March 27, 2003

Rules for the Debate
Dhspgt

Introduction

The “book versus film” debate game needs a set of rules. What if Tolkien were alive and surfing the internet? Let us play the game as though he were and try not to embarrass ourselves. Tolkien’s published letters demonstrate how he would play this game.

Based on his letters, one of Tolkien’s ambitions in creating his mythology/history of middle-earth was to inspire other artists to compose variations on his theme. Though he may not have originally intended it to be so, LOTR became one of those artistic creations he hoped would be inspired by that myth/history. It may have started life as a sequel to the Hobbit and was, as Tolkien put it, “drawn” into the myth/history, but it had a life of its own, and Tolkien’s relation to it was quite different than his relation to the underlying myth/history. I am not simply playing word games. Tolkien himself is the source of this distinction. In response to a reader’s question, Tolkien said: “I am not a model of scholarship; but in the matter of the Third Age I regard myself as a ‘recorder’ only” [letter 214, p. 289]. What is he trying to convey by referring to himself as a “recorder? The scholar-creator of the myth/history we came to know through the Silmarillion crafted underlying structures and then focused his considerable analytical skill on those structures in order to build complexity. The LOTR artist, on the other hand, is first and foremost a story-teller. Jackson is first and foremost a movie-maker. His relationship to Tolkien’s myth/history is the same as the recorder’s relationship to that myth/history. Whatever one might think of the relative artistic merit of Jackson’s film, few would debate that the film is a serious-minded effort. Thus, one might imagine Tolkien engaged in a debate with Jackson as two artists who primarily work in different mediums discussing the relative strengths and weaknesses of two works of art based on the same underlying source material (ignoring, for the purpose of the debate, the fact that Tolkien is also the creator of the source material).

Rules of the Game

Tolkien would have appreciated Jackson’s stated initial assumption in approaching the film adaptation—that he would treat Tolkien’s subcreation as a historical reality. Making a film of LOTR would thus be equivalent to making a film based on Killer Angels. That approach is an invitation to two types of debate: “scholarly” debate regarding variant histories of the actual events that occurred during the American Civil War; and critical debate concerning artistic decisions arising from the necessity of transforming a written narrative history into a dramatic film. Following that line of reasoning, and for the purpose of playing this game, there are two possibilities for “Tolkien-approved” differences/departures from the text: a) reasonable variants discovered in the underlying historical reality; and b) legitimate deviations required for creating a dramatic film from a written history.

a) the history game

Tolkien: “The Hobbit saga is presented as vera historia, at great pains (which have proved very effective)” [letter 281, p.365]. LOTR is self-consciously presented as a hobbit-history of the underlying events, but the text acknowledges that it is not the only history, nor is the text the work of a single historian. Bilbo “writes” the Hobbit and begins the task of writing LOTR. He later turns his notes and material over to Frodo. We know that some of the material originated with Bilbo: he made notes from what he was told by others. However, much of Bilbo’s written material apparently concerned matters outside the contemporary events: e.g., Bilbo’s translations from the elvish and his poetry. Frodo assumed most of the actual task of writing the history and editing the material given to him. Sam inherited the nearly completed text and was given the task of writing the conclusion. Frodo or Sam may have accumulated some of the material in the appendices, but some of it was clearly added by later editors. We also learn that Merry and Pippin became authors of scholarly treatises concerning both cultural and natural history. The appendices also refer to other histories and source material—all this and we have not even mentioned the “historical source material” otherwise known as tales, songs and epic poems either present in the text or referenced in it.

So what? From an epistemological perspective, all novels are (fictional) histories, and some writers emphasize that point of view by having the narrative voice refer to itself as historian and the text refer to itself as history. The mere fact that Tolkien employed a common device in presenting the Hobbit saga as vera historia is barely worth repeating—even on the internet where words are cheap and repetition is easy. Tolkien’s use of the device is distinguished—if not made unique—by the “great pains” he took which “proved very effective.” An examination of the ways and means his great pains are manifest in the Hobbit saga would indeed be worth repeating—anywhere and to anybody. However, as much as I would like to follow this side track further, I will stay on the main track and simply state that Tolkien’s vera historia presentation provides Jackson and the rest of us with an entertaining mechanism to debate variations on Tolkien’s “saga.” Jackson’s best response to criticism that certain events in the films are not consistent with the text would be to assert that he had discovered a variant historical document.

