Twenty years ago, at the dawn of a new age, the true start of the twenty-first century, as the world reeled from recent monumental changes in global politics and society largely set off by 9/11, a movie opened that had been quietly in production for two years down in New Zealand. It wasn’t totally quiet, indeed there was a good deal of anticipation for it in certain sectors of the early internet -but the public at large might well have forgotten about it in lieu of everything that had been going on in that time. After all, it was just some passion project of a one-time Academy Award nominee best known for making low-budget B-grade horror films. It had lost the prestige of the Weinstein’s Miramax when it was moved to the far less successful New Line Cinema. And it was a genre piece, a fantasy movie -which were almost always huge flops with audiences and critics- based on a book that while well-regarded, was not nearly as popular as it had been two or three decades earlier. The production might have been innovative and ambitious, making three movies simultaneously over a fourteen month shoot, but who would have predicted a project like this would change cinema?
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The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring opened on December 19th, 2001, and it did. Not only was it unexpectedly well-received by audiences and critics alike, it went on to gross $880 million (becoming the fifth highest-grossing film of all time and second of that year behind some boy wizard flick); and was nominated for thirteen Academy Awards, winning four -by far the most accolades ever for any “genre” film. Its’ two follow-up films went on to comparable success and the whole trilogy quickly became recognized as a landmark of cinema. But kickstarting it was Fellowship, its’ success is what led to the pop culture capital it would soon enjoy.
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The Lord of the Rings and Fellowship in particular means a lot to me. It’s one of those seminal movie experiences that changed my life. I hadn’t seen anything like it before or since, and became pretty obsessed with its’ world, characters, and story. And among the groundbreaking effects, the grand mythology and dense world, the magic and the mystique, one of the things that stuck out most particularly to me was the masculinity. It’s a very male-dominated movie, which is of course in line with the book and is a point of fair criticism for Lord of the Rings as a whole. But it has something over a lot of other male-oriented stories, which is indeed I think part of what has endeared Lord of the Rings to folks from many gender identities: an emphasis on non-toxic masculinity and male intimacy. Watching Fellowship it certainly hit me even just how much hugging there was between its’ male characters, more than in any other movie I’d seen. What was that all about? That’s not what guys in movies are supposed to do! Hell, at one point one character, the most conventionally masculine of the whole piece, kisses another man on the forehead. The friendships between the characters are emphasized, their sense of loyalty to one another, even a kind of love. This stuff didn’t shock me as a kid, it didn’t turn my world around or anything but it was different from say the masculinity exhibited in my previous favourite series, Star Wars. And it really stuck, that tenderness, which of course extended to much of the film itself.
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Fellowship of the Ring, as its’ title suggests, is a film devoted in some way to brotherhood -to that sense of closeness and comradery among its’ band of friends on an epic quest together. It’s a particular kind of brotherhood: noble, chivalric, romantic in the classical sense. Famously, it was borne out of J.R.R. Tolkiens’ experiences during the First World War, and the attachments that grew with his fellow soldiers cooped up together for so long in those trenches, forced to travel dangerous roads and fight alongside one another -even witness some die. Certainly the Frodo/Sam dynamic is explicitly analogous to that of the officer and his batman. The evocation of these kind of loyalties and relationships, this kind of masculinity, is all through the book -and it would have been easy for Jackson to simply discard it for commercial sensibilities. But largely, he didn’t. Even with less time to devote to each interpersonal relationship, the fellowship does feel close. Constantly, they have each others’ back through their skirmishes in the Mines of Moria and at Amon Hen. And of course they are begun by swearing an oath to Frodo, to protect him and convey him to his destination. They are dedicated by the Council of Elrond, nine as a deliberate counter to the nine Nazgul in service of evil. These nine are in service of good. And that goodness is expressed unwaveringly in their virtues, their support, and the uncommon bravery that arises from it, especially in the hobbits -whose attitudes towards male relationships in their pastoral home tend more closely.
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Yet they seem the most motivated. Their friendship, their platonic love for one another is their strength. But this also stands true for both Gandalf and Aragorn, fiercely protective of the hobbits. They are the first to join the Fellowship, and the most genuine in their reasons for doing so (Legolas perhaps joins out of admiration for Aragorn, and Gimli so that an Elf doesn’t receive all the credit –it’ll take further time for their relationship to bloom). Even Boromir, the most tempted by the ring and who at one point turns against Frodo, has some honest investment in the power of their brotherhood, going out of his way to bond with Merry and Pippin, and in spite of his father and his own conflicted feelings about Aragorn’s destiny, he shares a strong kinship with his fellow son of Gondor. His weakness, that he is taken to fear, is because of how much he cares for his people –who incidentally live on the front lines of an attack by Mordor.
