บท 68: LOTR Impression
(Caedan Aegis POV)
The opening scenes flash by, a whirlwind of history compressed into mere minutes. As the last echoes of battle fade, the narrator's voice washes over us once more:
"The Ring came to the creature Gollum, who took it deep into the tunnels of the Misty Mountains."
Gollum moves with an unsettling, spider-like grace, all gangly limbs and bulbous eyes. There's something both pitiful and terrifying about him. I've seen my fair share of monsters in films, but this...
"And there, it consumed him. The Ring brought to Gollum unnatural long life. For five hundred years it poisoned his mind."
I can't help but shudder. Five hundred years... that's a long time even for an elf like me, and I'm pushing 180. The thought of spending centuries alone in the dark, corrupted by that ring, is chilling.
"And in the gloom of Gollum's cave, it waited."
The narration continues, painting a picture of creeping darkness and growing fear. I find myself holding my breath, completely engrossed. When the ring abandons Gollum, I feel an unexpected pang of sympathy for the creature.
"But something happened then the Ring did not intend. It was picked up by the most unlikely creature imaginable: a Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire."
As the character Bilbo appears on screen, I observe with interest. The actor is clearly a half-human, half-dwarf, but in the context of the film, he's called a "hobbit." It's an intriguing choice, creating this new race for the story.
"For the time will soon come when Hobbits will shape the fortunes of all..."
The narrator's words linger in the air as the opening scenes draw to a close. I settle back in my seat, my mind reeling. By the gods, what an opening!
In just a few minutes, this film has managed to create an entire world, rich with history and fraught with danger.
I'm completely invested in this story, despite knowing it's all fiction. The scene shifts to a place called the Shire, where these so-called "hobbits" live. It's a pastoral setting that feels both unfamiliar and fantastical.
As a carriage rumbles into view, carrying the character Gandalf, I find myself leaning forward again. I watch intently as Gandalf begins his conversation with another character, Frodo.
"The film is very interesting so far," the critic next to me whispers. "The opening alone, I can tell it's filmed with effort."
I nod, not taking my eyes off the screen. "Indeed," I murmur back, "but whether the film will continue to stay good throughout is the question."
"Indeed," he echoes.
As the scene unfolds, I push my critical thoughts aside. There will be time for analysis later. For now, I want to lose myself in this invented world, to experience it as purely as possible.
The scene flickered and shifted, bringing us to Bilbo's party. The fireworks display was truly mesmerizing, especially the dragon effect. It was so convincing that even the characters called "hobbits" believed it to be a real, attacking dragon.
Though as I watched, a question nagged at me: how was Bilbo using the One Ring? From what we've seen, it's an incredibly powerful artifact, capable of granting unnaturally long life. Yet the opening scenes showed how it had poisoned Gollum's mind over time.
Curiously, Bilbo didn't seem as affected. Could these "hobbits" be somehow immune to the ring's corrupting influence?
But then came the scene where Bilbo had to part with the ring. His reluctance was palpable, and any notion of immunity I had was quickly dispelled. Bilbo's eyes grew wild with a manic gleam as he hissed, "It's mine, my own, my precious," in a voice eerily reminiscent of Gollum's.
The audience around me chuckled softly at this display. I overheard snippets of conversation:
"I don't know why, but Bilbo looks pretty funny trying to imitate Gollum," one viewer commented.
Another replied, "Yeah, but maybe it's just natural for anyone who bears the One Ring?"
"Could be," a third voice chimed in. "Probably one of the side effects."
I shook my head slightly, refocusing on the film. The story progressed to Frodo learning about the One Ring from Gandalf. It was clear that even Gandalf, wise and powerful as he appeared, was tempted by the ring's allure.
This scene truly drove home the ring's power for me. If it could tempt someone who seemed as wise and formidable as Gandalf, its influence must be truly formidable indeed.
