A jubilee issue – and, maybe, kind of an epilogue on Shakespeare

 I started writing this the day after I saw the RSC’s show “Shakespeare Live”, broadcasted from Stratford, on the 26^th of April. Of course it was a great show – as was to be expected. And not just because it was this brilliant “pageant” which even the Elizabethans might have been satisfied with, celebrating not only the author but a national institution and, as may well be said talking about Great Britain: a nation. I must confess I was rather moved by Simon Russel Beale evoking “this blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England” in a beautifully understated manner. (Well, if the Scots are pissed off we’ll have to live with it …) But I was even more moved by Akala, squeezing every drop of poetry from Shakespeare’s text into a rap. Because this is what it was, “deep down”: not people using Shakespeare to “show off” – which is of course always part of this kind of celebration – but people living their artistic and personal relationship with his text, “enhancing” their art and their lives by using it. And this was how “all of this” began for me. In a very small way (with a sonnet), and now to see this burst up into a celebration of humanity, and life, and language was of course exactly the way to celebrate. Writing this, I am still a bit “hung over”, and I cannot find Akala’s amazing song ANYWHERE on the internet which is shit. But instead I found a wonderful rap about the “bullshit” which is a theme very close to my heart, obviously, as I began my blog with a squib about “the bullshit, John Cleese …”, and a great love song called “Lose myself” where he is digging into an aspect of love which is rarely covered in songs but struck me as important: “I want to be more than myself. I think I need your help.” - And I don’t mind that he might actually believe that he is the reincarnation of William himself – for all I know! Because, yeah!, that’s the spirit. I mean it! (And Shakespeare could probably have done worse …) Joking apart: I found in fact that rap agrees surprisingly well with Shakespeare for a reason I have already stated somewhere: If it is good it is never “just talking”. It means business.

All of this has brought me to contemplate an issue I took up some time ago when I was on a long train ride and have discarded again – probably not just because there were so many other things but because it is about something particularly disagreeable. It is about one of these questions that have obviously haunted my life and which really NEED an answer. But the answer might be as disagreeable as the question itself which sounds harmless enough: WHY DO I HAVE TO BE HERE? And it is not the “big” question about life (as translated into: “Why are we here?”). As in the wonderful Hamlet skit from “Shakespeare Live” it hangs on which word (of “to be or not to be”) takes the stress. In this case it is actually “here”. It is about why I always have to be in a place where I don’t want to be. Or haven’t achieved to find a “place” where I really want to be. Assuming somehow that my recurring dreams about weird places are an indication that “place”, in this case, is a metaphor. And maybe I have even answered this question lately by not asking it anymore. Going nowhere at all, and having no wish to do so, I might even have found the “place”. But, as usual, I want to KNOW the answer.

What “came to me” on that train ride was a memory of a lecture about Goethe which I heard at uni, about 25 years ago. Whereas I was very much into Schiller’s work for some time I never really liked Goethe. But I was fascinated, as I realize now, because the lecture was, in a way, more about Goethe “as a reader” than as an author. At least this is what I remember because it was actually about something I have experienced often, and which is certainly one of the most important motives for writing: the craving for a fictional experience. And, as I know from experience as well, the author is always a highly competent reader of his own text. Ideally, his (or her) text is what he (she) most wants to read. And what impressed me was that I understood for the first time how important a fictional experience can become for somebody who cannot find the life he actually wants to live.  

The fictional world as such I didn’t like at all. I think I hated almost everything in it, especially “Faust”, and especially “Faust II” which you never see on the theatre, for a reason. It is perverse even for German literary standards where we have this “tradition” that forbids to feel anything that “normal” people might actually feel – which is still the main reason why there aren’t any great German actors, or films, of course. The only “bit” I liked was a kind of tale called “Märchen” – which is “fairy tale”. In fact it isn’t a fairy tale at all nor resembles any kind of tale I know. It is a text that has no ties AT ALL to any real (or fictional) world. Nonetheless it is not only “readable” but actually beautiful to read. And I understood it and loved it as this (successful) act of anarchy, especially against the background of an age where everything with a claim to be relevant had to submit to some kind of LAW. The desire for freedom - which Schiller expressed mainly politically as freedom TO DO something, to decide which laws to follow or to define them for yourself – is here channeled quite differently as freedom FROM rules and regulations OF ANY KIND.

My teacher, who had a great understanding of the human “impact” of literature - which might have been much more important for me than anything he taught me on the subject - made me understand that Goethe finally “got away” from a life which he had made for himself and which implied not only wealth but the kind of carrier that was, in those times, reserved to the nobility, and, literally, escaped to Italy for a few years. But not before this life had made him ill – literally again. He just knew he wanted a different life but didn’t know how he could have it – involving such “basics” as to have “legitimate” sexual relationships with people you want to have them with. He came back – because nobody in his right mind would give up what he had achieved for a life as an artist in Rome – but he made changes. The most important one was that he started to live with his mistress “officially” – which was not at all the same thing as for “high class people” to have a wife AND a mistress. And, I believe, not only Schiller disapproved … He married her, by the way, when it didn’t matter anymore because everybody got used to it, but this is how such things usually end. In the beginning, it was certainly “special”.

As a rule, you don’t “get away” and keep everything you have got. (If you haven’t got much you care for the decision is a lot easier.) But I think he managed. In one of his novels he explained the “Tory” manner of thinking and living to me in a way that stuck. That was because I got it, for the first time, why anyone might actually WANT to think and live like this. He explained that, when there is a fire, you would do everything to prevent it from reaching your house, and to safe the furniture. Well, when I am thinking about a fire in my building I am thinking of the best way to get out of there, about the most important things to take with me, and, maybe, how to help other people who are in danger… But I haven’t got a house! And, as far as I remember, Goethe wrote this after Weimar had been under siege and his partner managed to keep everything safe. (Which was when he finally married her.) And, to be honest, if I am thinking about the current situation, I am not keen on loosing anything I have got, or sharing it with other people. I am prepared that I might have to, but I don’t relish the thought. This is why I was feeling and thinking two different things when I heard Ian McKellen recite the unpublished speech of Thomas More about the “immigrants”. And I think somewhere here is the “line” that separates Goethe and Shakespeare, although I am rather sure that Goethe wouldn’t have voted for the AFD either. And, even though we know not only much less about Shakespeare as a person than in Goethe’s case, but much less than we are made to believe we do!, it is safe to assume that his estate in Stratford, and the wealth he acquired as a theatre “entrepreneur”, was rather important to him. So the difference isn’t that obvious, it is rather a “fine line”.