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And let’s talk a bit more about Boromir for a minute, one of the most compelling characters of the entire trilogy. Boromir is probably the most human character of the fellowship, the one who demonstrates a much greater slew of relatable human faults: arrogance, pride, anger, fear leading to rash action. He’s set up from the Council of Elrond to be a figure at odds with the rest, from the point he entertains the option to use the ring as a weapon, an extremely human impulse, and all around him reject the idea. He’s also huffy at the notion of Aragorn assuming the throne of Gondor. Seeing the film for the first time as a kid, these traits spelt him out from the start as, if not a bad guy, a figure not to be trusted. He dangerously admired the ring when Frodo dropped it in the mountains, and sure enough eventually tried to force it from him. These actions identified him to me and many others on first viewing, as a minor villain of the film -in a way similar I imagine to how Lando Calrissean was received initially by viewers of The Empire Strikes Back. But this movie actually does a much better job ingratiating Boromir than that one did with Lando. Because it makes clear that for all his faults, Boromir is coming from a place of virtue. He feels the weight of their task perhaps more potently than anyone save Frodo and Gandalf for those reasons stated, and it’s what motivates his bad judgement calls.
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He’s a truly complex figure, carrying so much responsibility that is delved into greater posthumously in subsequent movies. Let it not be forgotten his first scene is of him admiring the shards of Narsil, an emblem of a monarchy he on principle doesn’t support, and yet he can’t help himself. This extends to Aragorn too, who he sees as a fellow prince of Gondor sometimes, an interloper others. And in one of my favourite moments, Boromir is the one who pleads with Aragorn not to rush on after the death of Gandalf when everyone is mourning. “Give them a moment, for pity’s sake” he says. His recognition of the emotional trauma of the hobbits and their need to grieve endears him beautifully as someone with a great deal of empathy -this is before his conversation with Aragorn lamenting the frailty of his people. There’s a lot of good intentions in him, a lot of nobility that is in conflict with the tempting power of the ring -and he succumbs to it. But he also redeems himself. Mere moments after his attack on Frodo, he’s desperately apologizing -and then he sacrifices himself in an effort to save Merry and Pippin in one of the most emotional movie deaths I’ve ever seen. He dies heroic and in his last moments reconciles with Aragorn, whom he finally regards as brethren.
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Boromir is one of the films’ models of the male hero archetype. He may be a supporting character, but he’s drawn from the classical mould of the handsome, just, charismatic, and prototypically masculine knight or prince on a noble quest -certainly more than his counterpart Aragorn, too wild and rugged and humble for the traditional hero. Boromir is more the kind of character Tolkien found in all his research into folklore and heroic mythology. But look at how he is treated by the story: his flaws take centre stage. He is fearful, insecure, he makes mistakes. Rather than valiantly fight for his kingdom’s interests, use a powerful new weapon to defeat his foe, he joins up with a ragtag bands’ quest in seeming abandonment of his duties. In this capacity he willingly becomes part of a collective, forsaking the glory of individual heroism and only in dying does he conform to some semblance of the ideal. He is a subversion, conscious or not, but in that, he is allowed to grow and be challenged and even overcome some of those old impulses. Boromir is a vital member of the fellowship and represents how the hero can be adapted.
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If Boromir though is a classical male hero rewritten, Aragorn is a touch more contemporary. He is the movie-era action hero and romantic lead: the strong-willed fighter, typically handsome with that fair degree of scruff, one of the few characters in the series with an established love interest, and a backstory that makes him out to be a rebel. He’s got one hell of a great entrance, shrouded in mystery, with only his word for the hobbits to trust that he is indeed an ally. He’s very cool in a way that’s immediately recognizable in our pop culture. But throughout the movie there are these subtleties in his character, a tenderness most notably, that probably rears its’ head first when he sings the ballad of Beren and Luthien while the hobbits sleep. Of course it’s all over his relationship with Arwen, an inherently sensitive, graceful, tragic romance; and in his earnestness throughout the journey of the fellowship, culminating in his letting Frodo go at Amon Hen, which he does with pathos and regret. Because he cares about these people he has pledged himself to. Aragorn is a model of gritty masculinity, a very potent modern hero type, and yet he’s characterized with deep and abiding compassion, even for someone he’s had quarrels with on their journey.
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But of course we must talk about the main hero of this story, Frodo (I’ve said before that Sam is the hero of the trilogy and I maintain that, but for the purposes of this one film and how it is presented, Frodo is the central character and thus more important to this discussion). Frodo is about as far away as you can get from a conventional male hero archetype. He hasn’t the archetypal masculinity of either an Aragorn or Boromir, he’s doe-eyed, inauspicious-looking, and most importantly, small. His behaviour is likewise divergent. He’s not particularly sharp or capable in a fight, he’s not brooding or romantic or sly or even typically charismatic. He’s courageous, but not in a way that he keeps his fears hidden -every time he volunteers for a harrowing task, he’s clearly terrified. But that is part of what makes him special. Frodo takes on the role of the hero without embodying any of its’ natural precepts -the marketing even sold him as “the most unlikely person imaginable”.