The Rule. Historical documents unknown to the writer(s) and editor(s) of the “Red Book” might report events unreported in LOTR or cast events depicted in LOTR in a much different light. In this manner, Jackson could defend certain choices made in the film by referring to his own source material. That being said, the game obviously cannot allow unsubstantiated claims, and the undisputed authority on whether a claim has merit is Tolkien. As long as the claimant adopted a serious, scholarly approach, Tolkien would eagerly entertain the proposal. He would not, however, suffer stupidity, intellectual laziness or a lack of understanding or appreciation for the primary source material—not merely because he was imbued with an overbearing pride of authorship (he was) but because he was, after all, a “don” and those guys play this kind of game better than anyone in the world. Tolkien established the rule in reaction to the story line of a proposed animated motion picture based on LOTR: “If details are to be added to an already crowded picture, they should at least fit the world described” [letter 210, p.272].

b) the art game

Tolkien: “As far as I am concerned personally, I should welcome the idea of an animated motion picture, with all the risk of vulgarization; and that quite apart from the glint of money. Though on the brink of retirement that is not an unpleasant possibility. I think I should find vulgarization less painful than the sillification achieved by the B.B.C.” [letter 198, p.257]. If Jackson’s films are a “vulgarization” of LOTR, we are at least safe in saying that they are not a “sillification” of it. There are serious errors in Jackson’s artistic rendering of LOTR on film but his respect for Tolkien’s subcreation is undeniably evident. Tolkien would have appreciated that. As for the errors, someone once said that art is error—or something like that.

Before we move on from Tolkien’s comment, there are two things about it that bear careful consideration. First, remember that Tolkien knows more about words than other mere mortals and his use of “vulgarization” has less dirt in it than modern usage might convey. Tolkien would not write “vulgar” without thinking of the Latin root “vulgare” which means “to make public.” He would, without impiety, allow his mind to make an etymological connection between the Vulgate Bible and a Vulgate LOTR. Before the American Revolutionary War (just kidding), “vulgar” referred to the “common people.” Tolkien might almost have said “popularization” for “vulgarization.” He wanted his work to be popular, but he wanted it to be popular for the right reasons, and there was a great risk that it would be “popularized” for the wrong reasons. Of course, Tolkien’s well-known fall-back position on this matter was stated as “Art or Cash” [letter 202, p.261]: either he would be given the power to control artistic decisions or he would get enough money to ease the pain.

Second, do not lightly skip over the fact that Tolkien would “welcome the idea” of a film for reasons “quite apart from the glint of money,” and also somewhat apart from his desire to see it become popular. Though Tolkien was “married” to his material, to use the modern cliché, in a more profound way than most of us can really understand, he also had an artist’s appreciation of the relationship between the artist and the artist’s chosen medium of expression—even when the artist worked in a medium unfamiliar to him. He expressed appreciation for certain works “inspired” by his work, but he was not and would not be sympathetic to artistic expression that did not seem to him to express a sincere understanding of his work. Tolkien: “You certainly have my permission to compose any work that you wished based on the Hobbit …. As an author I am honoured to hear that I have inspired a composer. I have longed hoped to do so, and hoped also that I might perhaps find the result intelligible to me, or feel that it was akin to my own inspiration—as much as are, say, some (but not all) of Pauline Baynes’ illustrations….” [letter 260, p.350]. Most importantly, Tolkien would “welcome the idea” of a film because a large part of his motivation for personal myth-making was to provide inspiration for others. Tolkien wanted his sub-creation to become further real-ized through the artistic achievements of others who would add leaves to his tree:
Do not laugh! But once upon a time (my crest has long since fallen) I had a mind to make a body of more or less connected legend, ranging from the large and cosmogonic, to the level or romatic fairy-story—the larger founded on the lesser in contact with the earth, the lesser drawing splendour from the vast backcloths—which I could dedicate simply to: to England; to my country…. I would draw some of the great tales in fullness, and leave many only placed in the scheme, and sketched. The cycles should be linked to a majestic whole, and yet leave scope for other minds and hands, wielding paint and music and drama. Absurd. [letter 131, pp. 144-5]

