We're going to dive right in, so if you haven't read my review of An Unexpected Journey (2012), I recommend that you do. This review is for the theatrical release of The Desolation of Smaug; if the extended edition improves my opinion, as I truly think it may, I will add to this post accordingly. Also, I'll say here that I love the movie, and am so thankful that Peter Jackson has continued his venture into Middle-earth. That said, let's dig a little deeper.
Starting with the positives: The acting in this film is just about as solid as the previous one. But what really works here is that we don't have to slog through introductions and basic character development, because we already know these guys (sorry, but there's only one woman here). Martin Freeman and Richard Armitage take off on a dramatic marathon from the opening scene, and don't let up until about five seconds after the final blackout (if you're not holding your breath when Bilbo delivers his last line, you're doing it wrong). Each proves to be heavyweight champions of the film because they allow for greater gravitas and desperation, far more than their lighter-hearted performances in Journey. The other dwarves don't matter as much; their sparkling individuality from the first film is glossed over into a largely ambiguous chorus. I don't think it's a bad change, either; their performances are all decent (even those who don't speak in this one), and with the introduction of new characters, time simply could not be spared. Ian McKellan is of course in splendid form as Gandalf, but his role is unfortunately clipped and laden with superfluity and spectacle; more on that later.
Now for the newcomers, all of whom are exciting and welcome additions to the franchise. Luke Evans steals the show as Bard (the Bargeman, not Bowman? Okay, P Jackson, I see you), the rugged and dangerous man who reminds us perhaps a bit too much of Aragorn. Evans skillfully navigates the waters of rebellious indignation while maintaining his role as sympathetic father, and promises great things for his forthcoming redemption. Similarly outstanding is the ethereal Lee Pace as Thranduil, the Elf-King, whose movement and voice work is chillingly elegant, and whose anger boils under an icy surface with palpable heat. Orlando Bloom happily returns as a more dangerous Legolas, though his fraught love life seems both contrived and disjointed (obviously not Bloom's fault). Evangline Lilly plays his love interest, the Elf Tauriel, in a very welcome if unfortunately tacky female presence. And, finally, Benedict Cumberbatch beautifully voices the titular diabolic dragon with such beauty and power that the voice could be vibrating up from the earth itself.
Besides the acting, two elements of the film work exceptionally well. First is the typically beautiful score by Howard Shore. Second is the breathtaking Lake Town. The inspired design and architecture, overlaid with a fresh color scheme and stunning set decoration, steals the entire film. Watery and cold, sturdy and rustic, the set provides atmosphere out the wazoo and gives a sharp and gritty edge to the middle episode of this Hobbit trilogy. Also in its favor, a greasy Stephen Fry hops into the film for a delightfully wicked turn as the slippery Master of Lake Town.
But little else in the film pays off like it should. The whole product feels disjointed and unfocused. Spinningly fluid camerawork speeds over moments that could be lovely and forces empty spectacle on otherwise dramatically taut visuals (as we see in the eaves of Mirkwood, near the Ringwraith tombs, and all over Dol Guldur). The atmosphere and background artwork of these scenes is brilliant, but the camerawork sacrifices drama for spectacle. Used selectively, this type of photography could work. But almost every shot in the movie is kinetic, and at such speed or angles that the action becomes confused and the drama insubstantial. And some visuals are so overwrought with special effects that they lose focus and tangibility. Special effects should be special, buttressing the visuals rather than commanding them for two and a half hours.
Don't get me wrong, the film is visually stunning. But I'm using this film as a sort of example to express my fear that this is the direction of all fantasy or adventure franchises (I was concerned with Maleficent in the same way). I worry that we will soon be in over our heads with films featuring top-heavy action without drama, special effects for disconnected spectacle, and extravagant visuals that are ultimately nothing much to look at. Elaborate design only works if it supports the art's substance.
An equally problematic element is Desolation's surprisingly lazy script. At least three lines are directly stolen from LotR. Tauriel's use of athelas mirrors Arwen's in Fellowship (2001), and the Master's henchman Alfrid (though potentially a memorable creation) has a woefully similar design to Wormtongue in Two Towers (2002). We know Jackson's team has incredible creative talents, so why is he resigning himself to familiar patterns? Some have argued that these elements tie Hobbit and LotR together; I contend that with only six films, the filmmakers should focus on expanding their universe and covering as much ground as possible artistically as dramatically, rather than reinforcing vague patterns that ultimately mean nothing to the plot of the films or the themes of Tolkien's works. The source material, cast, and crew are consistent between the trilogies, and that is more than enough to bridge the gap.
The script also features severe pacing problems, which surprised me because Jackson has proven time and again his brilliant control over pacing lengthy films. After an atmospheric, talky prologue (a risky and arguably successful move), the film flies at breakneck speed -- sadly skimming the surface of the rich Beorn episode and reducing the adventures in Mirkwood to a mere fraction -- to the halls of the Mirkwood elves, where it screeches to a halt. There it assumes acceptable dramatic pace, maintained until the dwarves enter the Lonely Mountain. Meanwhile, Gandalf's independent ventures are forcibly spliced in in brief and irregular increments. His scenes are so fast, heavy with special effects, and whirling visuals ad nauseam that they feel part of another movie entirely. Finally, let me say that while the romantic weirdness between Tauriel, Legolas, and Kili the dwarf is interesting, it also feels hopelessly contrived and poorly executed. But I'll stop there, or we'd be here until the new movie comes out.