In any case, being able to “get away” from what you don’t want AND to keep everything you have got is a big, fat success story! Which is WHY there is a big price attached to it – especially FOR OTHER PEOPLE who paid it because, for different reasons, they wanted to stand in the light Goethe shed, and didn’t mind. Or maybe they did …? (He had it right, by the way, when he stated that where there is a lot of light there is a lot of shadow as well – my favourite quote by him.) But there is another kind of price “we” are still paying for having “followed” Goethe. Because, apart from the fact that closing your house against a fire might not always work, there is a big disadvantage if you close the doors for good: which is shutting out the world. I don’t think that Goethe even realized that he had done it because there were so many people – who only echoed his own opinions and believes - and because the world inside him was so much bigger and produced so much more light and entertainment than that which could come from others. And it had become so strong that everything that came from “outside” had to be adapted and made to fit. And, in a way, I know exactly what this is like … Maybe that was one of the creepiest of all the creepy things that happened to me at uni: when I understood how well I understood Goethe. But I didn’t go back there, after twenty-five years. When I am thinking about the great “sign-posts” of German literature – Goethe, Thomas Mann, Günter Grass, and Martin Walser, all of them great writers in their own way which I have read and admired at one point – the thought of going back there again makes me sick – literally! THEY are the reason that I was so infinitely pleased, and even more RELIEVED, when Elfriede Jelinek got the Nobel prize (finally, after Günter Grass did!) After all, I might still care sometimes about “where” I live. And of course everybody who cares about texts has his personal “history of literature” embedded in his bones where you don’t get rid of it. Beginning with the first book you have read and which made an impression on you. And the luckiest thing that ever happened to me was to finally get out of “Germany” and to write the biggest part of it differently.

I did so, by and by, probably starting with the Icelanders?, and almost without noticing what I did, until I “hit on” Shakespeare again after twenty-five years. The strange way – and stranger reason for doing this - made me look closer and think a lot about it. And then – in this looking glass – I could suddenly recognize what I had done. And why. And it made me realize what a long way I have come, and where I am standing now. As this has been all I have written about until now, at least I should know! - In any case it wasn’t coincidence that I ended up with Schiller at one point, not with Goethe. Because there are other aspects to the “classical age” than what had finally become of it – when, in a way, “we” chose Goethe over Schiller. Schiller obviously didn’t want his house closed. Even though he was probably quite aware that it was “utopia” (= no place!) he believed in a world where people might really share what was “going on” inside them. He actually cared for people – as the inhabitants of his fictional world! - more than for his own bowel movements, or even more than for what he experienced himself being in love or any “poetical” state he might use for literary expression. Same as Shakespeare – of whom, as I have said, we know almost nothing as to his personality – but from what he has written it is quite safe to infer that he referred much more to what all kinds of people about him actually said and did than to his personal experience and feelings. Which are of course rather important AS WELL for writing great literature like the sonnets and much of the “poetry” contained in his plays. But the GENERAL FOCUS was elsewhere. There is one experience I am making every time when I am starting on a “new” Shakespeare play – as just now with “Romeo and Juliet” (which I think I must have read a long time ago but didn’t really remember). When I start reading it aloud I automatically begin to think about WHO these people might be, and begin to take an interest in almost every character that has more than a few lines to say. In a way, I begin to “dream up” a Shakespeare play that is like the BBC production of “Middlemarch” or the incredible “old” version of “Persuasion” (with Amanda Root and Ciaran Hinds) where they finally got it that it is essential for these films to “work”, in the way the books work, that EVERY character is equally important and has A LIFE OF HIS OWN. And this shows me every time where my focus is now, and what I was probably looking for and, of course, could never find in German contemporary literature, or film, or tv productions. Because there is no real interest in OTHER people there, just looking into the author’s precious self, or, worse, into what their “average” member of the audience might want to see. (And the latter, of course, goes for “Hollywood” blockbusters as well.) It was like living in a world that was struck blind, unable to SEE the part of the world Shakespeare did see, and which I somehow knew was there. And it is not just “our” recent history that is “to blame”. As I have tried to unfold this started much earlier, with our “classical age”. Even though it wasn’t just Goethe, of course. But I resist the opportunity to write a bit of “acid” history of German literature – though I am not qualified for it I realize that I could. But it wasn’t my intention anyway. I just realized that the blindness really deprived me, as a reader!, for a long time because there are “classical” works of German literature as well which are great, with a lot of genuine human predicaments in them, for example by Fontane, which could be “brought to life” on screen if there were any directors and actors who could “see” them. But from experience I know that there is no point in looking at them with something like “Middlemarch”, or “Little Dorrit” (which I saw recently) in mind. The same goes for contemporary stuff, of course …

And I have noticed something else about my blog that struck me as quite important. From the beginning I have written about other people – much more often than I first realized - not as such, but about their fictional experience. And in some cases I did this “consciously” – but I fully understood how important all of them have been for me for the first time writing this. Because I thought as well that “it” was “utopia”. And, in a way, it is, but not quite. Maybe because of them I realize for the first time that it is “real” because these instances I have gathered are proof that other people have this kind of experience as well, and that it is special for them. Of course I knew that this “world” must be somewhere but I couldn’t reach it. And becoming conscious of it makes me notice it consciously, and gather more of it. Not just remembering the experience of people I know but actually talking about this kind of experience more – which is, of course, a privilege. So, this year, I celebrated Shakespeare’s birthday by actually meeting with somebody to talk about Shakespeare – and other fictional experiences we had liked. (But, as I remember it, there was a lot about Shakespeare.) And, of course, I notice what people I don’t know personally have to say about Shakespeare, and other literary content I am interested in, much more than I did before. For this the Shakespeare year, and of course an event like “Shakespeare Live”, are great occasions. So, in a way, everybody who has ever said something substantial about a fictional experience which I could get hold of is an inhabitant of this utopia and makes it MORE REAL. Top of the list: “... one of these roles I had always coveted and known that, by playing it, I would be changed as a person” and: “I feel as if I am in this world for real, together with the elf, and the dwarf, and the hobbit.” And I have just “hit on” one of these rare instances where I had EXACTLY THE SAME fictional experience as somebody else. Because I stumbled on an interview by Richard Armitage for “Empire Magazin” which isn’t very interesting as such because it mainly consists of him trying to answer or dodge stupid questions. (“How much is a pint of milk?” obviously WAS NOT the most stupid one …) But when he relates that he gave up on “Game of Thrones” quite early on, because there were too many dragons in it, and went back to watching “House of Cards” I was extremely pleased because that was exactly what happened to me – although actually BEFORE the first dragon appeared. And the gratefulness to everyone of these people I mentioned is something I couldn’t express, even if I had a gift for words like Shakespeare’s. And which is what I want to celebrate.

Appendix on the appendix on „The Hobbit”: about “something”

(... and definitly the last "bit" on "The Hobbit"!)

 When I wrote my finishing lines on “The Hobbit”, stating that there certainly would be “something”, I didn’t have the least idea not only of what this could be but probably if I believed what I had written or not. I probably wrote it because it sounded good, and I wanted to end it on a hopeful note. Not that there was any real reason for hope anywhere to be seen because, for me, “The Hobbit” just wasn’t the last “hot shit” before “Star Wars”. And I didn’t even seriously believe that something else would “turn up” … Well, I couldn’t possibly have imagined how true this sentence would turn out to be.