Time seemed to slip away as I found myself completely absorbed in the film. From Frodo's flight from the Shire with his companions to the chilling scene of the Nazgūl's brutal attack on the hobbits, I was utterly captivated.
Around me, I could hear the audience's reactions. An elven woman nearby whispered, her voice tinged with sympathy, "Oh, those poor hobbits."
Her companion nodded, adding thoughtfully, "They seem like simple, kind-hearted creatures. It makes their suffering all the more difficult to watch."
I found myself silently agreeing. The film had skillfully portrayed the hobbits as a good-natured race, setting them apart from the other peoples of Middle-earth. Unlike the proud elves, the sturdy dwarves, demons or the ambitious humans, the hobbits were presented as humble, peace-loving beings.
***
(Dianne James POV)
I'll admit, I came into this screening with reservations. Yes, Hellfire Studios had impressed me thoroughly with "The Demonfather," but that didn't mean I'd automatically love anything they produced.
In fact, I'd believed "The Demonfather" to be a one-off masterpiece, nearly impossible to replicate - not just for Hellfire Studios, but for any filmmaker.
Yet here I am, watching "Lord of the Rings," and it seems the ex-prince is determined to prove me and the others wrong. This film has me just as engrossed as "The Demonfather" did, perhaps even more so. I never thought I'd find myself more invested in a film so soon after "The Demonfather," but here we are.
As the minutes tick by, I remain on the edge of my seat, completely absorbed. While the final verdict is still out, I can't deny how impressed I am already. It's as if Arthur Morningstar is throwing down the gauntlet, challenging not just other filmmakers, but his own past achievements.
The scene shifted, and suddenly there he was - Aragorn, played by none other than the ex-prince himself. I couldn't help but smile a little. Arthur Morningstar taking on a major role in his own film? It felt almost like déjà vu after "The Demonfather."
But this time, something was different. The usual whispers of skepticism I'd come to expect when a director cast themselves in their own film were noticeably absent. It seemed I wasn't the only one who remembered Arthur's impressive turn in "The Demonfather." The doubts that might have plagued us before - worries about the film's quality or fears that it would become a vanity project - they just... weren't there.
And Arthur didn't disappoint. His portrayal of Aragorn was compelling from the start. There was a quiet strength in the way he pulled Frodo from his nightmare, a sense of barely contained power as he later protected the hobbit. I found myself nodding in approval.
The ex-prince had grown as an actor, that much was clear.
The film continued to impress. The wizard duel between Gandalf and Saruman was nothing short of epic, magic crackling across the screen in a display that left me breathless. Then came Frodo's injury and his arrival in Rivendell, each scene building the tension masterfully.
The Council of Elrond was a particular highlight. The way the film portrayed the bickering between the races felt genuine, the tensions palpable. When Frodo stepped forward to take on the burden of the ring, I could feel the weight of his decision.
But it was Frodo's reunion with Bilbo that truly caught me off guard. The transformation in Bilbo was startling - he'd aged visibly since giving up the ring. It was a touching moment, tinged with sadness... until it wasn't. When Bilbo's face suddenly contorted, reaching for the ring with a hunger that was terrifying in its intensity, I nearly leapt out of my seat.
Around me, I could hear gasps and muffled cries of shock. It was a masterful bit of filmmaking, catching us all off guard just when we'd let our defenses down.
บท 69: Arthur had done it again
(Dianne James POV)
The newly formed Fellowship of the Ring set off on their perilous journey. I couldn't help but notice Boromir, another half-demon, half-human like Aragorn, eyeing the One Ring with barely concealed desire. Thank the stars for Aragorn, ever vigilant in his protection of Frodo.
Their path was fraught with danger from the start. When they reached the Misty Mountains, Saruman's attack left me slack-jawed. The sheer magical might on display was staggering.
Around me, the audience buzzed with excitement and speculation:
"By the gods, such power!" gasped an elf to my left.
