Skip to main content

Notes on the Title Cards of The Lord of the Rings


It might be sacrilege for one who both considers The Lord of the Rings trilogy to be one of the greatest triumphs of cinema and has been an avid lover of the films since adolescence, to declare that the original theatrical cuts of the films are better than the much beloved extended editions. Easily it’s my most controversial opinion regarding these movies. Don’t get me wrong, I do like the extended editions quite a lot, especially as someone who just enjoys spending time in that universe. They flesh it out more, add extra flavour, and in increasing the length by about an hour really emphasize the epic quality of these films. But I find that the original cuts are generally more cleanly paced, more seamlessly edited, and much more accessible to audiences. All the stuff there is to love about The Lord of the Rings is there in the original versions, the plethora of new and extended scenes merely add to that for fans. And of those, they fall into three camps for me:
1. The handful of scenes that are genuinely great (to the degree I legitimately would have liked to see them in the original versions -yes including the Voice of Saruman and the Mouth of Sauron).
2. The scenes that I really appreciate and like despite understanding they aren’t strictly necessary for the action or characters (this encompasses most of the extended bits).
3. The scenes that were clearly deleted for a reason (awkward humour, pointless digressions, and the like) and don’t wholly coalesce within the film proper.
But I don’t want to talk about any of that stuff. There’s one thing in particular that catches me up every time I watch the extended editions (at least for two of them), and that is the way the title card is presented.
It sounds like the smallest of things and it is. The placement of the title card really has no bearing whatsoever on the overall quality of the film. But it always sticks out to me the difference in where they are in the extended editions compared to the theatrical versions. To be clear I’m referring to the subtitle cards of course (“The Lord of the Rings” always precedes everything else), and yeah, technically they are in pretty much the same place in the runtime from one version to the next for structural reasons. Ultimately the reason for the difference in the extended cuts is merely owing to the re-insertion of chronological cut scenes. But even something as insignificant as a title reveal can have great meaning, and the original versions present that meaning better.
Let’s look at The Fellowship of the Ring. That title card follows the expository prologue by Galadriel, ending on the note of Bilbo finding the ring in Gollum’s cave. Emphasizing the humility of hobbits in general, she says “there will come a time when hobbits will shape the fortunes of all.” Fade to black, and a fade in on a lush patch of trees and a slow pan around to reveal Frodo sitting at the base of one reading a book, the title appearing as the camera does this. 
Now in the extended version, the mountains Galadriel is speaking over become the mountains on Bilbo’s map, the camera panning over it before resting on the Shire as Bilbo takes over speaking by explaining the exact geographical location and time. Eventually the camera pans out from the map revealing Bilbo’s sitting room, and then over to his study, with the title coming up there as it stops on his back to the camera at his desk poring over his book. His first lines after the title fades off screen are “There and Back Again”. It’s a moment that is cluttered, both visually and in dialogue, following up Galadriel’s prescient statement with unneeded information. Showing off the map, followed by Bag End and Bilbo, and his first lines being in reference to a previous adventure emphasizes the past, his past, and him. Your eye is drawn to the relics as the title card appears associating the title, and by extent the film to come, with Bilbo and his unseen exploits. Nor is there any clear visual connection to Galadriel’s powerful last words.
But in the theatrical cut, there is. Galadriel’s line is imminently followed by revealing the hobbit who will “shape the fortunes of all”: Frodo, in as exactly a humble repose as would be expected by “the most unlikely creature imaginable”. The contrast between the imposing mountains seconds ago and the graceful Shire glen communicates the nature and attitude of the hobbits’ world much better than the interior of Bag End does against a larger and more dangerous environment that our hobbit heroes will have to step into. Both versions want to emphasize a link to literature, whether it be a character reading or writing. And I feel showing Frodo reading is better than showing Bilbo writing. Bilbo is transcribing an old story, Frodo is absorbing a new one. And it’s against that image that the title appears, connecting the story to come with the young, inexperienced protagonist, his open and vibrant world, and an idea of newness rather than the old. It’s also just a nicer image, the title standing out more against the backdrop of green. There is no dialogue for a few beats, until we hear the distant sounds of Gandalf singing. And the first cut after the title disappears is to Frodo’s excitement at what he hears, subconsciously informing the audience to be excited along with him.
And now let’s turn to The Two Towers, where the title comes in shorter order after a flashback to Gandalf’s apparent death in Moria, revealing the further extent of his fight with the Balrog. It cuts directly to Frodo being shocked awake by a dream and Sam checking on him,re-establishing the two characters. The title then comes after the next cut following the camera rising over the gray, rocky landscape of Emyn Muil, and Frodo and Sam climbing into frame. 