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Frodo is a hobbit, he has no natural inclination or desire towards heroism, but he’s got an innate moral compass and the noble heart necessary to perform this task. It’s a whole thing with Tolkien and his ideals of heroes coming from anywhere, even unsuspecting contented agrarian folk -and in imbuing them with personalities contrary to classic modes. Frodo is scared through much of his journey, he is badly hurt a few times in this film alone -explicitly not indestructible. Frodo hardly participates in combat, and he’s not very good when he does. And he cries, he can show vulnerability -in fact it’s vital he does so. It epitomizes that deep contrast in what he is assigned to do and who he is. In all of these things though, Frodo is not judged, never once is he seen to be inadequate. On the contrary these sides to him have value and they challenge the very notions of what heroism can be. Jackson and Elijah Wood convey that so perfectly, as interested in reckoning with that definition of a movie hero as Tolkien was with classical ones. The result stands in stark contrast to a lot of cinema. Even twenty years later, it’s rare to see Frodos as movie heroes, as standard archetypes continue to dominate.
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It’s rare to see movie heroes hug close friends the way Frodo hugs Sam at the end. At least not without an obligatory “no homo” assurance to follow. And yes, when it comes to Frodo and Sam there is a degree of homosexual subtext inherited from the book and which Jackson, Fran Walsh, Philippa Boyens, even Elijah Wood and Sean Astin had to be aware of making these movies from 1999 to 2000. There’s a tangible love between them that is established fairly early on and which must extend beyond the mere brotherly love shared between Pippin and Merry or the paternal love of Gandalf to Frodo and Bilbo. The mission statement “Don’t you lose him Samwise Gamgee” is repeated, how can his chasing after Frodo at the end not be construed as at least somewhat romantic? The manner in which it’s composed, the beautiful music by Howard Shore underlining it, choices to emphasize Frodo clasping Sam’s hand or each of their teary faces as they embrace -the last line of the movie is Frodo sentimentally saying “Sam, I’m glad you’re with me.” And to render all of this sincere in the time The Fellowship of the Ring came out in is extremely bold and effectively wonderful. It’s a moving relationship, it always has been.
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Likewise moving is that aforementioned forehead kiss, and the final moments between Aragorn and Boromir. It recalls a similarly tender scene from the World War I movie Wings, which I expect might have been a reference point for Jackson. There is no romance subtext between these two (in spite of what some shippers might prefer), but it’s framed as okay that they have a moment this close. There’s no toxicity here, men are allowed bonds like these without it being a statement on their sexuality. The new fellowship forged between Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli has the marks of this too. Fellowship is a strength. Sensitivity and intimacy are strengths, even pity is a virtue. Men being vulnerable with each other, being open and honest, true to their emotions and authentic natures -it feels comforting. As Zev Chavet put it in an article for Polygon earlier this year: “To truly be a hero — to be a man, the movie says — you cannot bear your burdens in the poisonous cloud of solitude. That’s how the Ring seizes you. You must be brave enough to share your doubts, to hold each other close, to see and be seen in turn.” The fellowship is a support structure, and one that I always wanted.
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And it only stands to show where the opposite is aligned. The one toxic male relationship we see in the film, motivated by manipulation and secrecy, is that of Saruman towards Gandalf. These are old friends who have gone down very different paths that no longer meet. Saruman uses Gandalf’s trust of him to his advantage. But Gandalf escapes through the relationships he’s built. Saruman has no friends in his dark tower. And his minions as extensions of himself with those same driving values, cannot ever defeat the fellowship, who in their unity can conquer even the greatest of odds. Even the Nazgul, though bound together like the fellowship is, are driven only by greed and hate and the draw of power. Fitting then, that it’s an avatar of love, and a woman, who thwarts them.
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Love is the key. It’s one of the big things I’ve always taken away from these movies, and found refreshing from the start, how they define that love in the re-shaping of archetypes and breaking down of barriers. A hero doesn’t have to be fearless leader or mystery man, classical stud or lowly underdog -he can be more nuanced than that. Male relationships don’t have to be unattached, defensive, macho -they can be tender and intimate while still being platonic if so preferred. Men can be brothers and not simply bros. That ending to Fellowship of the Ring I think drove that message home for me more than any other moment in the trilogy: the twins of Boromir’s heartbreaking death and Sam and Frodo’s heartwarming embrace. I looked for that in other movies after and didn’t find it.
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Fellowship of the Ring is maybe my favourite of the Lord of the Rings films by a tight margin. A part of that probably comes down to my experiencing it first, and everything so brilliant and breathtaking and revelatory of the trilogy began there. Obviously, the following two films would continue to subvert themes of masculinity and male relationships, Frodo and Sam’s would only become more intimate, and notions of heroism and brotherhood. But Fellowship blew those doors open, as it did so many others. And though I will have more to say on The Two Towers and The Return of the King in coming years, this was really the individual film that changed everything, paving the way for the achievements and furthering of such themes in those two. Fellowship of the Ring inspired and influenced me in so many ways -it continues to do so- and twenty years later, it only feels more daring. I believe it’s a movie that made me a better man than I could have been, teaching me more as I matured. And with all the essays and think-pieces I see about it discussing like topics, I know I’m not alone.
At the end of the film, the fellowship has broken, it has been scattered, split onto separate paths. A despondent Gimli laments their apparent failure, but Aragorn responds that they haven’t failed so long as they hold true to each other. It’s I think, the understated key message to the movie. May we all hold true to our bonds, make the best of the time that is given to us, and wield love as a strength. Tolkien and Jackson believed that was enough to defeat evil, and I have to believe that they’re right.
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