Fantasy Film Post 9/11

F. Pheasant-Kelly

• Publisher: Palgrave Macmillan
• Year: 2016
• ISBN:
  9780230392137
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: Social History
• Index: History

Examining a range of fantasy films released in the past decade, Pheasant-Kelly looks at why these films are meaningful to current audiences. The imagery and themes reflecting 9/11, millennial anxieties, and environmental disasters have furthered fantasy's rise to dominance as they allow viewers to work through traumatic memories of these issues.

C H A P T E R 1

SETTINGS, SPECTACLE, AND THE OTHER: PICTURING DISGUST IN JACKSON’S THE LORD OF THE RINGS TRILOGY

THE THREE FILMS COMPRISING PETER JACKSON’S (2001–2003) ADAPTATION of J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings (1954) each achieved critical acclaim and commercial success on their release and currently remain in the Internet Movie Database’s top 26 of all-time top-grossing films.¹ In total, the 3 films also gained nominations for 30 Academy Awards, winning 17 of them.² The Return of the King (2003) won all 11 Academy awards for which it was nominated, included Best Picture. The first of the trilogy, The Fellowship of the Ring, was released in December 2001 and, together with its contemporary, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, signaled the onset of fantasy’s rise to dominance. Undoubtedly, Peter Jackson’s cinematic accomplishments derived considerably from the films’ source material, thereby accessing readymade audiences to whom the films were actively marketed (Wasko, 2008), though this also directed inevitable critical attention to the films’ differences from their literary origins (Fuller, 2002; Rateliff, 2011). (While some of these deviations from the novel revolved around omissions and alteration of events, another involved the amplification of female roles, which was designed to widen appeal). Indeed, in his claim for an Easternization of the West, Campbell declares that Tolkien was instrumental in “pioneering the turn from realistic to fantasy fiction that has been such a marked feature of popular culture over the last 40 years” (2010: 748). Martin Barker elucidates the extension of the spiritual appeal of Tolkien’s novel to the films, noting that “where Tolkien’s books have been long known and have attained a determinate cultural presence, the films attract a distinct following who love them as a form of nonreligious spirituality” (2008: 175). Arguably, the knowledge that readers already had of the dark resonances of the novel, together with Jackson’s reputation for gothic horror, suggest that film audiences likely anticipated the sombre tone of the films. Certainly, the trailer for The Fellowship of the Ring focuses on the film’s darkest elements, rather than on its optimistic features, and mostly incorporates those scenes that conjure disturbing arresting imagery.

The trilogy’s plot follows the character of Frodo Baggins in his quest to return a ring, which possesses evil powers, to the site of Mount Doom. Initially, a Fellowship of nine embarks on the endeavor, though eventually only Sam (Sean Astin) accompanies Frodo in completing their mission. Frodo’s quest requires him to traverse a series of landscapes, each of which present a challenge and involve threats to survival and compromises to morality. At each of these points, Frodo almost succumbs to the Ring’s evil influence, potentially signifying a loss of morality and conscience that are associated with a desire for power. As well as exemplifying Campbell’s claim for an Easternization of values in its emphasis on spiritual and magical dimensions and also reflecting on “technology and nature” in its environmental messages, the films’ engagement with war and conflict provides opportunities for alignment with 9/11 and the war on terror. This chapter attempts to reconcile these aspects of Jackson’s The Lord of the Rings trilogy with its commercial and critical profile, suggesting that its spectacles of abject, sublime, and surreal horror unconsciously mobilized spectator emotion after 9/11 through initiating a “network of associations” (Klinger, 2006) in ways that are parallel to the reception of Tolkien’s original novel. These associations are akin to Luckhurst’s concept of multidirectional memory in that audiences may interpret the films’ World War inferences through the lens of the recent war on terror. Jack Zipes’s commentary proves illuminating here, where he refers to C. N. Manlove:

The trilogy came just when disillusion among the American young at the Vietnam War and the state of their own country was at a peak. Tolkien’s fantasy offered an image of the kind of rural conservationist ideal or escape for which they were looking (it could also be seen as describing, through the overthrow of Sauron, the destruction of the US). (Manlove in Zipes, 2002: 175)

