The Lord of the Rings

Pixel Pirate wrote: And with that caustic comment on the impoverishment of modern culture,I'm out of here for the weekend. And perhaps even longer than that,who knows?

Come back Pixie. Cheer up old son.Dont fight fights you cant win!

For Lovecraft fans (and sad old Call of Cthulhu players), I reckon the best attempt at translating the Mythos (in flavour) to the screen has to be the 1957/8 film Night of the Demon with Dana Andrews.

PLOT: American psychologist John Holden, a determined sceptic of the paranormal, arrives in London for a conference only to find his colleague Professor Henry Harrington is dead. Some of Harrington's friends believe that Harrington had a demonic curse placed on him because he was attempting to expose Satanist Julian Karswell, but Holden dismisses the notion. However as Holden encounters Karswell, he experiences a series of frightening phenomena which leave him uncertain as to whether they are real or just in his imagination. He then discovers that Karswell has passed him a piece of paper which contains a runic curse that will bring about his death in three days time unless he can pass the piece of paper onto someone else.

it's not Lovecraft but owes a lot to old HP and is an excellent little horror flick. Highly recommended. It's available on DVD as far as I know. Check it out on IMDB

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0050766/

as far as trilogies go, I'd love to see Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials books being filmed. For one thing it would drive Christian fundamentalists crazy as Lyra and her cohorts attempt to kill God. And these are children's books? Metaphysics, Physics, History, Victoriana, Natural History, Comparative Theology all wrapped up a in a tale of a girl and her demon. Brilliant.

Pixel Pirate wrote: Reed Lover wrote: Pixel Pirate wrote: And with that caustic comment on the impoverishment of modern culture,I'm out of here for the weekend. And perhaps even longer than that,who knows? Come back Pixie. Cheer up old son.Dont fight fights you cant win! It's probably the Friday blues. The working week takes it out of me to such an extent that come Friday I feel like a sack of rotten potatoes and a gloomy disposition and sour mood are soon to follow. But I'll be back! But not until Monday though,I'm seeing my girlfriend in the weekend and we haven't seen each other for some time so we have quite a lot of catching up to do. And "Lord Of The Rings" is probably allright if one likes that kind of thing.

Now that's more like Pixie.

BTW sl*g off Lord Of The Rings once more and I will break your legs!

Night of The Demon is indeed a great film. I think Kate Bush sampled a line from it for her song 'Big Sky'...Through the trees...It's comming.

BTW, if you like your ghost stories slightly disturbing, I recommend M R James. I rewarding if dark journey into the depths of terror...

Amazon review:

Mr James was born in 1862. He was the son of a clergyman. He became a biblical scholar and vice-chancellor of Cambridge University. So you might expect from his life and his writing style that his stories are sedate things that the Victorian reader could read without too much upset. They would be free of troubling undertones, macabre inages, they would be comforting.

You'd be dreadfully wrong. The first story in this collection is Lost Hearts, a brutal and twisted story of scholarly detatchment, unethical experiments and gory murder. Going through the book we discover other classics showing just how physically and mentally violent James' imagination could be. There's the desperate attempt to shake the curse in Casting the Runes, the deadening claustrophobia of The Stalls of Barchester Cathedral, and the final story, Wailing Well, stuns the reader by beginning as a comedy and ending so blackly that few Hollywood horror films, shall we say, would dare to film it as written.

This is not sedate. It has an undeniable power that lingers after the book has been shut. I would actually put it above Lovecraft. There are weak points, it must be said; several times stories don't seem to get going before they end, creating a sense of anticlimax. But this does not detract from the achievements made in the other stories, and it's not going to stop me giving the collection five stars.

There's no doubt that Jackson did an amazing job with the trilogy..who could expect anything less of a kiwi director? It's understandable why numerous parts of the book were omitted- Bombadil and Ghan for example...they just didn't have significant impact on the main plot. Including the scouring of the Shire would have dragged out the far too long ending even further...it was all nicely summed up when wormtongue knifed saruman and was then subsequently shot (Saruman should have disappeared in the puff of smoke however). And there were of course, numerous unneccesary bits- legolas and his fascination with uruk-hai shields and murmakils, gimli being a fool, the "dress up as a pirate" scene in the extended version and the Mouth of Sauron GETTING BEHEADED.

But Jackson should be proud of this adaptation of a great trilogy, and Tolkien's ghost can rest easy knowing now that Disney will NEVER get a hold on it.

