Are the Lord of the Rings Movies Good?

'Egads! Thou speakest of sirs and gentlemanly niceties., but is it not commonly known that thou residest in a barrel so encrusted with filth and sloshed port that the smell is known to drive even the strongest man into fits of the humors and the palsy?

In truth, methinks the smell of clean-living, such as that which surrounds mine own person, is as foreign and noxious to thy nostrils as garments be to the dusky tribes of Afric! No mystery then that thou mistakest my just and rightful inquiries as base speech and empty ribaldry, for truthfully is it said that a blind man makes for a poor judge of the sun's brilliance.

Curse thee, thou tree-infested loonface! My noble words and cause, alas, cannot methinks mask the natural rugged scent of the Highlands and my barrel's foulest contents. Nor the aroma of Eru upon earth, bottled and sanctified in the Holy Buckie.
But lo, my poor home may yet have its cantankerous exhalinses somewhat offset, if only a fair maiden, with a temper as terrible and awesome to beyond as a Highland storm in full angry vengeance roaring amidst a sun rising over a darkened and troubled land, and with hair as fiery as is befitting to match her surest temperament, were to give it a right old fashioned scrubbing.
But alack, I must not think on such matters, for they make me crabbit.
I must turn to the subject that most nobly lays at hand, you Sir can not so hastily lay a ladies beef aside as if it were a trinket from the end of a jesters codpiece! It cannot pass no matter what offense thy nostrils may encounter!

Forest Shepherd wrote:

Mrs Figg wrote:

Forest Shepherd wrote:Fie Figgs! Thou comest perilous close in thy manner to those senseless swabbers of pig's fat that daily assault mine ears with their perfidy!

verily I say unto thee! thou doth taketh the Michael! forsooth.

Now answerest in plain and honest speech, as thou was wont to do: Shakespeare the greater wordsmith is, for Tolkien buildeth towers upon those mortared stones his forebears shaped of old. What maketh thee in answer? Speak fair, but true, for mine eyes strain not yet to see in a darkened woods, and many are the beasts that would do mischief to the blind.

Hast thou partaken from the poisoned buckie chalice?, art thou raving as a man bereft of his wits? did thy wetnurse drop thee whilst in her cups? whilst the bloody Shakespeare does chase my hart eager to slay, noble Tolkien shaketh the mighty spear but fain would he slay mine heart being not fell wordsmith but Eru's rose gardener.

Thou speakest right truthfully of thy Northern state, wherein much vile mischief is done in the name of "high spirits." In this honesty, I may find thee apt to my needs. For never didst I intend to muddy this... this beslubbering clack-dish with taunts of such-and-such a beef. And wherein that beef may be your beef, and yet thine only beef, nothing else need stand between our persons, certainly not of beef.

(In truth, I know not what a Lady's beef might be, for when the urchin sets forth jest of man's meat, 'tis the proud inhabitant of the codpiece of which the artless fellow speakest. I did but speak to the thickness of her mind, which seemeth, like a gasping fish dry-docked and floppy, to check her voice for want of the right words... And sure, it was the same Figgy Lady that did first speak of ham...)

But nay, enough beating of the wordy bracken. The fox of my argument, which thy mind shall bite upon and hold like the most faithful hound that e'er put nose to ground, is but this: if I spoke an outrage of my lady's beef (whate'er that may be) 'twas not knowingly done, but done only as a man unknowing of his neighbour's mournful state shall give offense through offering a smiling face upon passing, or some other such spur.

Let us therefore not make a gentle bull into a lechery and, in stead, offer like countenance upon this matter, and make burial of the cross-eyed cat that doth give offense between us. The bull alone that concerneth my mind is that which waiteth in the court of my Good Lady Hasty-witted. It is she that must answer the coxcomb's call, not I or thee.

Postscriptum:
Alas, the flighty wench hath answered with words rash and billowy ere I could offer this wise and measured epistle. Toward the tyrant Petty are my thoughts directed. Any fool else who readeth of my words be cautioned to hold thy tongue lest thou trundle thyself deeper into the manure-pile of thy ignorance.

As for Lady Disdain, she shall have her answer. Anon.

twas ever thus

Mrs Figg wrote:

Forest Shepherd wrote:
Now answerest in plain and honest speech, as thou was wont to do: Shakespeare the greater wordsmith is, for Tolkien buildeth towers upon those mortared stones his forebears shaped of old. What maketh thee in answer? Speak fair, but true, for mine eyes strain not yet to see in a darkened woods, and many are the beasts that would do mischief to the blind.