I probably still don’t know how much this experience – which was actually a lot more complex than what I described – has changed my life. The part I described was probably the biggest part, which was about reading. And I still like it a lot that it was the FAILURE to read “The Desolation of Smaug” which made me understand for the first time what actually happens when I read films. That is, when I have decided that the film is worth reading I start to actually write my own text about it. To write what I think the film, and/or certain characters, are about, and which implies a description of my personal reactions to them, emotionally, or thoughts about them which struck me as interesting. And I believe that this is, basically, what we all do when we read. But I didn’t know this - as you can easily study literature at a German university without ever hearing anything about reading! - until I became so pissed off  I couldn’t read a film I SO WANTED to read and couldn’t before I had kind of anticipated the complete context that was intended for the three films.

You might say that there is not much point in knowing this – as we are able to do it without ever thinking about it, like breathing. But this is exactly the point. Because I benefited so much from the experience of actually understanding and “developing” this that I will never be able to explain it completely, although that is what half of this blog has been about. (And this is the reason I am so grateful for the “fucked up” cinematic version even though the experience was REALLY disagreeable, but showed me as well, of course, how much I cared about the first film.)

This was probably the biggest, and fundamental, part of the experience, but there were other parts that “grew into” something which became important. And some of it I have only come to know quite recently. The next thing that happened, (partly) in the “real world”, was that I saw Richard Armitage in “The Crucible”. And this was JUST CHANCE because I would never have seen it if I hadn’t seen him in “The Hobbit” - and if I hadn’t been in the cinema by accident the week before they showed it. And, “for all this”, I wouldn’t have known that I HAD TO see it if my friend hadn’t told me that she had seen it in London. AND I still got a ticket … In a way it was more than “just chance”, maybe closer to a miracle, that I didn’t miss my only chance of seeing it. But, speaking of miracles: I have actually seen a few of them these last years. Maybe they depend on you knowing how to expect the “right” things …

Of course I had become very fast very fond of him as an actor – I’d say it happened the moment I saw Thorin enter Bag End for the first time and heard him say: “So, this is the hobbit!” in this incredible voice. As this was probably the moment I was “back” – after about ten years - with the dwarves in Middle-earth. And I couldn’t help becoming very fond of him as a person as well when I read this interview about “The Desolation of Smaug”, which is something I still cannot really believe because it is kind of “too good to be true”. (I have seen more of this as well since then …) And since I read this, expecially the part about how playing Thorin made him reconnect with what he had wanted from his carrier after EIGHT YEARS, I had wished for it not to become eight years again in a way that, if I prayed, it would have become part of my prayers every night. FOR ME, because I didn’t want to wait eight years, but FOR HIM as well. If you know how to wish for the RIGHT THING to happen, and, of course, work so hard for it, in an ideal world it should come true. But in the real world it is very seldom like this, and you need a tremendous amount of luck. As, in this case, it wasn’t just a great opportunity of doing “something different”, like “The Hobbit”, but a part he had very much wanted to play since he had been in acting school. I didn’t know anything about it when I went to the cinema, but was prepared for something special. And still he surprised me. So much that I was actually shocked at what I saw because it is impossible to imagine something SO MUCH MORE powerful than what you have seen. So now - quite like the last time! - I cannot imagine how this experience might be surpassed in the future. Nonetheless I am very confident that it will be, less confident though that I will live to see it … But at least I had THIS!

The next time I realized that “it” wasn’t over yet - as I have written at the beginning of the first appendix about “The Hobbit” – was immediately after Christmas last year when I watched the three extended cuts in a row. But the experience of reading the “Hobbit” films anew wasn’t finished then. It might be finished now – though I should have learned not to say something like this EVER AGAIN … I was extremely pleased to notice that “Middle-earth” was still “going on” kind of unnoticed, and by the way I found out about it. Which was through my choice of what, from the endless list of dvds I still want to see, I ACTUALLY BOUGHT.  Because I finally ordered three of them, and two of these were “The Office” and “Fargo”. And only after I had bought them I thought about why obviously Martin Freeman had made top of the list. Apart from the fact that I came to appreciate him more and more as a really interesting actor, but there has been a lot of competition lately. And thinking about this made me realize something about Tolkien’s world, and the way I entered it, and the way I went through it, and “where” I came out.

I’ll introduce it with a quote from my nephew Felix, who was then six or seven years old. (Now he is almost nineteen! Unbelievable …) I used to tell him the story of “The Lord of the Rings” - because, at the age of five, he was probably too young to have it read to him – over a period of at least two years. That was because I didn’t see him that often. But I know he was very much looking forward to these visits because of “The Lord of the Rings” - as I was myself because I have never seen anybody so keen on hearing a story – so much so that actually NOTHING could distract him from it. And I think the special attraction was that EXACTLY the same thing happened to both of us. That is, we both entered Tolkien’s world in exactly the same place. (Which is something that never happened to me before or since, and maybe I shouldn’t be proud to have had the same reading experience as a five year old? In fact I was tremendously pleased about it and still am. Not least because I think it was something that happened to lots of people and might contain an explanation of why this book is so great.) For both of us it was the RING METAPHOR which opened the door to Tolkien’s world. That was what I “took home” from seeing the “Fellowship” for the first time. I remember that I was impressed to find that FINALLY somebody had said something MEANINGFUL about the subject of good and evil which I hadn’t heard before. (And this might be exactly BECAUSE it is a metaphor. As it provides this freedom to think, maybe differently?, about a well-known issue.) In any case, this was what got me hooked on Tolkien’s world in the first place. And somehow I got the idea that even a five year old would understand it, and I was right. In fact I have never seen anybody getting interested in a story like this – THE MOMENT I told him about the ring! - The experience that followed this “initiation” he expressed as follows:

“I feel as if I was in this world FOR REAL, together with the elf, and the dwarf, and the hobbit.”

Which, until recently, has been the greatest thing I have ever heard somebody say about a fictional experience – though it is certainly a very common one. Every reader COULD have said that, at some point, I suppose. I could have said it but certainly wouldn’t have done. We just have this great tradition of not talking “directly” (and truthfully!) about our feelings. Which I become more and more aware I have always tried to get away from. And I have certainly found one great role model for this in the meantime. But the six year old had in fact been my first! (I suppose that is why he is one of the very few people I would now automatically not stand too close to, out of respect.)