The Darkest Hour

(the lost chapter of Lord of the Rings)

The battle raged.  Blood and pain were the order of the day.  The sky was dark and filled with malice, the ground bloodsoaked.  Death and anguish and suffering were everywhere.  Orc heads lay scattered, Men and Elves were dying left and right.  The bodies continued to pile up.  Many who were still alive wished they were dead, if only to shut out the nightmare of the scene before them.

Suddenly, a loud trumpet call was heard, and the Black Gate opened with dark foreboding.  A chill wind blew out from the Gate, passing over the battlefield, sending shivers through those still alive.  The fighting ebbed, the trumpet call having had an overwhelming and immediate effect on all present, even the Dark Warriors.  An eerie calm gripped the scene.  All eyes were on the Gate, expecting the worst - though none could imagine what that might be.  Out of the Gate emerged a wraith on a huge black horse, a messenger from Sauron.  He called out in a voice which belied his size, an ominous voice which seemed to penetrate the air and fill the entire space between earth and sky.

"I seek he who is called Gandalf.  Does he yet live?"

After a few moments, a robed figure stepped out from behind a rock wall.  Gandalf looked drawn and tired, a shadow of his former self.  The battle weighed heavily on him, his magical skills being strained to their utmost limits in an effort to keep Sauron's forces from completely ravaging the lesser forces of Middle Earth who had gathered together against their enemy in a final attempt to destroy him.  Gandalf spoke quietly, yet with an air of one in command.

"I am he.  What do you want, messenger of evil?"

"My master, Sauron, would have parley with you - but only alone."

Gandalf looked back at Aragorn, who was standing to Gandalf's left behind the wall, and raised one eyebrow in an evident sign of surprise.  Aragorn made no reply, verbal or otherwise, and maintained a firm, but solemn, countenance.  Gandalf looked back at the wraith.

"I have been behind his black doors once, and have suffered greatly for it.  Does he now expect me to trust him?"

"You speak wisely, wizard.  However, while there are those who would call my master evil, he swears that you will leave unharmed, no matter the outcome of the parley.  I have brought the mark of his signet as proof," and with that, the wraith approached Gandalf and handed him a slip of black paper.

The paper had a discomforting texture, and Gandalf quickly realized that it was made from human skin.  The paper had been marked in red with a signet on it - the seal of Sauron. The wax was still warm.

"Give me a moment," Gandalf said, as he slipped back into the shadows.  After a few moments of discussion with Aragorn and others of his company, Gandalf came forward again.

"Go tell Sauron that I will see him if it means an end to this hopeless and unnecessary violence."

"That is not necessary, master Gandalf: follow me."  With that, the wraith turned and retreated slowly toward the Black Gate.  Gandalf hesitated slightly.  Aragorn walked up behind Gandalf, put a hand on his shoulder, and spoke.

"If ever a trap was laid, Gandalf, this is the blackest.  Do not go into that evil place from which no living thing escapes.  No good can come of it.  It is certain death."

Gandalf looked toward the Black Gate, and then squarely at Aragorn.  "So was the cursed Balrog of Moria."  Gandalf sighed quietly and seemed to reflect.  "No, I am not afraid.  The wraith speaks true - though the embodiment of evil, Sauron honors his signet."  Gandalf paused another moment in thought, and seemed to find a new strength and resolve.  "Besides, I may be able to get some information on our lost friends.  I will go."  And with that, Gandalf followed the messenger inside, and the dreaded Black Gate closed with a loud, metallic clang.

Gandalf was led to a room, dim-lit and round, with a vaulted ceiling.  In the center of the room was a table, also round, with space enough for eight.  On the table stood a red candle, burning solemnly.  Seated at the table, with his back to the door, was the unmistakable figure of Sauron.  The collar of his cape was up, and his hands were folded on the table.  He seemed relaxed, indeed arrogantly confident.  Gandalf walked across the room and sat opposite The Enemy.

"Welcome, Gandalf the White.  Long it has been since last we spoke."  Sauron spoke softly, with only a hint of menace.

"Not long enough, Sauron the Unnameable.  Come to the point; my patience grows thin."

"Now, now, Gandalf, let us not be hasty.  We both want an end to the violence that surrounds us.  This is easily attained, but it will mean giving in a little - on both sides."