Hast thou partaken from the poisoned buckie chalice?, art thou raving as a man bereft of his wits? did thy wetnurse drop thee whilst in her cups? whilst the bloody Shakespeare does chase my hart eager to slay, noble Tolkien shaketh the mighty spear but fain would he slay mine heart being not fell wordsmith but Eru's rose gardener.

La, therein is my answer. Tolkien but a painted actor is, in one hand clutched a wooden sword, in the other a clod-rake. While he may, from time to time, utter forth lines that approach to genius, he is more lyrebird than poet, and canst but dream of the giddy heights from which the Bard doth with twinkling eye and upturned mouth observe those that toil below.

nothing else need stand between our persons, certainly not of beef.- Forest

Verily Sir Forest I must with haste then withdraw my charges, for it appeareth that you hold nothing about you against a ladies beef.
And in coming to the understanding that such a proffered apology was required  I too happened upon the understanding that it followed, as day the night, or hawk the hare that it was by my troth your round.
Whereupon we may partake of the blessed nectar of Buckie and between wit, jest and uproarious behaviour- yet contained within the confines of gentlemanly indulgence by the quality of the personages, whereupon, ignited with the bravery born of the buckie, we may disparage the wmoen folk and bemoan and bewail their lack of barrel scrubbing which, I fear to tell in all confidence, has left me to the device of having to scrub my own barrel, from which it is does not come off well and grows stale and mouldy as it were the inside of an old mans codpiece.

fie Forest sirrah! wouldst thou pluck gaudy weeds from mildewed coffer, or wouldst thou prance naked as a babe in yonder flowered sward.

It does my heart good to hear thee speak so, good Petty! But I would not wish to disclude any pure of heart and mind. There dwells no shame in the sharing of that heady brew for which thy northern brethren do daily toil, and, in truth, I find my thoughts turn dark with regret at the hasty appellates I so freely bestowed upon our good friend and frothy eel-ringer Lady Figg.

Let us therefore offer forth a cup of port or buckie fine in gracious thanks of her continued tolerance of our grosser appetites and manners, for well is it said that a baboon may howl at the lion, but it is the Nile water-beast that roareth the loudest.

Blimey ! Talk about going round the moon to meet the sun ! You all happy now ?

My distemper hath melted away as a snowfall in May.

Are the Lord of the Rings movies good?



Uh, not really.

Well that was stupid ! What they did to Denethor was stupid ! A 2mile run in his flame retardant long johns !

Oh shush you lot.

I just popped my ROTK EE DVD in to see if PJ gave some sort of explanation for that scene, and all he says is "I just liked the image of him plummeting from the top of the city." And apparently it was something that he had in his mind since the beginning of production.

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I am sure I either read or he said somewhere that the reason he did that was it 'looked cool'.

Which as soon as that is voiced as a reason for anything it should set off warning bells.

bungobaggins wrote: And apparently it was something that he had in his mind since the beginning of production.

He likes the images of falling and fire. You see them coming back again and again and again. So how could he resist.

On the other hand, I seem to remember he said the same thing about having the eagle rescue image being in his mind from the very beginning too, and I've always really liked that scene.

PJ did admit it was physiologically impossible, but I don't fault him for going for a cool image so much as I fault him for not creating a Denethor that in the end did succeed in purposefully taking his own life.

That kind of sums up Pj's approach- he wants to pay lip service to Tolkien and his fans but do is own thing. So instead of either doing Tolkiens version and not having Denethor run half a mile on fire to jump off the top of the Courtyard, or doing his own version and moving the burning of Faramir to the Courtyard where he could have his cool image and it still make some sense, he instead does neither- we get Tolkiens Hallows and we get PJ's suicide run on fire- but by trying to do both the end result is just ridiculous and further turns the character of Denethor into some sort cartoon.

Maybe PJ is a frustrated pyromaniac? Explains a lot. Afterall, he has burned all that Tolkien held dear to the ground.

There was one interview of PJ on Guy Fawkes day, where he was basically trying to one-up who ever else was shooting off fireworks around the bay his house overlooks. So yeah, he's a pyro.

Why wasn't PJ locked up earlier? It's clearly too late now!

I really like Denethors firey plunge, it echoed Gandalfs firey plunge, only Denethor was toast.

Gandalf was toast too, but they scraped off all the burnt until he was White again.

(I just had a good laugh, reading through the Shakespearian disagreement earlier in this thread between Petty, Figgs and myself. I think I enjoyed it much more than I should have, haha.)