In the extended edition, it’s not complicated; it’s merely an establishing shot of Emyn Muil from a more head-on angle and is easily the most boring title reveal of them all. No characters or discernible locations are in the frame, and it kind of reminds me of a danker looking Last of the Mohicans title card. Not much is communicated except for a somewhat dreary looking environment, a disconnect from the cold open, and in the first sign of life after it fades being on Sam and Frodo in long shot scaling down a cliff, a distinct distance between the characters and the audience, suggesting objectivity to their quest and to the film. And in these title card moments the movement of the camera does make a difference. Here it just pans across the setting, compared to the more dynamic, purposeful movement of the camera in the counterpart moments of both versions of Fellowship.
Yet in the theatrical cut, it rises up, the title ascending with it as more background is revealed in tandem with our characters. Here it reasserts their significance within the movies’ world as they move both into frame and closer to the camera, the palpable roughness of the area and their arduous climb signifying the struggle they and their friends will be put through in the story ahead. The colour scheme is pale, washed-out, and dirty compared to the clean rocks glimpsed in the extended equivalent -a better representation of the grayness and the tempestuousness of the film ahead -there won’t be any serene interludes with the elves for our heroes in this stage of their journey. While the first post-title line in the extended edition is a bit of fake-stakes desperation as Sam urgently yells to Frodo to catch a box he dropped (containing mere Shire seasoning), in the theatrical cut, it’s Sam refreshing our memory of the destination: “Mordor. The one place in Middle-Earth we don’t want to see any closer; it’s the one place we are trying to get to.” -followed by evoking Gandalf, threading the moment to the pre-title flashback.
The only installment that doesn’t differentiate its’ title card is The Return of the King, having no extended scene to fit into that point in the run-time. It’s also just the perfect title card drop, following on the origin story of Gollum and the necessary check-in on Frodo and Sam to introduce the films’ melancholy “return journey” motif. The title could have been put ahead of this scene, in following the pattern of the previous two films in introducing it after a major exposition sequence. But there’s an innate sadness to that first scene with Frodo and Sam, and “The Return of the King” is an intensely triumphant title -so it was moved ahead a moment. A line of characters on horseback are travelling through a dark forest, with in turn close-ups on Legolas, Aragorn, and finally Gandalf, before cutting to a wide shot, the white wizard clear beneath the growth of trees, that rises up and left through the green as the title appears in unison with Howard Shore’s soft yet tremulous notes to reveal the washed-out Isengard. The title comes with that breath of victory in the vicinity of a recently defeated foe, crisp against the perfect green of the forest boughs. It further completes the evolution of the previous two sequences. Where Fellowship circled around to our mild-mannered hero and Two Towers slowly arose to epitomize the harshness of his quest, Return of the King ascends high through the trees and sky in reference to the outcome of the enterprise being much bigger than any of the individual characters. A further shot than any of the previous title cards, it symbolizes both the grandiosity of this film even next to the others, and of Aragorns’ literal rise to the throne of Gondor. And it acts as a buffer against the trials to come. Consider the mystique and eeriness of the forest we see at ground level, full of knotted trees, decaying branches, and fog, that on the outside reveals itself to be quite full and healthy and attractive -assuring the audience in its blossoming imagery (and in the score) that no matter what darkness comes into play, the good guys will win in the end. It’s a magnificent title drop, one that succeeds in exciting me every time I watch it.
So… now what? The title cards of the theatrical versions of The Lord of the Rings are better than they are in the extended cuts and these are the reasons why. Am I reading a bit much into what amounts to across all five variations no more than a few minutes of screen-time? Probably, yes. Did Peter Jackson consciously imbue this much meaning into his placement of the title cards? Probably not. That doesn’t mean it isn’t there. If anything, all of this dissection is a testament to how much can be gleaned from even a small creative choice in such an enormous masterpiece as The Lord of the Rings trilogy.
And it’s just something to think about, a good place to start when looking at how cinematic language functions in the art of storytelling and communicating ideas. Once again, I do like the extended editions of The Lord of the Rings, this has just been something on my mind since I’ve been revisiting them in their COVID-19 re-releases. Whichever version you prefer is absolutely fine; either way you’re watching one of the best movies ever made. And I think we can all at least agree that each of these title cards is better than the ones they came up with for The Hobbit movies.