"Sauron, your words are twisted.  Get to the point or I shall leave and continue battle against you."  Gandalf's attack was deliberate and purposeful - it was best to keep the enemy on the defensive, especially an enemy as powerful, dangerous and unpredictable as Sauron.

"I have something you want, Gandalf, and you have something I want.  I propose a trade, and I will throw in something extra for your troubles."  Gandalf's serious expression did not change, but inside he smiled.  Sauron did not yet have the Ring and, better yet, did not know where it was and thought that he, Gandalf, knew, or even possessed it.  Gandalf spoke, showing no emotion.

"I know what you want from me, Sauron the Corrupt, but what do you have that I could possibly want?"

"This," Sauron said commandingly, snapping his fingers loudly and gesturing toward the door.  The door opened, and a wraith came in carrying what looked like a small bundle of rags. As he got closer, Gandalf could see that this bundle contained a figure, thin and bare.  The figure was brought before Gandalf, and placed in the light of the red candle.  It was Frodo.  He did not stir. Gandalf got up quickly from his chair and bent over Frodo, checking his general condition, which was not good.  He looked back at Sauron with blazing eyes:

"You barbarian!," cried Gandalf, "Have you no pity?  He is near dead, as I can tell.  Why have you harmed him?"  Sauron sat calmly at the table, unmoved.  He spoke in a slow, deliberate manner.

"He is a hobbit.  What is more, he is a Baggins.  We thought he had my Ring, but we stripped him and found nothing.  He is not badly damaged, though he could have been, simply for entering my domain; the penalty for spying in Mordor is death."  He stopped and looked directly at Gandalf, who had seated himself back at the table.

"I will give him back to you in return for the Ring," Sauron hissed through an arrogant smile.  Gandalf could hold himself back no longer.  He stood up suddenly and looked icily at Sauron.

"No deal!," Gandalf cried.  "You will rot, Sauron, and your bones will be picked by vultures.  You will never get the Ring: not from me, nor from any of my company.  I would rather chance wielding it myself than give it to you.  No, you will not have it!"  With that, Gandalf rose and headed for the door, ending up behind Sauron.  Sauron stood abruptly without turning, raised his right hand and shouted:

"Wait!  You have not heard my whole bargain!  You may still learn to respect me." Gandalf turned non-committally and took two steps toward the table.  He remained there, staring coldly at Sauron's back, waiting.  Sauron turned slowly and spoke:

"Along with the hobbit, I will give you Minis Tirith and three thousand acres in all directions around it, including the Fields of Rohan.  However, if any of your people are found within the boundaries of Mordor, they are subject to death without question.  But the land around Minis Tirith and the town itself are yours.  All I want is the Ring."  Sauron stopped. Gandalf was staring at him with a penetrating glance.  Gandalf seemed about to speak, but Sauron cut in.

"I see that you are concerned about my intentions regarding the Ring."  He stopped again and looked at Gandalf with the most incredible expression on his gaunt face.  It was an expression of power and greed mixed with weariness and - Gandalf could scarcely believe it - respect; it was a bizarre and unnerving expression that made even Gandalf's calm spirit shudder.

"Gandalf, you and I both know the ultimate power that the Ring possesses.  It would be foolish of me to think otherwise.  In fact, we are two of an extremely small group who truly understand the implications of all that now goes on around us.  It is true that with the Ring, there is nothing that I could not do, have or command.  All living creatures would answer to me, and I would be the undisputed Master of Middle Earth.  You are worried that the bargain that I strike now, in this room, will mean nothing once the Ring is in my possession.  That is clear and correct thinking."  Sauron paused.  He seemed to be reconsidering what he was about to say.  Gandalf could not explain the weariness he saw in Sauron's hollow face.  Nor could he explain the feeling of pity that came over him as he stood facing his greatest enemy, the greatest enemy that Middle Earth had ever known.

"The only thing I can offer you as proof of my good intentions is my signet.  I will allow you, or he whom you designate as Master of Minis Tirith, to possess my signet.  In this way there would be a balance.  You would be powerless against my possession of the Ring, and I would be beholden to you to transact business, as you would have my only signet.  And do not forget that you have the Palantirs of both Isengard and Minis Tirith - wielded by one such as you, Gandalf, they are a formidable defense."  He paused. "What say you, Gandalf the White?"

