The Last Word on LOTR.

(It probably won’t be the last word, but it sounds good.)

I’ve decided I was wrong to criticise Lord of the Rings the way I did. It isn’t that I think I was wrong in the particulars of what I said, more that I was wrong to identify them as fit grounds for criticism.

A film like LOTR isn’t supposed to be about realism, fine detail and in-depth character analysis. It’s an epic fantasy, and does superbly well what the best of epic fantasies should do: it extols the highest ideals and capabilities to which the human spirit, on this level at least, can aspire. It gives us courage, fortitude, justice, high-mindedness, and love in all its varieties. It gives us scenes of mass conflict in which the human heart is moved to o’erleap its normal limitations in the right cause.

And so the charge of the Rohirrim at the Battle of the Pellinor Fields might not be entirely realistic, but my God it rouses the blood of the believer. I’d say it’s the best I’ve seen in any film. The bearing and eyes of the King alone put it into a class apart; it even knocks my erstwhile favourite El Cid into a cocked hat.

Maybe that’s why the film won’t leave me alone. It’s taken hold of me as it appears to have taken hold of so many millions of other ardent fans. In my case, it seems the spirit of the piece is demanding justice and an apology. Well, it has mine.

Sorry Mel (and anybody else I might have offended.) You were right to call me an imp. I stand corrected.