The Rule. Even though, if Tolkien had his “druthers,” he might have wanted the film to be an “abridgement with some good picture-work” [letter 201, p.261] (particularly if the party responsible for making the film had the artistic sensibility of a midge fly and could not be trusted to make intelligent decisions), we will assume, for purposes of this game, that Tolkien would greedily welcome the opportunity to see his work inspire a serious-minded artist and that he would be capable of a reasonably impersonal debate concerning the artistic necessity of certain deviations from his text—provided the artist’s vision was sincere and his rationale persuasive. Again, for purposes of this game, we will assume that Jackson is sincere. So, since our Jackson is sincere and our Tolkien is reasonable, we only have to focus on which view—deviation versus abridgement—is the most persuasive in the given situation.



The Game

First Round.

Tolkien to Jackson: The importance placed on maintaining absolute secrecy regarding Frodo’s quest accomplished a number of things. The temptation to possess the Ring is overpowering. Few can resist it even momentarily. Had the presence of the Ring been openly disclosed in such a manner, Faramir’s men should have been driven mad by it. The film cheapens our appreciation of the power of the Ring and consequently of Frodo’s strength in resisting it and of Faramir’s act in letting Frodo go. Aragorn and Gandalf are willing to sacrifice thousands of lives daring to engage in a hopeless battle in front of the black gate of Mordor in order to safeguard that secrecy. The film’s Faramir is barely distinguishable from his men. The audience must love and respect him in order to give greater weight to his subsequent conflict with Denethor, his near death and his relationship with Eowyn. There was a better way of presenting this scene even if it remains at the same place in the film.

Jackson: I deviated from the text in having Faramir initially act on his desire to do as his father would command by taking Frodo and Sam to Osgiliath because the film needed to “act out” the scene that was accomplished completely through dialogue in the text. The tension and conflict presented and resolved through words spoken by Faramir, Frodo and Sam were translated into a course of action in the film. Also, I need to depart from the text in fairly substantial ways every now and then because so many viewers have the read the book. The film would not be as pleasurable for them without real doubt and anxiety. Even though many of us have read LOTR many times, there was only one first time.

Tolkien: I understand both of those motives and accept them as valid reasons to deviate from the text. I may be dead but I am not stupid. However, we can still have our lembas and eat it, too. There is no good reason to have Faramir learn about the Ring from Gollum.

Jackson interrupts: The thing that scene adds to the film is the depiction of Gollum’s inner debate being reawakened by Frodo’s act of treachery (from Gollum’s perspective). I wanted the audience to believe that true redemption might have been possible for Smeagol.

Tolkien: Understood. In fact, I once wrote that, “For me perhaps the most tragic moment in the Tale comes in II 323 ff. when Sam fails to note the complete change in Gollum’s tone and aspect. “Nothing, nothing,’ said Gollum softly. “Nice master!’. His repentance is blighted and all Frodo’s pity is (in a sense) wasted. Shelob’s lair became inevitable” [letter 246, p.330]. However, consider the final scene in your second film, when Gollum and Smeagol argue—this time with Gollum having the last word. If the audience had seen very little of Gollum/Smeagol since the forbidden pool—just captive and in the background—then the last scene in the film would be the first moment the audience’s attention would return to Gollum. I believe you would have crafted a stronger last scene without the early warning that Gollum was winning out over Smeagol. Would it not have been more effective to have Gollum feigning gratitude to Frodo immediately upon appearing free of Faramir’s men: “Nice master, etc.” Thus, at first, the audience would still believe that good Smeagol was leading the way. Then, immediately thereafter, Gollum slips out of sight while Frodo and Sam are talking (“Frodo wouldn’t have got far without Sam, would he, dad?”), and the inner struggle between Gollum and Smeagol ensues. Gollum would complain to Smeagol about Frodo’s supposed betrayal and that Frodo did nothing while Gollum was being bound, ignored and mistreated.