Scene study time! To further illustrate the central problem with this movie, let's discuss how the above elements work (poorly) in the climax, when the dwarves finally face Smaug in Erebor. Though Bilbo's initial encounter with Smaug is lovely, Thorin enters to interrupt his escape. We've spent two whole movies fretting about the state of the mountain and the dangerous potency of Smaug, and now the heir to the kingdom just saunters down to check out what the burglar's been doing? This could work, if we attribute his behavior to his obsession with the gold, but it doesn't make any sense that he would enter after the dwarves heard that Smaug was awake. Then, when Smaug spots Thorin and Bilbo, the remaining dwarves just charge in and brandish their weapons. As if they think that will do anything. The whole situation is laughably stupid.
The harried scheme concocted by the dwarves is similarly silly, and the whole final act is poorly executed by the filmmakers. The plot is needlessly complicated, and the editing jerks us from one set of dwarves to another as the different "teams" race around to start fires, move billows, yank levers, swing on chains, and shout obscure things. The dwarves' ludicrous efforts notwithstanding, the writers wanted to make an already complicated sequence more exciting by forcing several Tense Moments when main characters could die: Bilbo leaping off a collapsing platform high in the air, Thorin swinging up and down on a chain above an abyss. And, finally, though Smaug logically seems to focus on Thorin, he easily (and uncharacteristically, in my estimation) gets sidetracked by the other dwarves in their cat-and-mouse game.
I am biased, but for the sake of argument, Tolkien wrote a fitting encounter that works much better logistically and dramatically: Encamped on the slopes of Erebor, the dwarves are attacked by Smaug, who secretly issued from his lair after chatting with Bilbo. Jackson could have expanded that -- as he does so well -- and made it just as dramatic. He could thus have avoided the dizzying spiral shots inside the mountain, the needless designs of complex dwarvish machinery, and the obnoxious special effects of piles of gold coins being tossed about. This also would have simplified the unwelcome plot devices while maintaining (even increasing) the dramatic intensity. Just saying.
That said, the film's ending is fine. Jackson pulls a nice "Smaug the Golden" thing by taking Tolkien's title and making it literal. This translation is infinitely better than Jackson's irritating misinterpretation of Sauron's "Red Eye", but that's a conversation for another time. Splitting up the dwarves was a good idea, methinks, as it promises emotional urgency for the opening of The Battle of the Five Armies (2014); Bard's imprisonment and the orc attack on Lake Town similarly seem brilliant additions to the tale. Leaving everything hanging is a gamble on Jackson's part, and somewhat forced, but I think it works. We'll just have to wait to see if it pays off this December.
IMDb: The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug
Post-script: Though my reactions to the camerawork and weird editing remain steadfast, the Extended Edition of this film definitely improved my opinion of the picture. And each time I watch it, I like it more. We desperately needed more of Beorn on screen -- partly because he just wasn't shown enough in the theatrical release as a character, partly because we know he'll return in the final film -- and we got it. Hopefully he'll earn his place as a truly awesome character before the Battle of the Five Armies is over, but we'll have to wait and see. The scene of Gandalf introducing the dwarves to him (a fan favorite) not only adds Beorn moments, but allows Ian McKellen some room for acting.
The enchanted stream and white stag in Mirkwood made me happy because the scene made Mirkwood a greater character and threat. The theatrical release skipped right through Mirkwood up to the spiders, making the psychedelic weirdness of the forest only a funky anecdote; here, we see the more specific and shocking realities of Mirkwood's malice. Where The Lord of the Rings relished in its profundity and enigma, The Hobbit seems to want to explain -- or, as I like to say, show and tell -- the subtleties of Middle-earth. The white stag adds a level of mystery to the film that has been missing in the series, but then it also ties Thranduil's elk-motif in with the fauna of Mirkwood.
The (several) added scenes with Thrain are just fabulous. His presence makes Thorin a more interesting character by association for a couple of reasons: His declared title of King Under the Mountain makes more sense to us the more we see his paternal connections (Thror in the previous film, Thrain in this one), and the madness that supposedly runs in his family (brought on by their dwarf-ring) feels less contrived when we see the extent to which it affects his father. The scenes in Dol Guldur add to Gandalf's adventure because Thrain's attack is so unexpected and vicious, and because the implications of Thrain's presence make Dol Guldur more horrifying. Jackson's early days as a horror filmmaker make these sequences shine, much like in Shelob's Lair in Return of the King. I am surprised, I must say, that the theatrical relsease used some of the same footage of Gandalf with Thrain, but simply cut Thrain out. It kind of blows my mind that that would work logistically, but it does.
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