A dwarf stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Must be some legendary spell, that. Not your everyday magic, that's for certain."
"Forbidden magic, perhaps?" a human whispered, a mix of fear and awe in his voice.
I found myself nodding along, equally curious. What kind of magic could have such a devastating effect from miles away? Saruman was clearly a force to be reckoned with, possibly surpassing even the old elves I've known in my life.
The Fellowship's journey led them into the Mines of Moria, an ancient dwarven city that Gimli hoped to reclaim. The actor portraying Gimli delivered a heart-wrenching performance at Balin's tomb, his grief palpable.
Just as I thought I had the measure of this film, just as I believed I knew what challenges the Fellowship would face next, everything changed. They encountered a being called a "Balrog."
The collective gasp that rippled through the theater mirrored my own shock. The Balrog was a terrifying sight to behold - a massive creature of shadow and flame, with eyes that burned like the depths of hell itself. Its very presence seemed to darken the screen, radiating malevolence.
Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "How in the name of the elven gods did they manage to cast such a being?"
The critic beside me shook his head in wonder. "I've never seen anything like it in all my years."
"Could it be an illusion?" I asked, genuinely baffled.
Another critic chimed in, his voice filled with uncertainty. "It feels too real for mere illusion... but then again, this is a film. It's hard to tell."
My mind raced with possibilities. Did Hellfire Studios somehow pay an astronomical sum to feature some unknown, terrifying creature? Is this where their millions of dollars in budget went? The more I pondered, the more questions I had.
The tension in the theater was palpable as we watched the Balrog chase after the Fellowship. My heart raced when Gandalf stayed behind to confront the beast, while Aragorn held back a distraught Frodo.
A chill ran down my spine as a thought struck me. I couldn't help but flash back to Sonny's death in "The Demonfather." Surely the ex-prince wouldn't... But even as I silently pleaded for a different outcome, that telltale melancholy theme began to play. You know the one - it might as well scream, "Someone's about to bite the dust!"
Gandalf's defiant shout echoed through the theater: "You shall not pass!"
And just like that, before our disbelieving eyes, Gandalf plummeted into the abyss with the Balrog. The collective gasp from the audience was deafening.
"No!" An elderly mage a few rows ahead cried out. Surprisingly, not a single person shushed him. His outburst merely vocalized what we all felt.
As the Fellowship pressed on without their wise guide, I found myself still reeling from the loss. But the film allowed no time for mourning. Before I knew it, we were thrust into a scene where Boromir, overcome by the ring's influence, tried to take it from Frodo.
The audience's reaction was swift and harsh.
"What a piece of shit," someone hissed behind me.
Another voice chimed in, "Aragorn should've just killed him right there."
The animosity only intensified when Frodo, left with no choice, put on the ring. Boromir's subsequent regret and desperate calls did little to sway the audience's opinion.
I shook my head, listening to the whispers of hate directed at Boromir. While I understood their anger, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the character. The ring's corruption was a powerful force, after all.
But there was no time to dwell on it. The moment Frodo donned the ring, I knew trouble was coming. Sure enough, the enemy sensed his presence, and soon a horde of orcs descended upon the group.
As the battle unfolded, I found myself oddly impressed by the orcs' performances. Their commitment to their roles was unexpected, to say the least. It made me wonder about the behind-the-scenes story of their involvement.
The fight scenes were intense, each frame filled with action and emotion. Despite my years of watching and critiquing films, I found myself completely engrossed.
The battle raged on, with Frodo desperately trying to hide from the orcs. But his friends, bless their hearts, seemed determined to give away his position. Sam and Pippin kept calling out for Frodo at the top of their lungs.
A human in the row ahead of me grumbled, "Damn these hobbits, I want to smack some sense into them."
"They've been pretty useless so far," his companion agreed.
I couldn't help but chuckle at their frustration. But just when I thought Frodo was done for, the hobbits surprised us all by effectively distracting the orcs. Maybe they weren't so useless after all.