The words were honey to Gandalf's ears.  But Gandalf had long ago lost his sweet tooth. He knew that any other - yes, perhaps even Aragorn - would be helpless against the anaesthetic and pacifying content of this single short monologue.  Lesser men would cry for joy at these words, while others, like Aragorn, would simply be too astonished to gainsay and reject such an offer.

But Gandalf was not any other.  And he was glad now that he had decided to accept Sauron's invitation.  Because by inviting Gandalf, Sauron had made a devastating mistake; indeed, he had made three of them.

His first mistake was admitting that he didn't have the Ring, and believing that Gandalf might.  The second was to have spared Frodo, for this was proof to Gandalf that there was still great hope for Middle Earth.  And now Sauron had made the mistake of meeting with one of the few individuals in Middle Earth who could not be swayed by honeyed words and promises.  Had Sauron chosen to meet with Aragorn, or with any other of the company, the outcome for Middle Earth might have been very different - and infinitely more dreadful.

Gandalf stood reflectively, staring coldly at Sauron.  His aspect had changed tremendously during this short parley; no longer was he the Gandalf the White that Sauron had mockingly called him - old, bent and tired.  He was revealed as the true Gandalf the White; a wizard with great knowledge, strength - and power.  Gandalf knew what his next course of action must be, and he knew that his reply to Sauron had to be perfectly worded and delivered in order to have the maximum effect.

Gandalf slowly closed his eyes and pretended to be thinking.  He then re-opened them, looked directly at Sauron, and took a deliberate, commanding step toward him, seeming to grow taller and stronger.  Then he spoke in a strong, slow, deliberate manner, making sure that each word was clear.

"Sauron, you are evil.  You have always been, and always will be.  I will not strike bargains with evil people, no matter how well-intentioned."  He paused for effect.  "Now, will you see me out?"

Sauron stood almost dumfounded after Gandalf's short speech, and had to forcibly compose himself.  Then he spoke, his voice checked, but full of venom.

"You know not what you do, Gandalf the Fool!  It is not every day that Sauron bargains, for if Sauron wants, Sauron takes!  I have offered more than I should have and all I get back are unkind words."  He looked menacingly at the wizard.

"Gandalf, you have sealed your doom, and the doom of all who attack my fortress.  You may go, but be wary: I strike hard."

Sauron and Gandalf faced each other for a few seconds; Sauron coldly, Gandalf with an expression of pity.  Suddenly the door opened, and a wraith walked in, apparently to lead Gandalf out.  Gandalf turned on his heels and walked out the door, the wraith following.  Gandalf was led out of the Tower and down to the Black Gate.

All was quiet when Gandalf stepped out.  The fighting had ceased for a time, the various armies collecting themselves for the next great onslaught.  Death was everywhere.  Gandalf was greeted by Aragorn and his company, but they were not happy.

"What says Sauron, Gandalf?," Aragorn asked solemnly, though he was both pleased and surprised that Gandalf had returned.

"He has Frodo," spoke Gandalf softly.  Aragorn gasped.  The others looked at each other in hopeless despair.

"But," added Gandalf, "He does not have The Ring."  Aragorn looked at Gandalf with a puzzled expression.

"How can that be?," asked Aragorn.

"It may be that Frodo lost it during his journey."  Gandalf shuddered to think about this. Aragorn gave him an anguished look.  Gandalf responded with a small, sly smile.

"However, I believe he may have given it to Sam in a moment of danger.  That would explain why they have Frodo, but not Sam.  Let us hope that Master Gamgee has a strong heart and a stronger spirit."

Aragorn and the rest of the company seemed hopelessly lost by this idea, and Gandalf's reasoning.  But Gandalf just looked at him and smiled ‑ his first real smile in weeks.

"Sauron has not won yet," he said.

is there any doubt that maani is teh r0x0r?

I won't quote the lengthy post, but he hit many nails on the head. The films' grandeur was diminished by countless disappointing details...and maani summed up many of them.

Thanks for the glimpse into your writing life, too! My only criticism is that I can't see Tolkien's Gandalf saying "No deal!"...although I could almost see Jackson's Gandalf saying it...just before he forged a pair of sunglasses and rode a surfboard to Valinor. 

But if you think Tolkien suffered on the big screen, just imagine what they'd do with poor Titus and Fuschia! Peake's characters were purposefully homely, morbid, and nearly unlovable (which is mainly why I love them!) and by the time Hollywood was through, it would look like a gothic episode of "The O. C."

You know what I mean Clown?????

Well , , to you too!