So this was the “place” where I entered Tolkien’s universe. And, like so many others, I wanted to stay. But, metaphorically, falling in love is easy – you don’t have to do anything. Staying “in there” is the tricky part because you have to find a reason, and a “way” of staying. My reason for staying became the dwarves. They became the people I wanted to stay with and investigate, which I wanted to know everything about. This is strange because, in my experience, most people “settle down” somewhere with other humans – which are, for me, the least attractive and most questionable race of Middle-earth (- as there is certainly nobody who wants to “stay” with the orcs!). There might be a reason why it “dies off” quietly after they have taken over. But there are certainly a lot of great stories about them, whereas about the elves there are few. Nonetheless many readers fancy them, especially Legolas – even BEFORE Orlando Bloom played him. I personally dislike the elves because they are boring and condescending. But I liked Legolas – in the “Rings” films. (In “The Hobbit” I find him rather boring.) And there must be a lot of people who really like hobbits. Well, until recently I wasn’t one of them.

I remember when I “settled in” with the dwarves. Not the exact moment, but that it was “somewhere” on the journey through Moria. It might have been when Gimli suddenly stands up, in these vast halls, and begins to sing his song about Durin’s folk. I know I must have been impressed because I memorized the long poem (which, for me, was like real work!). And there is an interesting parallel to the film “An Unexpected Journey” where the dwarves begin to sing their song about the Lonely Mountain. Because, I think, you understand then intuitively who they are, and where they came from. As I said, this is probably the moment when Bilbo is getting interested. So much so that he wouldn’t have forgiven himself if he had stayed. And maybe, despite himself, he has even begun to like them …

It is probably the moment when everybody in the audience begins to like them a little bit at least, but it certainly works still better when you have already had “a history” with them. And I had. For about elven years I had waited for them, and that “love-story” goes even further back, in a way, than my relationship with “The Lord of the Rings” and Tolkien’s world. It probably began when I read my first “saga of the Icelanders”, the tale about Gísli Surs son who became an outlaw. (In fact it goes way back still to a time when I was about fourteen to sixteen and read a novel called “The Grey Man”, which was a Scandinavian story about the Vikings of which I remember nothing but the title and the deep impression it made on me.) I was instantly taken by this strange world that must have been, at the same time, kind of familiar. In the same way the dwarves became suddenly quite familiar when I read this song. And there are in fact a lot of parallels because the dwarves, as far as they are rooted in the “real world”, came from the same historical context as my Icelanders, which is pre-medieval, heathen Scandinavia. A cruel world where people are telling the truth most of the time, where humour is a kind of weapon, and a weapon just another kind of argument. But there is also a great longing for order and structure and law, and a great awareness of what lies in good relationships between people to keep disorder and bloodshed at bay. And, for whatever reason, this must be where my “roots” lie as well. (If I believed in reincarnation it would be easier to explain. I’d even bet on it, then, that, in my last life, I was male – and certainly heathen!)

So, this must have been how I “settled in” - but what I remember EXACTLY is the moment I lost my heart. And it was in an unlikely place as well. A long time “before” the “Lord of the Rings” and “The Hobbit”, even a long time before Durin’s folk makes an appearance in the annals of Middle-earth. And I was never able to make anybody understand, so my blog might just be the perfect place for it. It was in the “Silmarillion”, during one of these battles with an unutterable name, which “in the common tongue” is called the “Battle of the Unnumbered Tears”. As this was the first time, historically speaking, that we actually hear something “good” about the dwarves. Here they are all of a sudden - sprung from one of their secret hoards and deep places where they allegedly guard their gold and make beautiful things - and reveal themselves as heroes. Because, for once, they “win renown” by doing what the heroes of this age in Middle-earth do: sacrificing themselves to save the elves. Because of their toughness and fire-proof armour the dwarves from Belegost (= one of their ancient kingdoms in the Blue Mountains) are able to pin down the dragon Glaurung and prevent him from incinerating the rest of the Noldor. The elves retire from the battlefield, Glaurung kills the dwarf-king who, in death, pricks him with his long knife which instantly spoils his appetite for battle. Glaurung retires, the dwarves pick up their dead king and leave the battle-field as well, singing a dirge. End of story. And I know I shall never be able to account for the impression this little scene made on me. From the unnumbered tears shed on that battle-field mine were certainly for the dwarves …

Of course I realized this only much later and wasn’t in the least aware of how much preparation I had had for finally seeing them. And especially for this moment when Thorin comes through the door of Bag End, and suddenly “all of this” was there. (Well, “all of this” cannot have been in this little scene. As I said, I came prepared, and there is more than a little preparation in the film before that. But this is probably a really good example of how you come to see “the future in the instant”.) Anyway, this encounter made for an extremely fast burn, in fact it was more like being struck by lightning. And, at first, I didn’t take kindly to being distracted from it. Or to find reason to worry about how his story would “play out”. But the second film - where I suddenly couldn’t see “it” anymore and thought they had probably “fucked up”, or at least tried really hard NOT to think that – was an extremely healthy experience. And I am pleased to find that it has been going on until now. And has transformed and enlarged Tolkien’s world for me, making it more colourful, and perhaps brighter. I already started on it, I think, in my last blog, when I began to take a closer look at Bilbo’s story.

I am extremely pleased with the fact that, in at least two cases, it was the great acting that convinced me to take these characters more seriously and to care for them. I don’t even think I ever really liked Tauriel, but it was Evangeline Lily who MADE ME look into the elves a great deal more. And, of course, my attitude towards them had mainly been informed by prejudices. I knew that, probably, but didn’t care. And she made me care! - And Bilbo is an even greater example of this because, regrettable as this might be, the dwarves are not the centre of Tolkien’s world. The hobbits are. And without him I would never HAVE MET a hobbit. And, in the end, I think this would have been a pity! Of course Bilbo Baggins is the character that should make this happen, IF it does, but Martin Freeman is the actor who could make it happen. And it took time because  – like the dwarves! – I didn’t really take hobbits seriously. Now I think that this was Martin Freeman’s contribution to these films (and to world literature!): That he made “us” take Bilbo Baggins seriously. And I remember one thing he said about his character which might appear as a joke. He said that he could never make up his mind about the issue if Bilbo had had sex or not. Well, it was partly a joke, I reckon, but it was as well the moment I “got” it. That is, how seriously he took his character - because sex is a very serious matter for people IN REAL LIFE, which is WHY we make jokes about it. From this moment I could consciously “evaluate” what he did, and see why it was so significant. Compared to Thorin, it was an extremely slow burn, but the small flame is still burning brighter and brighter …

And there is a reason for becoming fond of Bilbo “beyond” the great acting. As there is certainly some fundamental truth about evil in these books there is some about its opposite as well. There is a lot of boring, “conventional” truth, by the way, like the information that the desire for wealth makes people evil. And Bilbo doesn’t care for gold, only for what really constitutes a better life. But this is not what makes him so special as a character. What makes him special is that he is one of the rare breed of “genuinely good” people.  Which are NOT people who are struggling to be good out of moral concern, or because they want to repair some damage their lives or the world has suffered, or because they love their children – which everybody does. They are in fact a rare breed – even more so, I think, in fiction than in real life. At least I might know more of them in real life than in a fictional context, where I have come upon exactly one of these characters before I “met” Bilbo. But this might be because I don’t pay attention to them, not unlike most people probably do. In any case, they are certainly a much rarer breed in films than genuinely bad people and the kind of good people I just tried to describe. They are people who recognize the good qualities in others, and expect them to act accordingly, because they themselves have nothing “bad” in them, no motivation at all for spite or revenge. I think we usually perceive these people as dull because they cannot see other people as what they “really” are. But this is not true. At least not always. It is just what WE THINK they are, noticing their bad or strange features in the first place. I saw then – in a way “distorted” by fiction - what I should have been able to see in real life: why genuinely good people are something infinitely valuable. And this is because they recognize and can “bring out” the good features IN OTHER PEOPLE. And Bilbo has this great quality of finding the good in other people, instead of the bad, and to act upon it. Like everything “good”, it might turn out wrong. But very often it doesn’t. It might even be the one thing that, in real life, makes the world “a better place” most of the time.

