword, Sting himself had gone along with the heroic hobbits - after all, he is a good digger. Then we realized that the truly exciting movie didn’t feature an elvin blade - it featured Elvis’ blade, or, even better, Elvis and Blade. If those two had accompanied the Fellowship of the Ring we’d have had a seriously exciting movie on our hands. I guess that’s for the sequel.
* File under “Great ideas from great movies:” The reservoir-tip battlehelmet. In the heat and excitement of battle, when every moment could be your last, you can’t be wasting time looking around for basic protection. I’m expecting these to come out in a variety of colors, though obviously purple is going to be the industry standard. “A purple helmet for your warrior” is an ad slogan that we’ve been waiting for too long. I have, anyway.
Now, next time you go to a movie with me, at least you’ll know why I’m giggling all the time at inappropriate things… I won’t even tell you what I thought of White Oleander. But man, there were some good laughs in that flick…
