Jackson and co-screenwriters Fran Walsh and Philippa Boyens deftly crisscross the film’s many plot strands. I won’t add to the clamor against the multiple endings (hell, they’re in the book), but the rueful profundity the film needs for closure is spoiled by an orgy of hobbit hugging, with Frodo (Elijah Wood), Merry (Dominic Monaghan) and Pippin (Billy Boyd) jumping around in bed (the Village Voice called it “gayer than anything in Angels in America”).
We know Mortensen can play it - he’s artful at blending heroism and humanity - but the moment seems to happen offscreen. And Jackson inexplicably fails to show us that moment when the spark of kingship first lights in Aragorn’s eyes. There’s no heat in the romance between Aragorn ( Viggo Mortensen), the reluctant leader, and Arwen (Liv Tyler), his Elf love. Some of the computer-generated effects (the army of the dead, the exploding Mount Doom) look subpar.
All three films are equal and indispensable to the tale being told. Many reviewers who resisted the two previous films ( The Fellowship of the Ring and The Two Towers) have come aboard to hail King, as if the series has only now kicked in. King pops your eyes, excites your senses and brings you in as close as a whisper for scenes of startling emotion. Tolkien proud by turning his tome into a film epic by which all future film epics will be judged. New Zealand director, producer and co-writer Peter Jackson does author J.R.R. Long live the king! The Part 3 jinx that plagued The Matrix, The Godfather and the original Star Wars can’t contaminate The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King.
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