And, when I just did my final editing on appendix four, I might have suddenly found out what my real “quest” might have been. And, with that, in which way exactly Tolkien redefined the meaning of the medieval “queste” which must have held such fascination for him. For one thing, of course, he used it to “invent” “fantasy literature”. Which was certainly not his intention but of course he did! He is not only “the father” of hundreds of questionable feats of literature, full of elves, dragons, and wizards, but of hundreds of playstation games as well which are, in my opinion, the worst of the litter – not as such, but because of the impact they have had on popular culture, especially films. The benefit of which we get in abundance in the “Lord of the Rings” and “Hobbit” films. - But what we get as well, due to the outstanding achievements of the writers and actors on these films, is the “deeper” meaning of Tolkien’s “queste”, which was probably what took me in in the first place. It is something deeply rooted in people’s lives and experience, and this is probably why Tolkien’s books are so special and still “speak” to us. The deeper wisdom contained in Tolkien’s version of the “queste”, which we find both in Bilbo’s and Thorin’s story – but especially in Bilbo’s because he survives it and gets the benefit of its meaning – is that what we will find, going on a quest, will be a different experience than the one for which we set out. It is about the REAL meaning of hope, and change!, which is why it is always partly a sad experience. If things are good we don’t want them to change. Or we don’t think we do. And we all have the chance of staying home, as Bilbo does. As we all would, I suppose, if we already knew what the quest entails. But we don’t “stay home”, and exactly THIS is life. And it might even take us a long time to see what has happened to us “on the way” – having shed our prejudices, our fears and our pettiness, getting a different look at the world and the people we thought we already knew.

Appendix 4: Journey’s End: about the adventure of “reading” “The Hobbit” after „The Battle of the Five Armies“, part 4 (About how the battle was won)

Of course it was this: never being content with doing “just the obvious thing”, being prepared to take rather big risks, stepping exactly on the brink and then stopping at exactly the right moment, which made me watch all the time, and search for meaning, and worry, of course … But I was rewarded for this! My final reward for “following through” was the way my favourite moment of all the three films played out. As this has always been my absolute favourite moment of the book as well: the moment when Thorin learns that Bilbo has given the Arkenstone to Bard. And this moment turned out exactly the way I had imagined it. I had always felt that, just then, the scales are rather tipped in favour of Thorin because he experiences being hurt in the worst way anybody can be hurt. That is, by somebody you like and who you thought liked you as well. And it is absolutely clear that they wanted to show this by the way this scene is written, and, of course, by the acting. Thorin’s face is completely “naked” and vulnerable, he is on the brink of tears and clearly unable to understand or believe what is happening. What happens then I had imagined differently. I always had imagined a proper “dwarvish” fit of rage. But if I had been a director and had told an actor to do this he would probably have set me right and told me that this wasn’t possible. You cannot just go from one state of feeling “directly” to its opposite. As being hurt to a degree you want to cry is a state of weakness, whereas throwing a fit of rage is a rather strong expression of energy and activity, though it might just be an expression of helplessness as well. You might even find a way of doing this but it wouldn’t feel “right”. And it wouldn’t have helped the story they wanted to tell which is exactly the same story I had imagined. For me, the desire for revenge, at that moment, doesn’t come from rage about the Arkenstone being taken from him but from the pain of being betrayed by a friend. It is exactly the reaction everybody would show in a moment like this, just a bit more extreme: “I want you out of my sight! And I NEVER want to see you again!”

(Having seen this scene in the extended version, and with better assessment of the complete context, I rather think that I was wrong about how I understood it the first time. And this is an important issue, rather unpleasant, about watching something you care very much about. In fact, this scene is probably the part that has suffered most by the “dragon sickness” idea, which, at least where Thorin is concerned, is completely unnecessary because, in my opinion, he has more than enough motivation for what he does, and the ground for this is even laid very well in the film. This is the one reason that makes it possible to “read” this scene the way it “plays out” in the book. And carry on with my reading in the same way (as below …). But what was most decisive for this was that I could still see Thorin “through” the “dragon hide”. And I think that was finally, for me, why I am so grateful for this “feat” of acting as I have never been before. As I knew this character, and exactly THIS story, would matter so much to me. And this is exactly the point, for me, where the “battle” was won. Maybe I understand now what Richard Armitage meant when he described himself as “quite uncompromising”. Which was in conjunction with “The Crucible”, and, somehow, I don’t think he would have done that already when he was part of “The Hobbit”. On the whole, it is hard to imagine what that means exactly, being an actor! But I had never stopped wondering about the part of the interview (from “Hero Complex”) where he describes his working-relationship with Peter Jackson. I was fascinated by it in the first place because all that actors usually say about this is some equivalent of that it was “great”. And this is what he DOESN’T say. The most important thing, for him, appeared to be that he could get his director to trust HIM! And I think this may be the part about “uncompromising” that I can understand – with a lifetime’s experience of being uncompromising myself. That you have to know which part EXACTLY is non-negotiable, and that you hold on to this part at all costs. Then, and only then, can you make all the necessary compromises on the other parts. And somehow I think this is what saved Thorin. That we somehow never completely lose the substantial part of him which the actor took so much care to establish. Because he would NEVER allow this part of his work to be damaged. In a way, he kind of “froze” Thorin, making him unable to react in the “natural” way he would have reacted to anything that happens. But we can see him still very well through the surface of the “dragon armour” and the madness, and, in this way, his “coming back” always appears possible and can be achieved by someone who is able to pierce the armour. Which finally happens in the scene with Dwalin which, in my estimation, is probably the most sophisticated scene of all the three films.)

