The Lord of the Rings

I first watched The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring on a winter evening with friends. We had food on the table and enough conversation during the opening minutes to suggest that nobody expected to become solemn about hobbits.

Three hours later, the room was quiet.

What changed was not my opinion of fantasy.

It was the scale of the journey.

The film begins in the Shire, a place built from repetition: meals, gardens, birthdays, local gossip, familiar roads. Safety is almost geographical.

Then the map opens.

Frodo does not leave because adventure has called to a heroic part of him. He leaves because something dangerous has entered the ordinary world and remaining would endanger the people he loves.

I find that more persuasive than fearlessness.

Frodo is afraid for most of the story.

He continues anyway.

Sam affected me more on later viewings. The film contains warriors, kings, wizards and ancient powers, yet Sam’s most important ability is reliability.

He stays.

The word sounds unimpressive until staying becomes expensive.

Friendship is easy when the other person’s difficulties remain entertaining stories. Loyalty becomes visible when their burden starts interfering with your own plans.

The Fellowship itself is interesting for the opposite reason. Its members are not naturally compatible. They carry different motives, histories, prejudices and kinds of pride. Some do not particularly like one another.

For a period, they share a direction.

That resembles successful groups more closely than the fantasy of perfect chemistry. A team does not require one personality. It requires a purpose strong enough to survive several personalities.

I remember walking home after that first viewing. The night was cold and the distance was perhaps fifteen minutes. For a few blocks, after watching mountains and ruined kingdoms, the familiar streets looked slightly more dramatic.

Then I slipped on ice and the spell ended.

Boromir has become more interesting to me with age because his failure is based on an argument, not simple wickedness. He wants to use power to protect his people.

Bad choices rarely introduce themselves as bad choices.

They arrive carrying reasons.

The Ring understands rationalization better than most people do.

Use this because the situation is exceptional.

Break the rule because the goal is noble.

Take a little power now and give it back later.

The story knows how quickly protection can become possession.

When the Fellowship breaks, the mission becomes more personal rather than less important. Each character carries a fragment of responsibility separately.

That may be why the story remains powerful beyond spectacle.

Important journeys often begin before the people taking them feel prepared.

Someone says the road must be taken.

Then ordinary feet start walking.