The resonances of the original novel with audiences of the 1960s may thus find parallels in Jackson’s films for contemporary audiences. Certainly, a number of scholars have already commented on this possibility (Gelder, 2006; Kellner, 2006; Leotta, 2011; Phillips, 2007). Unlike some fantasy films that have intentionally incorporated imagery pertaining to 9/11, it is not possible to construe images from The Lord of the Rings films as consciously referencing current events. This is partly because Tolkien’s triptych was published much earlier. Moreover, Peter Jackson completed most of the filming for the trilogy before September 2001. Nonetheless, several nuances of the film, such as a series of long shots cutting to low-angle camera perspectives of the firework display in the early scenes of The Fellowship of the Ring, elicit inevitable recall of 9/11 events. Here, one firework assumes a plane-like form during its flight, while another explodes into missile-like flames, the onlookers running away and looking upward in fear. Viewers may identify with this scene, as footage of 9/11 constantly featured onlookers running away and looking upward in a similar manner. In addition, several commentators have correlated the novel and films’ border awareness and militarism with increased national security measures and the military interventions of the war on terror. It is also feasible that the imagery Tolkien conjured for the postwar reader resonates vicariously with audiences of Jackson’s trilogy in relation to its original contexts. By this, I refer to, for example, the interpretation of Gollum (Andrew Serkis) as a concentration-camp victim (Kellner, 2006: 28)—contemporary audiences too are familiar with Holocaust imagery, while his emaciated appearance connotes famine, the ubiquity of media, and internet images (that were unavailable at the time of Tolkien’s novel), now making these sights familiar. The figure of Gollum thus elicits emotion from multiple perspectives, the reframing of the novel as film arguably provoking spectator engagement through a broader spectrum of shared global histories than recent commentaries reveal. Here I explore other implications for post-9/11 audiences, primarily through the notion of abject spectacle, which, on the one hand, generically relates to Frodo’s quest (for subjectivity), and on the other, activates links with mortality, warfare, and infiltration. Referring to Kristeva’s concept of abjection (1982), Carl Plantinga’s discussion of disgust (2009), and Klinger’s notion of the arresting image (2006), this chapter thus connects instances of abject spectacle narratively with Frodo’s subjectivity and aligns them with postmillennial anxieties for audiences who, only eight weeks before the first film’s release, had witnessed first-hand the effects of terror and violation. It considers these in relation to the films’ other aesthetics of surrealism and the sublime, which together operate to signify the visual oppositions between settings and characters as being either good or evil.

ABJECTION AND DISGUST

Kristeva’s analysis of abjection pivots around the issue of a coherent identity, largely arising through compromises to a sense of self, and provoking reactions of disgust as part of maintaining psychic integrity. In other words, she deals with the mental conception of disgust as threat. Nonetheless, Kristeva discusses such reactions as intensely physical phenomena, referring to “gagging sensations [ . . . ] spasms in the stomach [and] sight-clouding dizziness” (1982: 3). In contrast, Plantinga deals more specifically with physiological reasons for such responses to disgust and further considers its manifestation and effects within cinema. In Plantinga’s schema, disgust stems from biological necessity but is subject to modification by social factors. Claiming therefore that “physical disgust soon shades into socio-moral disgust” (2009: 205), Plantinga explains that in cinema “physical disgust is used to create [ . . . ] moral or ideological antipathy towards certain characters and their actions and to promote their condemnation” (2009: 212). In Jackson’s The Lord of the Rings, disgust works in relation to Frodo’s constitution of subjectivity in line with the fantasy narrative quest as rite of passage. His negotiation of vile, visceral spaces, which is apparent in the trilogy, has parallels with the exclusion of bodily detritus that is vital to the maintenance and development of subjectivity. In resisting the power of the Ring, he rejects immoral action, which Kristeva further designates as abject. However, the trilogy’s expression of disgust also functions in Plantinga’s biological/sociomoral mode, not only to conjure the horrors of war but also to elicit negative spectator emotions concerning environmental destruction and boundary infiltration through settings and characterization. Certainly, there is close alliance and overlap between the two forms. For Kristeva, abjection further involves the exclusion of other forms of “difference,” which may be racially motivated, and loss of ego through psychological disturbance. Consequently, any violation that “disturbs identity, system, order” is liable to abjection (Kristeva, 1982: 4), especially the decaying corpse, while in relation to abject immoral acts, Kristeva cites the Nazi regime as an example (1982: 4). These aspects provide obvious alignments with The Lord of the Rings, in its scenes of disgusting Orc “birth,” its racial subtext and its preoccupation with boundary infiltration. Further, there are analogies implied between Saruman’s regime and Nazism (with recent film audiences liable to interpret Tolkien’s allusions to totalitarianism as terrorism). Frodo’s transient episodes of disorientation, akin to PTSD (and therefore significant to certain post-9/11 audiences), signify a loss of identity, consistent with the psychic dimension of abjection but also meaningful as a response to physically and morally repugnant experiences (where disgust may be threatening both to psychic and to biological integrity).