The intensity of the scenes kept building. Aragorn fought the orcs with a grace that belied the desperation of the situation. Even so, he was clearly overwhelmed by the sheer number of attackers.
Then came a twist I didn't see coming. Boromir, the character we'd all grown to despise, suddenly appeared to defend Frodo.
"Run, Frodo!" he shouted, facing down the horde of orcs.
I felt my eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Was this... redemption? I could sense the shift in the audience's mood, their hatred for Boromir softening as they watched him fight to protect Frodo.
But then the arrows started to hit Boromir, and my heart sank. Oh no. That ex-prince was at it again, sacrificing another character. I braced myself for what I knew was coming.
Boromir fought on valiantly, even as the arrows pierced him. When he finally fell to his knees, the orc leader - Lurtz, I think his name was - moved in for the kill. But Aragorn arrived just in time, engaging Lurtz in a fierce duel that ended with the orc's beheading.
As Aragorn knelt beside the fallen Boromir, the theater fell silent. We all leaned in, hanging on every word of their exchange.
Boromir, his voice weak but urgent, spoke of his fears for his home. "The White City... what will happen to my people?"
Aragorn clasped Boromir's hand, his voice steady and reassuring. "I swear to you, I will not let the White City fall, nor our people fail."
Boromir's next words hit me like a punch to the gut: "I would have followed you, my brother... my captain... my king."
I felt a lump form in my throat. It was beautifully done, I had to admit. Though I couldn't help but notice how Arthur was positioning his character as the linchpin of the story. Clever, if a bit self-aggrandizing.
"I failed you all," Boromir whispered, his last words tinged with regret.
Aragorn's response was immediate and heartfelt: "No, Boromir, you fought bravely. You have kept your honor."
As Boromir breathed his last, I found myself blinking back unexpected tears. Despite my initial skepticism, I had to hand it to Arthur - he knew how to craft a powerful, emotional scene. The ex-prince had done it again, turning a character we initially despised into someone whose death we genuinely mourned.
As the battle's aftermath unfolded, I sensed the film drawing to a close. Frodo bid a poignant farewell to his companions, setting off alone in a boat. But just as I thought we'd seen the last surprise, the camera panned to reveal Gollum's twisted figure, his eyes fixed hungrily on Frodo's retreating form.
Before I could fully process the implications, the scene shifted dramatically. Ancient trees filled the screen, their branches swaying as they communicated in an unknown, mournful language. The sudden change left me reeling, but nothing could have prepared me for what came next.
A dragon, majestic and terrifying, soared across the sky before landing with surprising grace. My eyes widened, my mind racing with questions. But before I could even begin to fathom what this meant for the story, the screen faded to black and the credits began to roll.
"Did we just experience a cliff hanger?" the critic beside me gasped, his voice a mix of disbelief and excitement.
I nodded, still processing what we'd just seen. "Seems like it," I managed to reply.
The term 'cliff hanger' originated from a popular novel series a few decades back, where the author consistently ended chapters with the protagonist in perilous situations - often literally hanging from cliffs. The term caught on, becoming shorthand for any abrupt, suspenseful ending that leaves the audience craving more.
As the implications of this ending sank in, a thought struck me. "Wait, I forget something. How did they manage to get an actor drag-" But before I could finish my question, a thunderous applause erupted around me, drowning out my words.
Swept up in the moment, I found myself on my feet, my hands coming together almost of their own accord. My unfinished question faded from my mind as I joined in the standing ovation, the energy in the theater electric.
As I clapped, I couldn't help but marvel at what I'd just witnessed. Arthur Morningstar had done it again, crafting a film that not only lived up to the hype of "The Demonfather" but in many ways surpassed it.
สถานะพลังงานรายสัปดาห์
200+ การจัดอันดับด้วยพลัง 
139 หินพลัง 
ความคิดเห็นย่อย