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You could legitimately refer to 2003 as the Year of the Trilogy. Or at least a year in which an inordinate number of filmmakers tried their hand at producing a series' third film which could rival the two before it. In Terminator 3: The Rise of the Machines and Scary Movie 3, we saw entertaining franchise extensions. In American Wedding and Spy Kids 3-D: Game Over we saw pleasant repackagings of their predecessors. And in The Matrix Revolutions, we experienced the potential for bitter disappointment which all epic conclusions carry. Disappointment which, perhaps, caused many to fear a similar dropoff from Peter Jackson.
But let it be known that of the half-dozen prominent third installments to be released this year, only The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King stands unequivocally firm beside its foregoers, even surpassing them on some levels.
Like the first two films, The Return of the King opens on a strong note, introducing us to Smeagol (played by Andy Serkis, the same actor who provided the voice and movements for Gollum) as he was before becoming the haggard addict we met in The Two Towers. We get to witness his transformation step-by-step, and when juxtaposed with Frodo, the current ring-bearer, it makes for a worry and tension which hold all the way through to the film's climax.
This tension is helped along by the film's graceful editing, which almost always seems to cut from one storyline to another at the right time. This may be the most important (but also the most subtle) difference between the second and third films, as The Two Towers killed a fair amount of the tension at Helm's Deep in cutting away from it too early, and too often. Couple this improvement with several virtually consecutive battles far more grandiose in size and scope than anything in the first two films, and the result is captivating.
The effects are also by far the most seamless of the trilogy, matching wide or sweeping CGI shots of armies or landscapes perfectly with their closeup counterparts (most notably in a sequence following Gandalf overhead on horseback through the roads of Minas Tirith). And, more importantly, Jackson takes advantage of the flexibility this gives him, presenting us with dozens upon dozens of shots which would be breathtaking as still frames alone.
The music needs no description. Indeed, no adequate description could be written. Howard Shore's score may very well earn him a second Oscar. The emotional impact of some scenes depends almost entirely on the background music; most notably the beacon-lighting sequence, whose music and vistas make for a powerful combination.
It would do no good to detail the battle sequences, except to say that they are colder, harsher, far more brutal, and far more exhilarating than any others in the series of films. Some of the on-screen deaths will likely disturb you, but Jackson knows this, and uses it to his advantage to help mentally place us on the battlefield. More often than not, you'll find yourself empathizing greatly with the horror, anger, and motivation of the characters on screen. You've seen the same horrors of battle that they have, and so their loyalty and courage is that much more believable.
I've saved commentary on the film's ending for my own; much ado has been made of the fact that, several times within the film's last 20 minutes, the film appears about to end, but does not. Admittedly, it does go on too long, and there's little doubt that those involved possessed the skill to summarize plots and economize screen time more efficiently, but very little of it could have been removed without robbing the audience of the closure that such a trilogy demands.
If the ending feels rushed, it is thanks, in part, to some scenes earlier which could've done with a bit more frugality. Certain subplots (the seeming insanity of Denethor during the film's centerpiece battles, for example) could have been eliminated altogether, thus freeing up more time for the things that Jackson could not have removed and still lived to tell about.
Ultimately, these flaws are more than forgivable in light of the tremendous depth of the story, and the unrivaled skill which went into bringing it to life. The praises of "greatest trilogy of all time" may be premature, but they are by no means ridiculous. The Return of the King may also be the return of the unbridled Hollywood epic.
But let it be known that of the half-dozen prominent third installments to be released this year, only The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King stands unequivocally firm beside its foregoers, even surpassing them on some levels.
Like the first two films, The Return of the King opens on a strong note, introducing us to Smeagol (played by Andy Serkis, the same actor who provided the voice and movements for Gollum) as he was before becoming the haggard addict we met in The Two Towers. We get to witness his transformation step-by-step, and when juxtaposed with Frodo, the current ring-bearer, it makes for a worry and tension which hold all the way through to the film's climax.
This tension is helped along by the film's graceful editing, which almost always seems to cut from one storyline to another at the right time. This may be the most important (but also the most subtle) difference between the second and third films, as The Two Towers killed a fair amount of the tension at Helm's Deep in cutting away from it too early, and too often. Couple this improvement with several virtually consecutive battles far more grandiose in size and scope than anything in the first two films, and the result is captivating.
The effects are also by far the most seamless of the trilogy, matching wide or sweeping CGI shots of armies or landscapes perfectly with their closeup counterparts (most notably in a sequence following Gandalf overhead on horseback through the roads of Minas Tirith). And, more importantly, Jackson takes advantage of the flexibility this gives him, presenting us with dozens upon dozens of shots which would be breathtaking as still frames alone.
The music needs no description. Indeed, no adequate description could be written. Howard Shore's score may very well earn him a second Oscar. The emotional impact of some scenes depends almost entirely on the background music; most notably the beacon-lighting sequence, whose music and vistas make for a powerful combination.
It would do no good to detail the battle sequences, except to say that they are colder, harsher, far more brutal, and far more exhilarating than any others in the series of films. Some of the on-screen deaths will likely disturb you, but Jackson knows this, and uses it to his advantage to help mentally place us on the battlefield. More often than not, you'll find yourself empathizing greatly with the horror, anger, and motivation of the characters on screen. You've seen the same horrors of battle that they have, and so their loyalty and courage is that much more believable.
I've saved commentary on the film's ending for my own; much ado has been made of the fact that, several times within the film's last 20 minutes, the film appears about to end, but does not. Admittedly, it does go on too long, and there's little doubt that those involved possessed the skill to summarize plots and economize screen time more efficiently, but very little of it could have been removed without robbing the audience of the closure that such a trilogy demands.
If the ending feels rushed, it is thanks, in part, to some scenes earlier which could've done with a bit more frugality. Certain subplots (the seeming insanity of Denethor during the film's centerpiece battles, for example) could have been eliminated altogether, thus freeing up more time for the things that Jackson could not have removed and still lived to tell about.
Ultimately, these flaws are more than forgivable in light of the tremendous depth of the story, and the unrivaled skill which went into bringing it to life. The praises of "greatest trilogy of all time" may be premature, but they are by no means ridiculous. The Return of the King may also be the return of the unbridled Hollywood epic.