Indeed, the literalness of abjection evident in the films is highly suggestive of the death and decay associated with war, reflective of Tolkien’s own experiences of World War but relevant to contemporary viewers too in relation to the war on terror, for example, in relation to regular reports of soldiers killed or maimed in Afghanistan. The allusions to female reproduction and sexuality as monstrous threat, evident both in the novel and in the films, seem incongruous with 9/11 discourse but nonetheless convey scenes of extreme terror and disgust, which target contemporary anxieties by exposing the vulnerabilities of its characters. In particular, the sequences of repulsive reproduction activate associations with genetic engineering and environmental manipulation.

Spatial boundaries too are significant in The Lord of the Rings and have sociocultural implications for the development of subjectivity, and relevance to the landscapes of the fantasy quest. Cultural geographer, David Sibley (1995; 1999) extends Kristeva’s ideas to geographical margins and borders and suggests a tendency to abjection because they are liable to incursion by marginalized groups that may be contaminating or dangerous. His argument is relevant to The Lord of the Rings where attention focuses on geographical perimeters, specifically in their relation to “racially” defined territories, and Frodo’s passage through them, and provokes meanings of boundary infiltration for a postmillennial security-conscious audience.

ARRESTING IMAGERY

Examples of disgust in Jackson’s trilogy often mobilize spectator anxieties through spectacles that invoke Klinger’s concept of the “arresting image” (2006). The way in which “the forward motion of the narrative slows down or temporarily halts, allowing the spectacle to fully capture our attention” (Klinger, 2006: 24) is particularly relevant to Frodo’s unstable mental status. When Frodo falls under the influence of the Ring, imagery consistently assumes “an additionally unusual temporal status, often appearing outside of time in a fantasy or dream-like dimension” (Klinger, 2006: 24). Here, the films’ sound temporarily distorts and commonly accompanies disturbing or surreal imagery, corresponding closely with Frodo’s threatened subjectivity, and is highly suggestive of trauma, reflecting Tolkien’s wartime experiences (though is also representative of Sauron’s evil power). These distorted visuals dissect such scenes from the film’s narrative as arresting images, thereby amplifying their emotional resonances. Moreover, they tend to be constituted through digital technology, producing surreal extended “timespaces” as a mode of constructing the effects of PTSD as spectacle. Digital enhancement further arises in the many battle scenes, multiplying the number of soldiers to appear as vast armies that extend into the distance, thereby amplifying their spectacular aspects. In short, such scenarios are not only visually spectacular but constantly recruit feelings either of power (when on the winning side) or of helplessness (in the face of the enemy) for audiences. In such cases, an ultimate outcome of survival in the face of adversity inevitably proves cathartic.

The films provide arresting imagery in other characters too, reconfiguring the terrorist as abject (and technological) spectacle in the form of Gollum, Sauron, and the Orcs. Indeed, Susanne Eichner et al. reveal critical reception interpreting the Uruk-Hai as al-Qaeda terrorists (2006: 151). Moreover, The Lord of the Rings consistently associates threat with the East, perhaps conveying generalized Orientalist attitudes, but also summoning links with al-Qaeda for some audiences. For example, the voiceover at the beginning of The Fellowship of the Ring comments on a shadow in the East, while there is a racial element both to the novel and to the films. Alfio Leotta acknowledges this “racial” enterprise, noting that “the conflict that tears apart Middle Earth is based upon a clear opposition between white and black races” (2011: 178), though others contest this (through noting the whiteness of the evil Saruman). Leotta continues that “the reception of the films has incorporated the Western anxieties of the time: terrorist menace, fear of the Other and concerns about the prospects of an impending global catastrophe” (2011: 179). He further proposes that

Jackson’s LOTR did not merely provide an escape from the real world. It went as far as replacing it and constituting itself as a heterotopia: on the one hand, articulating political conservative discourses that were popular among the Western audiences of the time, on the other, proposing the immersion in a consistent cultural and geographical space—Middle Earth—in which conflicts between good and evil are clearly structured and successfully resolved. (Leotta, 2011: 181)

This opposition between good and evil materializes in the landscapes and settings, which are often rendered especially striking or memorable through the strategies of the arresting image, serving to mobilize terror, awe, fascination, or disgust through intertextual references that invite associations with anxieties and environmental issues that are contemporary to the films’ releases.

