Though I have not seen Samuel L. Jackson’s second film to be adapted from Enid Blyton’s bestseller, I did once hear a radio play of the same name, starring Richard Briars as the Ring. From this I can accurately surmise the contents of the 2003 motion picture.
We open on a sorry note, with the protagonist leprechauns split up and scattered like semen after a particularly careless wank. Furthermore Santa is dead, his magic charms unable to save him from falling down a really big hole. Oh, and one of the humanoids gone done all dead an’ all, all arrowed to bits he was. Still, at least he had an honourable death – or as honourable as death can be when you are shuffled off this mortal coil by a man dressed as an ork.
It is with heavy heart, therefore, that Freddy Ballbags must carry on with his quest to return some substandard jewellery to the Argos Extra store several towns over.
Saddled by totally unfounded accusations of having produced a lumpen work of protracted tedium with the predecessor to this film, Jackson has taken the necessary steps to jazz up The Two Towers. In order to up the pace and jolly along the action the director has inserted a cast of slow-talking, slow-moving trees. It is a move that would baffle even the smallest, thickest child. Meanwhile, as the trees are lumbering about achieving fuck all – as is a tree’s wont – the pixie, the gnome and the non-dead humanoid make a detour into a lacklustre faux Shakespearean play. It’s all betrayals, poisoned minds and birds wanting to fight alongside the menfolk.
Needless to say, before long they are all bored to tears of the incoherent dawdling melodrama transpiring in this medieval castle and so some of the faces about the place fix up a good old fashioned ruck with a firm from the next town over.
It’s a day out for the lads and everyone gets to feel the rush once more, just like the glory days. What’s more, Santa shows up alive and well. It seems he’s not dead after all and he makes out like he always meant to fall down that big hole. He is eyed with all the suspicion due to a man telling fibs and wearing a white a dress. “Fuck off granddad, or I’ll tell the king you touched me” cusses the gnome, unreasonably.
“It’s not my fault!” wails Father Chrimbo, aka Merlin, “It’s the other bad santa. I think he’s on a register or something…”
The people of Middle Earth are a principled folk and though they will allow crude fiery metaphors for Satan to pervade the place and trees to be granted lengthy soliloquies, they wont stand idle whilst an old man in the neighbourhood faces tenuous accusations of paedophilia. A lynch mob is gathered, a minibus hired and we’re all off to Isengard for a good old fashioned tar and feathering.
But when our intrepid band of heroes arrive they discover a burst water pipe has flooded the gaff putting the kibosh on their plans. Over in the larder, two of the tousle-haired leprechauns are getting stuck into the ale and honking on their ‘special’ pipe-leaves. It is a scene so familiar it makes this critic homesick for his native Liverpool and thus unable to complete the review.
To wit, I give this film two towers.
Tags: Argos Extra, bilbo baggins, fantasy, frodo baggins, Gandalf, hobbits, JRR Tolkein, lord of the rings, Merlin, orcs, Richard Briars, RIngs of Power, Samuel L. Jackson, Santa, The Two Towers, tolkien