Jackson: Again, at the risk of being simple-minded, I wanted to translate the conflict going on inside Faramir, as well as between Frodo and Faramir, brilliantly conveyed almost solely by dialogue in the text, into action in the film. Faramir’s motivation for taking the hobbits to Gondor is his discovery, obtained from Gollum, that Frodo has the Ring. He acts on his first motive—obedience to Denethor, his father and commander—by physically moving the hobbits toward Gondor. He subsequently sees Frodo acting out the Ring’s powerful influence through the events at Osgiliath. Sam’s words add the last ingredient and Faramir changes his course.

Tolkien: Unfortunately, your Faramir ends up seeming confused, weak and ordinary. If you must depart from my brilliant dialogue (your word, not mine) in order to create more action, simply have Faramir announce the decision to take Frodo and Sam to Gondor, and thus, to his father, by making it clear that Faramir, in doing so, is following his father’s command, though perhaps not Faramir’s own instinct or desire. Later, when Frodo attacks Sam at the bottom of the stairs in Osgiliath, manage the scene so that, following the scene in which Frodo struggles to resist the temptation to put on the Ring in front of the winged Nazgul, Faramir rushes to join Frodo and Sam as they tumble down the stairs. They end up in a ruined room separate from all the others, including Gollum. As Frodo takes Sting to attack Sam, Faramir moves to strike Frodo in order to save Sam, and Sam immediately responds by coming to Frodo’s aid: “Leave him alone! You don’t understand!” Then, Sam blurts out the lines about the Ring driving Boromir mad, that Frodo is on a quest to destroy it and that Faramir should be helping Frodo. Frodo cries “Sam!” just as in “Window on the West” chapter. Faramir responds by looking at Frodo in amazement. The film would then pick up the brilliant dialogue from the text, though compressed, having Sam address Faramir, asking him to show his quality by not taking advantage of Frodo because of Sam’s blunder, then showing Faramir “passing the test,” as did Gandalf and Galadriel, by uttering the line “A chance for Faramir, Captain of Gondor, to show his quality! Ha! [pause—there is a moment of doubt; Frodo and Sam prepare to defend themselves] Alas for Boromoir! It was too sore a trial! [Faramir’s body and face relax; he grows sad] I am wise enough to know that there are some perils from which a man must flee” and end with “For strange though it may seem, it was safe to declare this thing to me. It may even help the master that you love.” Then, Faramir says, “Well, Frodo, now at last we understand one another. If you took this thing on yourself, unwilling, at others’ asking, then you have pity and honor from me. And I marvel at you: to keep it hid and not to use it. You are a new people and a new world to me. Your land must be a realm of peace and content, and there must gardeners be in high honor.” Frodo: “Not all is well there, but certainly gardeners are honored.” [pause as Frodo grows faint and wavers on his feet; Sam comes to his aid] Frodo: “I must find the Mountain of Fire and cast the thing into the gulf of Doom. I do not think I shall ever get there.” Faramir then takes Frodo and Sam to his men and instructs them to let them go. Faramir’s lieutenant points out that doing so would be breaking Denethor’s law and that Faramir’s life would be forfeit. Faramir says “So be it.” Faramir pulls Sam aside and gives him advise on how to get out of Osgiliath, and Sam looks up and says: “Thank you, Captain. You took the chance, sir.” Faramir: “Did I so?” Sam: “Yes sir, and showed your quality: the very highest.” If Sam shows some affection for Faramir, then the audience will.

Round Two.

Tolkien: The conclusion of the battle of Helm’s Deep is anti-climactic—a serious weakness considering the amount of time devoted to it on screen. At that moment in the history, my text has an advantage over your film. In the text, the focus of attention shifts immediately from the battle to the protagonists’ sense of wonder created by the dawn of a new world—literally, a changed landscape created by Gandalf and the Huorns. The end of the battle on film needs an emotionally satisfying, defining moment.