This was exactly the way I wanted it, but it is definitely not what Tolkien has written. And they might have deviated from the book a hundred times for reasons of plot, but this was really significant. Because Tolkien wanted the rage, and he wanted the biggest part of the blame laid on Thorin and his greed for gold. He was only interested in Bilbo’s part of the story, not least because he didn’t care for the dwarves one bit. He still didn’t know who they were then, nor cared. He had devised a scanty backstory for them until then, but nothing like the heartbreaking tale he told later about Thrór’s death and the Battle of Azanulbizar in the appendix of “The Lord of the Rings”. Making the films it would have been impossible to ignore that, and they took the great opportunity, in my opinion, to REWRITE Tolkien’s story the way he would have rewritten it himself – after he had come to know the dwarves and “discovered” what a great people they are. To rewrite the story and make it finally into that tale of hope he was looking for and which he couldn’t quite see yet when he wrote “The Hobbit”. Because I think this was the reason Tolkien invented this world for – apart from the languages, the heroes and battles and strange creatures of course: as a playground for finding out about the most important thing. After everything that had happened, and by which his bright world of elves and childhood tales, and youths setting out “into the world” to find … what?, had been tainted by a darkness so deep you cannot see any light, he wanted to find out if there was any hope left. And wherein it might lie. 

For Tolkien, the tale of hope he was looking for lay entirely on Bilbo’s side. His story of loyalty, friendship and the steadfast belief that the people he has given his friendship to are his friends as well. And I cannot say that often enough: it is told incomparably beautifully in the films. But in the book it doesn’t “work” as well as the same kind of tale later will work in “The Lord of the Rings”. Tolkien makes a point of the fact that Bilbo is distressed by Thorin’s death and is crying abundantly for him. But at the same time he appears to feel the need to dissociate himself from Bilbo’s grief: “He was a kindly little soul”. And this is certainly what you shouldn’t do in a film! But there is of course the inverse danger of the story becoming sentimental and pathetic, sliding downwards towards insignificance the other side of the hill. Sometimes, especially in “The Return of the King”, they were very close to doing this, maybe even overstepped the mark. But in “The Hobbit” they didn’t do that once, where the main story is concerned, mostly owing to the superior acting of Richard Armitage. He “made Thorin die” as I have never seen anybody die on screen. And this is especially special praise because most actors do that very well. Of course Bilbo’s spontaneous and desperate crying matches the “dying-act” perfectly, leaving the audience in no doubt as to what they are supposed to feel at that moment .

I think, in the film we understand completely why Bilbo is crying, whereas in the book it actually might have been because he is somebody who cries easily. Or it might even be a totally normal reaction to cry when you have just survived a battle and some of the people you were close to are dead??? But Tolkien wanted him to grieve for THORIN, and this is much less understandable. Because Thorin is the one who has just tried to kill him and who hasn’t treated him very well in the past, by the way. Well, he apologized, in the end … But Tolkien WANTED Bilbo to grieve, and there is a story somewhere in there just waiting to come out.

I was a bit pissed off at first that they had managed to squeeze a love story into a tale where, for once!, there was no slot for a love story anywhere to be seen. (Even in the “Lord of the Rings” we have got Aragorn and Arwen, and Eowyn of course.) But I began to perceive this differently when I became aware of the theme of HOPE as a recurring theme in the films. And it appears in different guises in more than one story-line. I first spotted it in the Kíli-Tauriel story when they are talking about the starlight and the “fire-moon”, two different worlds touching each other through a theme they both understand. A beautiful scene, set against the fierce hatred of the two leaders, Thranduil and Thorin, who, like ice and fire, wouldn’t be able to find an inch of common ground. In fact, love is one major source of hope – and Tolkien probably wouldn’t disagree with this. And it is even great that all the three major forms of love are covered in the films. Here it is love, as we usually understand it: as the exclusive relationship between two people of the opposite sex. And because it is exclusive it might cause pain to the excluded party, or, if the exclusive bond is broken, even greater pain to at least one of the lovers. There might be hope in this kind of love, but a great potential for destruction as well. And it is not Tolkien’s great tale of hope – even though in real life it might have been.

The next, more promising, candidate is the kind of love that actually is “everywhere”, is experienced by almost everyone, and is usually noticed least: the love between parents and children, respectively between different members of a family. This tale of hope is contained in the tale of Bard and his children. And it gets very important in the sense that they are the ones who redeem the race of men in the eyes of the audience from being just the kind of scum the dwarves reckon them to be, exemplified so beautifully by the Master of Lake-town and his loathsome deputy, Alfrid. So, all of these characters fall into their slot within the “big” story perfectly and contribute to this beautifully complex tale. Because the Master of Lake-town and Alfrid despise the dwarves at least as much as Thranduil and Legolas do. And the other way round. And this is because none of these peoples is the least bit interested in the others, except as an opportunity for making money, and, consequently, doesn’t know anything about their good qualities, which, in some cases, might be inexistent, or, as in the case of the dwarves, really hard to get at. The only hope, living in a world like this, appears to consist in this unbreakable bond of kinship. But even if this may be the strongest and most common bond of love – it is NOT Tolkien’s great tale of hope.

It is in fact the tale about friendship and loyalty between a hobbit and a dwarf which contains Tolkien’s major theme of hope that is developed further in “The Lord of the Rings”. And it is not even told in the book but lies somewhere “in there”, like something within an egg that hasn’t hatched. Everything is there but not yet ready to be unfolded. And one half of the tale is certainly developed more than the other: the part about Bilbo and his friendship with the dwarves. Not surprisingly, as Tolkien knew very well who Bilbo was when he wrote his first sentence, whereas he had spent very little thought on the dwarves. When Bilbo gives the Arkenstone to Bard in the film he explains that he isn’t doing it for him but “his friends” who might be “obstinate”, “pig-headed”, “difficult” and worse but are as well “brave, kind, loyal to a fault”. I think that Tolkien would have disagreed with part of this and might have been displeased with the way it is shown in the films, but he certainly had a notion of the dwarves being brave when he wrote their story for the appendix, and loyalty was even a more central theme because it is what makes the dwarves special and “stand out” as a people of Middle-earth. This becomes apparent, for example, when he makes Gandalf tell the story about how he convinced Thorin to take Bilbo “on board” in the “Unfinished Tales”: Gandalf says that he is very fond of Bilbo and promises Thorin his friendship to the end of his days if he treats him well. And continues: “I said that without hope of persuading him; but I could have said nothing better. Dwarves understand devotion to friends and gratitude to those who help them.”

And, in my opinion, the reason for this changed attitude towards the dwarves is that, in the meantime, he had gone further investigating the place where he had first found them: Snorri Sturluson’s “Edda” where he took all the dwarf-names from. As a “place” I don’t refer to the actual text but its historical context, being medieval Scandinavia and its “saga” literature. There we find a lot of interesting facts about an archaïc society and its people. In my opinion this is where Tolkien found what his dwarves were meant to be, as a people of Middle-earth. I cannot explore this further here, just the part about loyalty and the relationship between Bilbo and Thorin. It is devised as a typical pre-medieval relationship between a powerful leader and his follower. Which is, by the way, the structure behind the “Lord of the Rings” theme. In archaïc times the rings were just bigger, as they were arm-rings of massive silver or gold. And the “ring-giver” was always the most powerful one, the leader who dealt out such rings to his most valued followers. Unlike a medieval king, who wields more or less absolute power, such a leader is the one with the superior qualities that make others follow him. Their personal evaluation of him is as important as his personal evaluation of them, as they are following him by choice as the one of whom they reckon they will benefit most. And he elects those who are especially valuable to him and whom he trusts most. And they will be honoured and rewarded above the others.

