* The love story of this telenovela villainess runs like, well, a telenovela, what with its interesting twists and turns. She’s a good actress, all right, but she seems to score low as far as love relationship is concerned. She recently ended her live-in relationship with the son of a very popular actor by simply vanishing into thin air. As simple and as fast as that – she packed her things and left home, with her home companion and their child wondering where she went. As in the telenovelas, the romance has reached a cliffhanger. Questions: Did she, 1) go with another man, 2) go with another woman, or 3) leave the guy because he’s earning much less and she’s earning much more? Abangan ang susunod na episode.
* Could it be true that this semi-retired actress (now raring to make a comeback) is often seen at the casino these days? Could it also be true that she and her family (her mother and child) have moved to a condo unit because they disapproved of her (the actress’) stepfather’s coming back to their house after a long absence?
* Has this TV host really changed his, uh, wayward ways and decided to be a good family man by devoting his off-work time only to his wife and children? If so, how come he’s constantly rumored to be still, ehem, chasing skirts? During a recent out-of-town telecast, he insisted that a sexy guest co-host travel without any chaperon – you know, so that the coast would be clear. The girl’s "handler" put his foot down, much to the TV host’s frustration.
Hold your collective breath, dear Ring lovers, and read on:
Soon after the first movie came out, Vincenz Serrano, a poet at the Ateneo whose creative energies I find irrepressible, began toying with the names of some of the characters. A medievalist friend of mine had told me that most of them were Teutonic/Scandinavian in origin, but for him they suggested only health products. Consider:
1. Galadriel Ointment ("Para sa buni, an-an, at alipunga.")
2. Boromir Cough Syrup
3. Saruman Mutlicaps ("Pamatay ng bulate" for your fighting cocks)
4. Legolas Lotion and Facial Wash ("Madulas!")
5. Aragorn Forte ("For headaches, fever, and flu")
6. Gandalf Dyeing Formula ("From gray to white!")
Would our local pharmaceuticals care to exploit their potential?
Another friend, an English major familiar with poststructuralist tenets ("the death of the author," "transgressive reinscription," etc.), read all sorts of things into the movie-things that would probably make Tolkein turn in his grave but which lend spice to a movie that long.
Much of it involves constructing a "slash" subtext; and as the film has only two female characters, slashing it is fairly easy to do. Consider the images: an all-seeing red eye, a ring that consumes its wearer, an all-male fellowship bent on destroying it with urgency. You don’t need a lot of Freud to divine what it’s really all about: the mortal fear of the pudenda. Once that premise is set, everything else follows.
If the slash in the first movie involves Frodo and Sam, the sequel pairs Legolas with Aragorn, a coupling that is less disturbing to the superego than Frodo and Sam’s because at least man and elf don’t remind one of sexually precocious children. (The hobbits, by the way, aren’t supposed to look as young as Elijah Wood and Sean Austin).
The best Aragorn-Legolas slash moments, in our opinion, are:
1. The aftermath of the battle with the orcs on the way to Helm’s Deep. Notice the expression on Legolas’ face when he thinks that Aragorn is dead and he is told to "leave the dead behind."
2. The verbal tussle between Aragorn and him and the subsequent reconciliation. (aren’t we watching an enactment of the code of the lovers’ quarrel?)
3. Their reunion. Legolas remarks how shabby Aragorn looks. He hands Aragorn the Evenstar, Arwen’s gift, as Eowyn looks on. (Is the love story really a triangle or a square dance?) If triangle it is, who sits at the apex?) My friend suggests comparing it to the Luke-Han-Leia triad in the Star Wars series.
Now, one may ask how Gimli figures in this Aragorn-Legolas affair. That query is easily answered. He’s the lady’s lap dog. "C’mon, Gimli! Here, Gimli!" calls Legolas. And the dwarf comes panting after.
Sam and Frodo have their share of slash, too. There’s that brief Harry Potter moment when they hide themselves underneath Frodo’s cloak. But more suggestive are those scenes when Frodo is overpowered by the ring. The sound is muted, and one sees Sam mouthing words. Prurient post-Freud minds don’t need much prodding to fill in the missing dialogue: obscenities, amorous confessions, etc.
A not unlikely exchange would be this:
Frodo: With this ring, I thee wed.
Sam: Mr. Frodo, I’m your Sam.
Sam, by the way, does say "I am your Sam," and that assertion, whose very simplicity challenges the overactive mind to infuse it with double meanings, brings Frodo back to his senses – away from the temptation of the Yonic. (Not a Feminist film this is.)
And now to the accidental humor in the movie:
1. There is what I call the "White Castle Whiskey" moment. Gandalf the White whistles for his horse, and regally it comes to him – immaculately white, mane streaming, bathed in light. (All this is shot in slow motion.)
2. The Ents are inspired by Macbeth ("Macbeth shall never vanquished be, until/Great Birnan Wood to High Dunsinane Hill/Shall come against him"), possibly Dante and Virgil. They have a lofty dignity worthy of their literary pedigree when first we see them, but when they invade Saruman’s stronghold, they appear more Disneyesque than Shakespearean. (Remember those walking broomsticks carrying buckets of water in Fantasia?)
3. The exorcism scene is supposed to be one of the dramatic highlights of the movie, but the rule today seems to be "The more one takes oneself seriously, the more one is prone to bathos." As Gandalf struggles with Saruman, Legolas, Aragorn, and Gimli are challenged by Wormtongue’s henchmen. Having surrendered their weapons, they have nothing but their fists. And such fists they have as to make any pugilist envious. Calmly they march straight to the throne, casually dealing a blow there, an elbow here. The bad guys fall at the touch, even those who attack from behind. (The knuckles get them.) Was Peter Jackson watching the old Batman television series? ("Pow!" "Zonk!" "Crash!")
4. The one that takes the cake, however, is what my friend calls "the Olympic torch scene." The Battle of Helm’s Deep is at its most furious. Elves, men, and orcs are dying. But here comes a lone orc, wearing no armor, bearing no arms. The horde clears a path for him. Slow motion. Everyone watches on, as he runs to the wall carrying a torch. Legolas shoots two arrows at him, but he moves on despite the pain. He cannot let the flame die. Legolas fires another arrow. He falls, the torch slips from his hand, but it lands where it should. An explosion. The wall is breached. Horrrified faces of men and elves. Cheers from the orcs ... All we need is music from Chariots of Fire.
More irreverent queries: Why does it have to rain whenever there’s a big battle scene? Why do the orcs sport a cockney accent? Doesn’t the Barlog look like a burnt house lizard? Doesn’t Saruman’s lair remind you of the Quezon Memorial? If you crossed Sam and Legolas, won’t you get Shane Filan? And isn’t Eomer Keith Duffy in a wig? Why does Sam look fatter in this movie? Wasn’t traveling by foot a good enough exercise? etc., etc.
I don’t suppose these are things Tolkein (or Peter Jackson) intended, but it doesn’t hurt to poke fun at icons every now and then. It may even be liberating. It’s certainly one way to keep things in perspective. Should one take a movie too seriously when there’s a real war about to happen? I don’t know how one can ever be irreverent about that.
But when Return of the King comes out, Ricky, you may just get another long letter from me.