Jackson: What about Gandalf’s and Eomer’s charge into the orcs? You must admit it was visually dramatic.

Tolkien: I readily admit that the “crash” of the White Rider and the Riders of Rohan into the orc front line is visually stunning and reasonably faithful to the text, but the overall result is a missed opportunity to create the kind of moment we experience in the film FOTR when Aragorn cuts off Lurtz’s head and embraces the dying Boromir. The film gave the battle of Helm’s Deep too much emotional weight to close so abruptly, and the subsequent “poster shot” of Gandalf, Aragorn, Theoden and Eomer is too artificial for emotional closure.

Jackson: I have something in mind for the extended DVD, but I was afraid the Tolkien purists would eat me alive.

Tolkien: Tolkien purists might not allow it, but I will listen. I do not mind your tinkering with events as much as I do your failure to develop certain characters.

Jackson: How about this story line? Immediately after Theoden’s speech “We will draw swords together,” Aragorn pulls Gimli aside and says: “Defend the gate to the caves so the people may escape to the mountains. Hope must survive.” The audience is thus given further evidence that Aragorn is prepared to do as he exclaimed earlier and die defending Rohan. We see what Gimli sees and we share his exhilaration mixed with despair as the riders make a last, desperate charge. As Aragorn, Theoden and the few remaining riders “cleave a road” to “make such an end as will be worth a song,” the orcs encircle them, and, from the press of spears, unhorse the riders. The audience’s anxiety increases. From above, Gimli and the audience sees Aragorn and the remnants of the Eorlingas stand back-to-back, surrounding and defending Theoden, as the bodies of slain orcs pile around them. The situation appears hopeless. Gimli realizes he should give up, quit watching and run to the caves to die “defending the people.” Then Aragorn sees the White Rider in the distance. The audience perceives that Gandalf’s power to inspire, strengthen and enhance is being extended to the Riders and those defending Theoden. Aragorn’s sword glows red at the edges and flames as it slices through his foes. After the White Rider crashes into the orc front line, the audience watches (both from Gimli’s perspective above and from “orc eye level” ) the White Rider and the foremost Riders “cleave a road” to Aragorn and Theoden who are still surrounded by unnumbered foes. Will the Riders reach Aragorn and the King before they fall? When they reach Aragorn and Theoden, and the four principal characters do that cinematic thing where they all look each other in the eyes and then look around them at the battle scene, we pull back from them and, from Gimli’s perspective, see the orcs being routed. The new scene would not require more than a minute of screen time, but it would provide a better setting for the “poster shot” of the four men looking to the audience as Gandalf announces that the battle for Helm’s deep is won, but …” That scene would become a more natural conclusion to the battle.

Round Three.

Tolkien: The initial confrontation between Gandalf and Saruman in the film FOTR left out (needlessly, I think) one of the great bits of dialogue in the entire text and failed to establish Saruman’s motivation to become a “power” in his own right and his concomitant desire to possess the One Ring for his own purposes and not simply as a servant or ally of Sauron: another significant failure to develop character.

Jackson: I would loved to have developed Saruman’s inner motivation, but New Line would not let me make each film four hours long.

Tolkien: I do not think it would take that much time on screen. Since it is too late to expand that scene in FOTR, the logical place to make up for the earlier failure is the post-battle scene at Isengard in the film ROTK while you are dramatizing the historical events presented in the “Voice of Saruman” chapter. The dialogue to be inserted is from the “Council of Elrond” chapter. The dialogue will work in the film ROTK even though it is from the text FOTR. From his perch in Orthanc, Saruman makes a last-ditch effort to intimidate Gandalf (and the others) by proclaiming that he is “Saruman the Wise, Saruman Ring-maker, Saruman of Many Colors,” while showing off his fancy new special-effects robe and flashing his ring.
Gandalf responds with the line from FOTR: “I liked white better.”
Saruman: “White! It serves as a beginning. White cloth may be dyed. The white page may be overwritten; and the white light can be broken.”
Gandalf: “In which case it is no longer white, and he that breaks a thing to find out what it is has left the path of wisdom.”