This appears to be a kind of relationship Tolkien believed in as a structure of humanity which is further developed in the “Lord of the Rings”. At a first glance it doesn’t feel very contemporary, but it is still a very common kind of relationship in a context where the two parties have to work closely together to achieve a common aim. For example the relationship between actor and director which is covered in the aforementioned interview by Richard Armitage in a rather interesting way as one requiring mutual appreciation and TRUST.

I cannot cover every angle of Bilbo’s and Thorin’s story here, instead I shall focus on the smaller “bits”, as I have been so delighted every time I noticed one of them and as they are the best proof of how complex and significant the work on these films has been. In the first film we see Thorin THINKING a lot. (Probably not the favourite direction for an actor: "Think!" Because we are doing it all the time but it doesn't "show".) I had noticed this from the start but had only been able to make complete sense of it at the very end of the journey. It is done “expressly”, and, unlike Bilbo’s continuous thinking that is like a commentary to “enhance” what is going on at his angle, Thorin’s thinking is like a nagging question: What is he just thinking about? The answer is quite obvious, at least after having seen the first film, but, like many of the small “bits”, it is gathering significance throughout the whole story. It is about Bilbo of course, to find out if his first evaluation of him, which is probably somewhere below zero, is correct. But he has Gandalf’s favourable account as well, and Gandalf apparently is somebody he trusts – as far as he is able to trust anybody who is not a dwarf. By the end of the first stage of the journey Thorin will be fully satisfied as to how valuable and trustworthy Bilbo is. But by “looking into him” something else would have been achieved: He would have come to KNOW this strange creature a hobbit is to him, even better than others he has always known and taken for granted.

And there is a similar story told on Bilbo’s side. On his first encounter with Thorin he gets to know him as somebody who is arrogant and overbearing, jumping to conclusions about him at first sight – hitting the nail on the head, by the way! Not unlike Bilbo himself, he cannot know anything about the “hidden” qualities that Gandalf has sensed in him already. But Bilbo certainly feels that he doesn’t deserve to be treated with such disregard and contempt by somebody who is a guest in his house. It reminds me a bit of the first appearance of John Thornton in “North and South” which I always feel wouldn’t have “worked” as well with any other actor. Because making him THAT disagreeable requires that the audience will still be “with you”, or rather “with him”, after that. And they were quite certain of that! Whatever it is, we have to assume that it is not just about having such very blue eyes. At least in the case of Bilbo who is getting definitely interested, less in Thorin at first than in the whole “story”. But he probably gets a feeling very early on that there is some “hidden meaning” as well. We first get a glimpse of it when we hear the dwarves singing that beautiful song, Thorin’s voice leading them on “far over the Misty Mountains” where they are longing to go. It is certainly then that Bilbo is making up his mind – unknown to himself as yet – to go with them and explore these strange places and stories for himself. But it might already be the beginning of something he will fully understand only much later and “develop” as a motive for him to be on that quest and help: He is moved by the tragic fate of the dwarves and their dire predicament, especially where Thorin is concerned. For this he will have to suffer a great deal still, not least from Thorin himself, and he has just decided to give up on them and on the quest and go back home when suddenly a lot of things happen. And, at the end of that, he gets a completely unexpected and very strong expression of what it is like when a dwarf becomes fond of you. - You can see that he is rather taken aback at first because, as a rule, he doesn’t know what to expect from Thorin at all, and, after all the unpleasantness, what is THIS supposed to mean? And, I think, the audience shares his puzzlement. But it will become apparent later that this is the decisive moment of change in their relationship. It isn’t even that Thorin will treat him much “nicer” after that, apart from showing respect for his judgment and his suggestions about how things should be done. But both of them have understood something about the other that will change everything. At the end of the first film another bargain is struck “within” the bond of loyalty: They have come to UNDERSTAND each other and be friends.

It is certainly the beginning of a beautiful friendship, but also one against enormous odds. The odds being mostly who Thorin is – and there is a lot of “hidden content” still to be unfolded. One of the “bits” I liked a lot is the way they are playing with the sentence: “I am not my grandfather”, respectively: “You are not your grandfather”, which Thorin and Gandalf use, Thorin even twice, I think. Professor Tolkien, as a linguist, would have loved it too, as he did something similar at the beginning of “The Hobbit” by letting Gandalf lay down the different meanings the simple phrase “Good Morning!” can take. Here you are expressly invited to add context, and this is what I love about it. Because if you take the invitation, start thinking about it just a little bit, you might have a chance to get at the really interesting part of the story. For Gandalf, who is the one who knows best about the hidden meaning, and the hidden danger concerning their mission, it is an invitation for Thorin to reconsider: NOT to act as if he was his grandfather. Whereas Thorin uses the sentence to fend off exactly that notion: that he might turn out like his grandfather. And the way he does – or rather doesn’t - deal with this is proof of how little he had been able to deal with his personal “trauma”: the dragon coming to Erebor and taking everything away from him, every promise his life had held of wealth, power, and greatness. Deep inside he knows that he “is” his grandfather, in a way, as he carries his heritage with him, and he cannot afford NOT to be a success, like his father who, at least in the films, tried to defeat Azog and failed, and then tried to go to Erebor and failed as well. Thorin knows: when he goes he has at least to achieve SOMETHING. And there is another side to his “trauma” that will prove even more decisive and deadly for any relationship with people who are not dwarves. It is the reason that in neither of his conversations with Thranduil or Bard there is the least potential for achieving an agreement, and I think it is felt deepest in the way he says a sentence like: “Those who have lived through dragon fire should rejoice. They have much to be grateful for.” Or just: “I am listening!” (to Bard). I refrain from describing the voice, but for a “voice fetishist” there is no greater pleasure than to hear how much meaning can be conveyed JUST by a voice. - It is this deep satisfaction finally to be in a position of power, of finally being able to take his revenge, that says most about how much it had hurt: that nobody had helped them, after the dragon came, that they had been treated as “dwarf-scum” the moment they ceased being valuable as a source of income. Not that he probably spent a single thought on the reasons for this, which might not lie ENTIRELY on the side of elves and men. Nor on how much Thrór would have helped them in similar circumstances! Although Thorin himself might have been different THEN.

