Hello all you loyal Counterpoint readers! An apology for my two-month hiatus is in order. I have been moving my life to a different city and a new job and finishing my year of university work, so my time has been rather hectic. Not only that, but upon re-reading my last two columns or so, I noticed that they were not only unusually heavily moral, but also borderline maudlin, so I thought some time away would strike me with fresh inspiration, and sure enough it did. So before I etch forever my reputation as the Tolkien Moralist, lend me your ears (eyes?) for a totally different sort of Counterpoint.

I recently had the pleasure of being interviewed by Andrew O’Hehir over at Salon.com. When he asked where I fell in the camp of rabid purism (i.e. those who are filled righteous anger over Peter Jackson daring to change any little iota of Tolkien's work), I was able to respond that I was keeping an open mind until I saw the movies. I almost surprised myself with how truthful that statement is, because I have been as upset as almost anybody else over the reports of Arwen's expanded role, the excising of Tom Bombadil, etc. But let's look at what cause we have to be open-minded before we set ourselves in for a long stay as rabid, bitter purists.

This column may seem rather premature, given that the movies are not out or even made yet, but I think it is fitting to consider carefully, while we still have time, how we wish to enter the theaters next year. Do we want to walk in with cut-and-dried preconceptions, or even worse, dead-set on hating anything that isn’t verbatim Tolkien, at the expense of our enjoyment of other elements of the films? Further, I think it is important to try to encourage ourselves (and yes, I include myself… as a reputed purist I need to consider my mindset most carefully!) to think over what it means to adapt a story from print to screen, how a filmmaker’s vision is justified in that task, and how authenticity can be found in the work even in light of changes that could be made to the author’s original texts.

Mr. O’Hehir’s request for a chat came at a time when many other seemingly chance observations had come together in my mind about the nature of authenticity. I was writing a paper for one of my last university classes this summer, and reading an excellent article that postulated two definitions of "authenticity:" that which is posed by ‘textual critics,’ and that used by ‘moral philosophers.’ The two definitions are not complicated and are well worth the read.

Basically summarized, a textual critic takes the position that every effort should be made to find out what the composer (or author, in this case), actually wished and intended to say or accomplish, and then abide strictly by that in all things. Musically speaking, for older composers, this is not always so easy. Even in Tolkien, there was more than one edition of The Hobbit, with significant story changes made. So a textual critic would say we need to have Tolkien’s final, cut-and-dried version, and then adhere strictly and solely to it in any artistic format that spins off the book, i.e. Jackson’s movies.

A moral philosopher, on the other hand, according to the article, takes the position that an editor should use his powers of judgement and his knowledge of the subject and author to aid him in producing his addition to the saga of the work in question. (The article was referring mainly to editors who create critical editions of composers’ works, but we can take license in our application of the concept.) Moreover, the article’s writer felt that any editor who descended to the level of being solely a textual critic was simply looking for a way to abdicate the responsibilities of his judgement so that he could produce a work which adhered, parrotlike, to the work of the original author/composer, without any need for potentially painful or dangerous decisions on his part.

I take the view that in reading, enjoying, contemplating, absorbing, and cherishing Tolkien’s work, it is right to first be a textual critic, reading the final versions as Tolkien sent them to print (changes to the storyline of Hobbit notwithstanding), and then to be a moral philosopher, using your own judgement, experiences and the filter of your own reality to incorporate the stories into your existence.

So if we accept that as a working theory of making Tolkien’s book, in a sense, our own, then why should we judge Peter Jackson for wanting the same for himself? "Because, Anwyn," I hear you saying, "He’s not just taking the stories into the closet of his mind and carefully storing them there; he’s turning them into a completely different animal and spewing them out again onto the movie screens of the universe!!" True, he is. But does that mean he has to negate his own judgement and expertise in favor of simply regurgitating our best-beloved story? Personally, I don’t think so.