SPECTACULAR SETTINGS

This is not to say that the films’ visuals are consistently pessimistic or terrifying. Rather, in contrast to scenes of abjection, many of the films’ landscapes are rural and verdant and undoubtedly contribute to the trilogy’s appeal and emotional response. In The Fellowship of the Ring, the colors of the Shire contrast distinctly with the opening monochrome palette of the battle scenes and provide idyllic images of unspoilt countryside. Otherwise, landscapes are grand and sublime, surveyed through expansive sweeping camera movements that generate feelings of awe, wonderment, and freedom. As Leotta (2011: 172) notes, “The use of dizzying camera movements and spectacular locations are just some of the strategies employed by Jackson to reiterate the importance of space and movement in his films” (2011: 173). A common visual strategy of the films involves an extreme overhead panoramic shot that shows its protagonists miniaturized against a vast landscape, the use of helicopter camera shots providing moments of contemplation in line with King’s (2003) analysis of large-scale spectacle, before cutting in to close-ups of the characters. Leotta particularly draws attention to an opposition of left versus right movement within the films, whereby “the positive characters consistently enter the frame from the left side and always move towards the right [while] the villains [ . . . ] enter from the right” (2011: 173).

Jonathan Rayner highlights a dichotomy in the filmic settings too, noting the differentiation of nature and culture in the landscape itself, and describing “Mordor [as] a blighted land of volcanoes and ash” (2010: 265). Indeed, a common metaphor for the good/evil binary is the framing of sublime, snow-capped mountains set against the distant, flaming, cloud-laden Mount Doom. The films also observe a further vertically orientated spatial opposition, frequently distinguishing good from evil by aligning the latter with subterranean spaces. Indeed, abject spaces tend to be below ground,³ and often form a network of tunnels and caverns underlying snow-capped, sublime vistas. Moreover, the films’ deep spaces regularly entail a second characteristic cinematographic approach—that of a rapidly edited sequence involving an overhead shot zooming rapidly downward. This often gives the viewer an impression of falling—in fact, this theme is a recurrent visual motif of the films. For example, during the siege of Gondor, in The Return of the King (2003), the airborne Ringwraiths drop bodies from a great height, seen first from an extreme high-angle shot, before cutting to ground level to highlight falling debris and crashing sounds. Similarly, in The Fellowship of the Ring and The Two Towers (2002), Gandalf’s (Ian McKellen) fall at the Bridge of Khazad-dûm is prolonged. The additional implications of the collapse of buildings, caverns, and edifices, together with frequent overhead shots on the edges of precipices that reveal acutely sheer drops, provide further visual potential for evoking 9/11 in relation to bodies falling from the Twin Towers. One such scene occurs in the first film as the nine members of The Fellowship of the Ring attempt to navigate the pass of Caradhras. On the one hand, its sublime imagery induces pleasure through grandeur, while on the other, extreme long shots of the mountain, which visualise the group as tiny specks, emphasize their perilous position on a narrow path that follows the edge of a sheer precipice, and which cuts away below them. Simultaneously, Saruman’s conjuring of a blizzard that triggers falling boulders and landslides conveys similarities to the falling debris during the destruction of the Twin Towers. This semblance is also distinct in a later scene when the group come under attack by a fire-breathing monster, the Balrog, at the Bridge of Khazad-dûm. In evading the Balrog, an overhead camera angle reve...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Dedication
• Contents
• List of Illustrations
• Acknowledgments
• Introduction
• 1. Settings, Spectacle, and the Other: Picturing Disgust in Jackson’s The Lord of the Rings Trilogy
• 2. Bewitching, Abject, Uncanny: Magical Spectacle in the Harry Potter Films
• 3. Pirate Politics and the Spectacle of the Other: Pirates of the Caribbean
• 4. Resurrection, Anthropomorphism, and Cold War Echoes in Adamson’s The Chronicles of Narnia; the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
• 5. The Aesthetics of Trauma: Temporality and Multidirectional Memory in Pan’s Labyrinth
• 6. Reframing the Cold War in the Twenty-First Century: Action, Nostalgia, and Nuclear Holocaust in Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
• 7. The Ecstasy of Chaos: Mediations of 9/11, Terrorism, and Traumatic Memory in The Dark Knight
• 8. Wounding, Morality and Torture: Reflections of the War on Terror in Iron Man and Iron Man 2
• 9. Shock and Awe: Terror, Technology, and the Sublime Nature of Cameron’s Avatar
• Conclusion
• Notes
• Bibliography
• Filmography
• Index