But this is what he has become, and, understanding this, the “dragon sickness” can take on a completely different meaning. In the film it serves more than one purpose, the most important in this context being that it explains how Bilbo can still like Thorin and excuse his behaviour because he pities him. But in fact it is done very well and doesn’t destroy the “psychological ground” laid for Thorin. It is even rather likely, as none of the other dwarves is touched by the evil, that he “got” it mostly because of what had been wrong with him before. Being suddenly so close to what you have always wished for but never have been able to imagine might have all kinds of effects even on a stronger and healthier mind. Thorin’s is certainly tarnished BEFORE he goes in there! - Nonetheless it is important to understand as well that Thorin has ALWAYS been prepared to risk everything, for himself and others!, to achieve his aim. And here the difficulty of a friendship of two such different people becomes apparent. Because Bilbo is neither able to understand the complete “hidden context” of Thorin, nor will he ever be able to understand somebody who is prepared to act like this. This is the reason he misjudges Thorin – finally putting his own life at risk. And there is no doubt at all, by the way, that Thorin would have killed him, and I think that Bilbo is fully aware of that. He is certainly not naïve, on the contrary: I rather like the way Martin Freeman is playing him as somebody who is really smart. But still, against all the odds, he holds fast to the belief that Thorin is who he thinks he is – or who he KNOWS he is! - because Thorin has opened his heart to him. And this turns out to be true as well, in the end. It is true as, against all the odds, Thorin knows about friendship and its worth. As he says: “True friends are hard to come by.” There is no doubt that he is Bilbo’s friend and trusts him implicitly, until he is, in his own eyes, betrayed by him. And, at that moment, for him there is no way he might see the true friendship behind the betrayal. - It is in fact a complex story, not just “the usual thing” with easy questions and simple answers we already know. And this is, of course, why it is such a beautiful story.

I have been carrying on for quite a while now without quoting Richard Armitage, so it is probably time to do that again. This time it is a snippet from the documentation of “An unexpected journey”, and it was totally without context, so, at first, I didn’t understand what it was about. It is just Peter Jackson explaining that Thorin is leading Bilbo on a ledge, and Richard Armitage asking if this was “post-coital, or pre-“? – I am still not certain which scene they are talking about, but the “coital” bit can only refer to the moment Thorin is folding Bilbo in his arms. Anyway, I was rather pleased with the metaphor, apart from its being so hilarious, because it is about as how important that scene was perceived, structurally, as this moment of climax in their relationship. And because of the way it nails the aspect of LOVE as an important part of the story. Because friendship certainly is a form of love, although it is not commonly perceived as love. Or rather there is a feeling that there has to be a distinction: that sexual love and parental love are “higher” or “stronger” forms of love, whereas friendship is seen as a “lower”, more casual, form of love. Which, in our times, we wouldn’t even refer to as “love”. But in “former times” it was seen exactly the other way round. Because sexual and parental love are “natural” forms of love, whereas friendship is certainly an achievement. Especially in dire circumstances like these, but probably always. There has to be that decisive moment when you have revealed part of your “heart” to someone, and the other person has shown you part of his’. As parental love is just “natural” – you cannot HELP loving your child, your parent or sibling – and sexual love is often much more about yourself – what you need or want yourself – friendship is entirely ABOUT the other person. There is no other “reason” in it for love than what you see in the other, or what he MEANS to you. And this presupposes that you have taken pains to KNOW him - that you actually have come to “know his heart”.

When I “revisited” Tolkien’s “Hobbit” after having seen “The Desolation of Smaug”, reading “Macbeth” at the same time, I found that the world of “The Hobbit” and Shakespeare’s aren’t actually such different worlds at all. In contrast to “The Lord of the Rings” Middle-earth is then an ugly and dismal place, where even elves are not always “great”, where nobody trust the other, everybody struggling for his own life and gain. Even heroism and “greatness” are probably not part of the solution and are saved for extreme measures – as they should be! But within this world still lies the potential for something else. And this is the way Tolkien wanted it to be. There still is this little flame of hope, somewhere. But, same as in a real world, “true friends are hard to come by” – and hope probably even harder. And it really is this VERY SMALL flame because, at an overall view, there is no hope anywhere to be seen. Not for Thorin, who dies just before he has finally come into his inheritance, and, before his death, has seen his closest kin die as well. There isn’t any hope left for him, as it might seem. But this isn’t quite true. Of all the great things the writers on these films have done, in my opinion, one of the greatest feats of writing is the way they transformed the words Thorin says to Bilbo before he dies. I was so fascinated I couldn’t even cry. Because it is almost exactly the same content as in the book, only they have “translated” the speech from one a king would make on his death-bed in front of his followers – and in the book they are all in attendance! – to something a friend would say to a friend. And this is why I didn’t mind the notion of the dwarves having such bad manners - or rather no manners at all! - as a counterpart of being able to express their feelings “directly”: When the time has come Thorin has no problem at all to express everything that is on his heart exactly as he feels it. And, of course, Richard Armitage is able to make this moment as strong and beautiful as it has to be. - And here I see the moment of hope for Thorin, which is probably why it isn’t as sad as it may seem: In conveying his feelings to Bilbo he accounts to himself for how important their friendship has been for him. Because, finally knowing what it has been about, how exactly Bilbo has touched his heart, he finds how he himself is changed. He can see “beyond” the horizon of his own dreadful fate and behold a more hopeful place. And this might not appear to be much, but, facing death, it might be the greatest hope you will ever get!

For Bilbo there is still a much longer journey. He is left with the pain of having lost a friend, of hopes being destroyed. And he is not at all certain what to “make of it”. I don’t know but maybe, though he has certainly been able to forgive, he hasn’t been able to FORGET that Thorin had tried to throw him off the wall with his own hands – as he probably hasn’t forgotten how he had folded him in his arms. And, as he is taking his leave of the dwarves, he just knows that he isn’t able to close the book on Thorin yet, to finally determine what he has been for him. But of course he KNOWS – because when he is asked later, quite “out of context”, who Thorin Oakenshield is, he answers spontaneously: “He was a friend”. And maybe this is the moment when his story of hope is about to BEGIN. As he probably will come to understand by and by how the experience of this friendship has changed HIM – to the point of changing his whole life. He has gone on an adventure, not knowing in the least what he might find. And what he has found is STILL very different. There is a lot of pain as well, of a totally unexpected kind, and maybe even after sixty years he hasn’t come to terms with everything. But he certainly feels that he has found SOMETHING.

Well, whatever he did find, not all of it might actually be “good”. Because he has in fact found something in the goblin tunnels which, in the film version, becomes almost instantly so precious to him that he isn’t even prepared to tell Gandalf the truth about it. (Great writing, again!) It is quite obvious that this will be a nastier and much more devious thing than it has been in its “virginal” state in “The Hobbit”. My favourite quote, as I said:

“This is the Arkenstone of Thráin, the heart of the mountain. And it is also the heart of Thorin.”

It is all “in there”: this ultimate “thing of beauty”, the utterly desirable which “crowns all”. If you can see it you will never be able to look the other way again, you will want to achieve that aim, whatever the costs. And if you have had it, in a way, you will always want more of it. - This we cannot have because it is all finished now. But there certainly will be SOMETHING …?