Support me on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/JordanBosch
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/Jordan_D_Bosch

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Disney's Mulan, Cultural Appropriation, and Exploitation

I’m late on this one I know. I wasn’t willing to spend thirty bucks back in September for a movie experience I knew was going to be far poorer than if I had paid half that at a theatre. So I waited for it to hit streaming for free to give it a shot. In the meantime I heard that it wasn’t very good, but I remained determined not to skip it entirely, partly out of sympathy for director Niki Caro and partly out of morbid curiosity. Disney’s live-action Mulan  I was actually mildly looking forward to early in the year in spite of my well-documented distaste for this series of creative dead zones by the most powerful media conglomerate on earth. Mulan  was never one of Disney’s classics, a movie extremely of its time in its “girl power” gender politics and with a decidedly American take on ancient Chinese mythology. It got by on a couple good songs and a strong lead, but it was a movie that could be improved upon, and this new version looked like it had the potential to do that, emphasizing

The Hays Code was Bad, Sex in Movies is Good

Don't Look Now (1973) Will Hays, Who Knows About Sex In 1930, former Republican politician and chair of the Motion Picture Association of America Will Hayes introduced a series of self-censorship guidelines for the movie industry in response to a mixture of celebrity scandals and lobbying from the Catholic Church against various ‘immoralities’ creating a perception of Hollywood as corrupt and indecent. The Hays Code, or the Motion Picture Production Code, was formally adopted in 1930, though not stringently enforced until 1934 under the auspices of Joseph Breen. It laid out a careful list of what was and wasn’t acceptable for a film expecting major distribution. It stipulated rules against profanity, the depiction of miscegenation, and offensive portrayals of the clergy, but a lot of it was based around sexual content: “sexual perversion” of any kind was disallowed, as were any opaquely textual or visual allusions to reproduction, and right near the top “No licentious or suggestiv

Pixar Sundays: The Incredibles (2004)

          Brad Bird was already a master by the time he came to Pixar. Not only did he hone his craft as an early director on The Simpsons , but he directed a little animated film for Warner Bros. in 1999, that though not a box office success was loved by critics and quickly grew a cult following. The Iron Giant is now among many people’s favourite animated movies. Likewise, Bird’s feature debut at Pixar, The Incredibles , his own variation of a superhero movie, is often considered one of the studio’s best. And for very good reason, as the most talented director at Pixar shows.            Superheroes were once the world’s greatest crime-fighting force until several lawsuits for collateral damage (and in the case of Mr. Incredible, a hilarious suicide prevention), outlawed their vigilantism. Fifteen years later Mr. Incredible, now living as Bob Parr, has a family with his wife Helen, the former Elastigirl. But Bob, in a combination of mid-life crisis and nostalgia for the old day