Editor’s Note: 828reviewsNOW is a series of culture reviews of the arts around Western North Carolina. These articles represent the opinions of their writers, who remain committed to fair, ethical and unbiased journalism. We have received no incentive or payment from the subjects of these reviews and observe them with an objective, analytical eye in mind.
“THE LORD OF THE RINGS: THE WAR OF THE ROHIRRIM” (2024, 134 min., directed by Kenji Kamiyama
“The Lord of the Rings: The War of the Rohirrim” is the first film based on J.R.R. Tolkien’s work in a decade, following the conclusion of Peter Jackson’s “The Hobbit” trilogy, and the first animated adaptation in the franchise since the 1980 Rankin/Bass version of “The Return of the King.”
It may also be the first “LotR” film made because of a corporate cold war.
According to reporting around the debut of the Amazon television series “The Rings of Power,” ostensibly a “LotR” expansion itself, “Rohirrim” was put in production so that New Line Studios could retain control of the film rights to the “LotR” universe.
That’s not exactly an auspicious beginning for any work of art, especially “Rohirrim,” which fights an uphill battle as a work of adaptation as it is.
“The Hobbit” trilogy was famously criticized for telling the story of the slim novel in three overlong films, adding characters and plot threads to pad the runtime where Tolkien’s writing ran out. “The Battle of the Five Armies,” the third and final film in the series, is largely embellished from two chapters at the end of “The Hobbit.” “Rohirrim” takes things a step further, extrapolating its story from a few pages in the appendices of “The Return of the King.”
That shaky foundation for adaptation might have been an opportunity for the team behind “Rohirrim,” director Kenji Kamiyama and scribes Jeffrey Addiss, Will Matthews, Phoebe Gittins and Arty Papageorgiou, to tell a story that felt fresh and distinct from previous “LotR” renditions.
However, beyond an anime rendering of Tolkien iconography, “Rohirrim” can’t seem to add anything new to the Middle Earth mythos.
That animation is occasionally stunning, blending traditional 2D drawings with beautiful painted backdrops. The battle sequences are particularly, thankfully well animated, considering warfare is in the title. However, the animation feels oddly stilted in other places. Characters jerk around choppily during dialogue and fight effortlessly in battle.
The inconsistency of the animation takes away from the fluidity and transportation of the storytelling, but never the beauty of the artwork itself, which remains gorgeous the whole way through.
Yet outside of its aesthetic, “Rohirrim” is a chore.
The plot – Héra, the daughter of Rohan king Helm Hammerhand, must defend ancient stronghold Helm’s Deep against the evil Wulf after her father kills his dad in a one punch knock-out. The incident is almost hilarious in its melodrama, complete with inescapable swells of the score – is derivative of a story arc in “The Two Towers,” the second “LotR” installment.
Considering “Rohirrim” is set 183 years before the events of “The Two Towers,” it feels Helm’s deep-ly ironic.
“Rohirrim” is all a dull retread of things we’ve seen before. From a worse version of a Helm’s Deep battle to interactions with the series’ infamous giant eagles, the film plods through familiar elements from Jackson’s films with little aplomb.
The characters sure aren’t helping matters.
Héra is exasperatingly clichéd while Wulf is cartoonishly villainous. Helm Hammerhand, played by “Succession” star Brian Cox, is a highlight as a boisterous force of nature but is absent from most of the film’s absurd runtime: 2 hours and 14 minutes in total.
For fans simply looking to be guided back into Middle Earth after a decade-long cinematic leave of absence, “Rohirrim” may be just the thing.
It looks the part, at least.
But just as Grima Wormtongue corrupted King Théoden of Rohan in the Jackson films, New Line Cinema has diluted the “LotR” brand with “Rohirrim”: the appearance of something noble has been reduced to a sunken vision of its former self.
Rating: 2/5
“QUEER” (2024, 137 min., directed by Luca Guadagnino
“Queer” is the second Luca Guadagnino movie this year, coming on the heels of the electrifying romantic sports drama “Challengers.”
It is much stranger than its sister film.
“Queer” is adapted from William S. Burroughs’ 1985 novella of the same name, a fact Guadagnino embraces with zeal: the film’s closing title card reads “William S Burroughs’ Queer.”
Despite that acknowledgement of ownership, the version of “Queer” that Guadagnino presents is a remarkable work of trans-media adaptation: “Queer” is a picture obsessed with its images.
That’s not a bad thing. The cinematic language of “Queer” would be the best thing it has going for it if not captained by a luminous Daniel Craig.
Craig is resplendent in nearly every frame of the film and carries a panoply of personas with him. As his character William Lee, Craig plays suave, silly, nervous, blustering, theatrical, obnoxious, reedy, desperate, addled, playful, childish and sorrowful. He embodies Lee as a fully fledged, firmly flawed human being.
It’s one of the best performances of the year.
But the film, like Lee himself, is more interested in observing the objects of Lee’s desire.
Lee, an American expat drinking and sleeping his way through 1950s Mexico City, sets his sights early in the film on a young Navy vet, Eugene Allerton, played by a reserved but emotionally reservoired Drew Starkey.
Lee’s courtship and eventual unbalanced relationship with Allerton is one based on observation. Craig’s jealous or amorous eyes stroke Starkey’s body from across bars, booze and chess boards. Guadagnino’s camera follows suit, sumptuously reflecting Lee’s desires through Sayombhu Mukdeeprom’s gorgeous cinematography.
Perhaps the best example of the camera’s relationship with its central character are the double-exposures which appear throughout the film.
Occasionally, Lee’s desires will be communicated by a ghostly, translucent version of himself enacting them. In one scene, Lee wants to kiss Allerton’s neck in a movie theater. With the two men shot from behind and facing the projection of a film themselves, an apparition of Lee’s desire reaches over and fulfills his wish. There is no dialogue and Allerton doesn’t react. The moment is a fantastic communication of what’s happening in Lee’s imagination through breaking the rules of “invisible” filmmaking. Guadagnino is sacrificing the illusion of the fourth wall so that Lee can retain his pretense of cool.
Observation is most of what “Queer” is asking of its audience. Though told in three chapters, “How do you like Mexico?,” “Traveling Companions” and “The Botanist in the Jungle,” and an epilogue, the film is light on plot, heavy on imagery. “Queer” delves into the sexual, sensual and surreal in its pictures but does little to explain them. It merely asks for the audience to give themselves over to the experience.
It’s hard to recommend “Queer” as a genuinely entertaining work of narrative fiction. There are comedic moments – Jason Schwartzman is dynamite with Craig in the few scenes the two share together – and horrifying moments – one of the most disturbing pieces of gore from this year appears unexpectedly in the third act – but the experience is altogether more like walking with Craig through an art exhibit – though not with quite as much intrigue as that scenario in “Skyfall.”
For audiences who are willing to sit with its pictures, “Queer” is rewarding. There are beautiful, tragic things to witness here.
Rating: 4/5