In translating Tolkien to the screen, each person involved, from Jackson on down through the ranks to the swordfighting coaches has a personal commitment, a personal responsibility not only to the production but to himself and his vision. If a person vacates this responsibility and goes under strict orders from a rabid textual critic, it invalidates his personality and makes his contribution to the project not individual; that is, anybody could've done his job. You could get an army of human drones with the appropriate technical knowledge, and actors to spew out Tolkien’s lines letter by letter (and don’t think I wouldn’t be mouthing ALL the dialogue along with them! That Foxtrot a couple months back with Jason and Marcus as Frodo and Sam in Lorien, deviating from the script and just rattling off the correct dialogue because they had the books memorized? I was ALL about that!), and in the end, we would have nothing that we didn’t really have already. Think about it–sure, the action would be visual and we would hear the lines audibly, but there would be nothing there that we hardcore geeks didn’t have playing in our heads to begin with. "But Anwyn, what about the people who don’t read the books?" Under those circumstances, a verbatim, automaton movie, I say, "Make ‘em read the books!!" I’d rather have them not know the story at all than just get it from a basic, noncreative effort that showed no judgement, or equally bad, of course, from a watered-down, twisted and mangled version (anybody wanna rent an animated video???). With responsibility, a solid creative vision, and a firm grasp of storytelling, the filmmakers’ vision can enhance our beloved stories without taking anything away from us.

Have you ever considered the difference between a bad film adaptation and a good one? I’ve eagerly gone to the theaters waiting for a new adaptation of one of my favorite books. I either come away grievously disappointed, or else thinking the filmmakers did a great job. Interestingly, though, I find that the difference does not lie principally in how much the filmmakers changed or did not change from the story. Impossible? I don’t think so, at least not in my experience. Two of my favorite all-time adaptations are Shawshank Redemption and Anne of Green Gables (the Kevin Sullivan mini-series). I’ve read the books and seen the movies both, and what shines through both films is the integrity of the story. Some plotlines were changed or omitted in the interest of time or dramatic re-creation, and Kevin Sullivan in particular has a knack for combining several characters into one multi-purpose character so that he can trim bewildering, extraneous people that would be too much for a film scope. But I found that this in no way detracted from the vision, the authenticity, of the story he was telling. One of the worst adaptations I have ever had the misfortune to see was the Winona Ryder/Susan Sarandon vehicle version of Little Women. How dreary and lacking in anything approaching storytelling! Chopping dialogue in the wrong places, adding it where it made no sense, hitting viewers over the head with an outdated concept that Alcott never mentioned in her books to begin with… Help! Let me out of the theater! And yet the characters were identical, much of the dialogue was intact, and many of the events unfolded the same way. But the film still suffered through either not enough creative vision, or a lack of a plan as to how to convey the vision. I do not believe that Peter Jackson is lacking in that vision, and reports would seem to indicate he is not lacking in plan either. (An ironic side-note: The excellent Sullivan adaptation of "Anne" uses almost verbatim a bittersweet love scene from Little Women. And uses it, I might add, to much better effect than the film of Little Women did!)

Therefore I appeal to all of your creative sensibilities and respect for filmmakers: Keep an open mind! I'm as much a Tolkien purist as the next. I’m not wanting to see Arwen parading around the countryside with the Walkers, wielding a sword. That’s what we have Eowyn for!! (See, despite my prattle about open-mindedness, I would still love to force PJ to change that whole Arwen thing back to "normal!!" J ) But have you ever noticed how often purists disagree? They disagree on pronunciation.... you start to read the book pronouncing things one way, and unless you read and very quickly begin to adhere to Tolkien's pronunciation guide, pretty soon "your way" is fixed in your head. They disagree on matters of interpretation, such as Boromir's dream.... omens, magic... a multitude of other details. Do NOT ask me what I think about Balrogs’ wings!! The whole question is irrelevant and moot, as far as I’m concerned!! J I would bring to your attention one of my favorite quotations. I’ve seen it attributed to Edmund Burke, and it was used in the play 1776. It states: "A representative of the people owes them not only his industry, but also his judgement, and he betrays them if he sacrifices it to their opinion." Just remember that even if Peter Jackson were inclined to bow to the will of fans, he would not be able to do so because even the most rabid purists disagree amongst themselves constantly.

Authenticity is a matter of knowing what you think, apart from other influences. Therefore, knowing as we do that Peter Jackson has a vision that he believes is right, we should keep an open mind at least until we see the films. Just because it is not what we would do does not mean it will not have integrity that is true to Tolkien’s story. When the films have come out will be time enough to measure his authenticity against our own, but provided he has lived up to the dictates of his own heart about Tolkien's work, we will have to grant him a certain measure of authenticity, regardless of his actual "purism."