Topics for Future Rounds (depending on the film ROTK).

Arwen’s Expanded Role. There is no doubt that director Jackson’s decision to expand the on-screen presence of Arwen is a sound one, necessary in order to make “movie magic” out of the existing romantic story line involving Arwen and Aragorn. I do not claim that the decision is a sound one simply because a good love story will increase ticket sales—though that is a sound enough reason in and of itself. Emphasis on the Aragorn/Arwen relationship is a brilliant idea, because LOTR is, essentially and structurally, a love story. In the first two films, Arwen’s expanded presence could be defended on artistic grounds. The real test will come in the third film.

The presentation of LOTR on film requires more emphasis on character than does Tolkien’s text. The film audience’s interest in/attachment to/involvement with the characters of Arwen and Aragorn, their love, their relationship, their dilemma, and their ultimate marriage, is the most effective means available to the director to accomplish what the text accomplishes through other means. In order to set things right in the world, in order for winter to become spring, in order to usher in a new age (the fourth age, the age of man), in order to bring balance between the forces of dark and light…, Arwen and Aragorn must marry.

One of the many fascinating features of LOTR is the interplay between traditional elements of comedy, tragedy, romance, epic poetry, history and mythology. That interplay creates depth, and is one of the reasons Tolkien’s work is easily distinguishable from other works of fantasy. The romantic story line involving Aragorn and Arwen centers the comedic structure of LOTR. Comedic structure, as I use the term here, does not refer to the structure of humor, but to paradigmatic structures evident in works such as the comedies of Aristophanes, Shakespeare and Moliere, works that borrowed their plots from folk tale, myth and legend. The structure of comedy requires an initial pairing or balanced state that is threatened, disrupted, torn or separated, and ends in a wedding, consummation, or new balanced state. Obviously, the relationships and marriages of Arwen/Aragorn, Eowyn/Faramir, and Rose/Sam are manifestations of this structure, but so too are a hundred other thematic elements ranging from the white tree to the cycle of the seasons and to the “ages” of Middle Earth. In the archetypal comedy, the old or existing world order is out of balance. There is a young couple, representing the new generation, the promise of a new world order, destined to mate. One of the manifestations of the imbalance of the old world order, is the prohibition or impediment obstructing the union of the couple. Elrond’s decree that Aragorn must, in essence, establish a new world order before he may marry Arwen, is a literal expression of the archetype.

It is not difficult to understand why that basic structure “works” in the mind of the listener, reader or audience. It uses emotion as a “hook” (to get our attention); it uses our instinct to impose order on chaos; and (to hold our interest). The story begins by attracting us (the audience) to the couple destined to mate. Then, events conspire against the lovers, so that we begin to doubt whether the couple will be joined, fulfilling their destiny. We grow uneasy. We thought we knew what to expect but know we are beginning to wonder. Is this story a comedy or a tragedy? Is it Romeo and Juliet or All’s Well That Ends Well? Will the lovers end well?

In other words, the audience must be made to care about the fate of Arwen and Aragorn, we have to be pulling for them. The false pairing of Eowyn and Aragorn arising from Eowyn’s mistaken love for Aragorn mirrors on a human level the conflict that must be resolved in order for Aragorn and Arwen to consummate their love. The Eowyn story line even uses the classic comedic device of woman-in-love disguised as man. The love of Eowyn for Aragorn is a necessary element of LOTR. We must doubt whether Arwen and Aragorn will wed, just as we must doubt whether the dark lord will be overcome. We must see Eowyn, shown as obviously in love with Aragorn, so that we will wonder, somewhere in the back of our minds, “Wait a minute; I thought Aragorn was going to end up with Arwen.”

Gollum’s Sacrifice:

Tolkien: [posing a hypothetical situation in which Smeagol remained true to Frodo while still possessed with desire for the Ring] “I think that in some queer twisted and pitiable way, Gollum would have tried (not maybe with conscious design) to satisfy both. Certainly at some point not long before the end he would have stolen the Ring or taken it by violence (as he does in the actual Tale). But ‘possession’ satisfied, I think he would then have sacrificed himself for Frodo’s sake and have voluntarily cast himself into the fiery abyss” [letter 246, p.330].

Speaking of Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle, the moment Gollum falls into the crack of doom resonates with a number of potential states of being—“charged” with meaning:

1) Frodo fails to achieve the quest. The Ring cannot be destroyed/overcome by an act of individual will. It is accomplished by means of an accident (Gollum’s slip) beyond Frodo’s control.
a) The accident was random.
b) The accident was “meant” to happen by the same higher power that, in Gandalf’s words to Frodo, “meant” Bilbo to have the Ring
2) Frodo achieves the quest by destroying the Ring. His act of courage (taking the Ring into Mordor) and act of mercy (sparing Gollum’s life) are both acts of will that “cause” the Ring to be destroyed by creating the circumstances that result in the accident.
3) Frodo achieves the quest by using the Ring. Frodo is still wearing the ring when Gollum falls into the pit, because it is still on Frodo’s severed finger. Gollum had not yet “put it on.” Frodo declared to Gollum: “Do not attempt to take the ring. If I, wearing the ring, were to command you to leap into the pit, you would do so, and such would be my command.” Gollum takes the Ring, and the power of the Ring commands him to leap into the pit.
4) Gollum accomplishes the quest by taking the Ring. Gollum’s desire to possess the Ring overwhelms him and he is willing to accept Frodo’s doom (cast into the pit) in order to possess it.
5) Smeagol accomplishes the quest by voluntarily casting himself into the abyss. Some part of Smeagol’s hobbit good nature survived to the end. Smeagol took the Ring, and even though he could overcome not his desire to possess it, he could destroy it without giving up possession by destroying both it and himself.

WE CAN ONLY HOPE THAT JACKSON STAGES THIS SCENE TO ALLOW ALL POTENTIAL STATES OF MEANING.

Notes for the heck of it…Lucas obviously had Tolkien’s LOTR in mind in Return of the Jedi. The final scene involving Luke (Frodo), Darth (Gollum) and the Emperor (the One Ring/Sauron) has a number of strong similarities. Frodo and Luke are both orphans raised by an uncle. But orphans have fathers. Darth is Luke’s father. Gollum is an ancestral hobbit, the ancient father of Frodo. Frodo and Luke both realize that Darth/Gollum are their “dark” selves, and they both see good in Darth/Gollum, as they must, if they are to believe that there is good in themselves. In the end, Frodo/Luke cannot destroy evil through an act of will, through their own power. Frodo is unable to cast the ring into the pit, and Luke is unable to defeat the Emperor in combat. Yet, they are saved and evil is destroyed because they believed there was good in Gollum/Darth, and Gollum/Darth accomplished the final, necessary act. Though it might seem that Gollum’s action was less act than accident, there are underlying similarities even there. Darth did not overcome the Emperor through combat. His act was a sudden impulse that caught the Emperor unaware. The Evil One had not calculated on the possibility. Gandalf reminds us that our one hope of salvation lies in the fact (I love language: “lies in the fact”) that the thought that someone would try to destroy the Ring instead of using it had not not occurred to Sauron. Why? The Evil One did not calculate the possibility of good in Darth/Gollum because there is a complete absence of good in the Evil One.

The battle of the rebel fleet against the death star in Return of the Jedi is reminiscent of the battle of the alliance forces in front of the Black Gate. When the Emperor looks out the window at the “pitiful” forces of Luke’s rebel “friends,” Luke realizes that the Emperor is right: the war cannot be won through the good side’s exercise of military and technological power. The battle is hopeless while the shield holds and while the Emperor lives, just as the war for Middle Earth cannot be won on the field of battle while the ring exists. The Emperor did not reckon on the hidden good in Darth Vader, nor did he understand the strength of the little people who live in nature without technology. Saruman/Sauron did not calculate on the hobbits or the ents. Saruman’s mind is full of wheels and mechanical things; he does not understand hobbits or ents. The Emperor did not calculate on the little ewoks. So it goes.