Busy week! Culminating in watching The Hobbit in IMAX last night. I didn’t like Fellowship of the Ring on release, loved Two Towers and thought Return of the King was underwhelming. I find Tolkien laborious and thought The Hobbit was a terrible book. It was only after the extended editions of Lord of the Rings came out that I truly got into them.
So I’m surprised to find I loved The Hobbit in its entirety, cripplingly long first act and all. I can’t disagree with the criticism – there’s plenty to fault – but I willingly trade any small flaws for – in my view – the most interesting example of the Hero’s Journey ever to be put on screen.
This naturally leads us back on to Star Wars.
Much is made of the debt Star Wars owes to Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey. A thousand undergraduate essays have been devoted to spotting the milestones in Star Wars that are listed in the book. The Call to Adventure, Magical Aide, The Belly of the Beast and others all have obvious parallels in the adventures of the Skywalkers’.
But my particular favourite – The Refusal Of The Call – has never really been explored in Star Wars. Luke initially says no to Obi-wan on account of his Aunt and Uncle, but their prompt deaths allows him to get over that barrier quickly. Anakin doesn’t so much as refuse it as cries that his mother can’t come along too – somewhat understandable for an eight year old. But both of them yearn dream for high adventure.
The arrogance and naivety of youth is a common thread throughout literature and history. Heck, the First World War was initially rampant with idealistic heroism and nationalism, looking with relish to the heroics of conflict.
As shown by that example, however, optimism doesn’t last long when confronted with the realities of war. Running another human being through with a bayonet is a life-changing experience. So is seeing towns burn from your bombing runs or hearing screams from soldiers pumped full of bullets from your gun. War is not easy for normal folk. It’s not supposed to be.
Except, of course, your name is Luke Skywalker. This boy is shooting imperial stormtroopers, gunning down TIE Fighters and – oh yes – destroying battle stations full of millions of people. And he doesn’t even bat an eyelid. That’s cold, brother.
Now I’m aware this is a space opera about muppets and space samurai, so I don’t hold it against the first movie that Luke didn’t stop to agonize over his body count. But Star Wars did set the precedent for consciously following Campbell’s Hero’s Journey in cinema, thereby at least inspiring countless tales where heroes turn from shop assistants to superheroes, mentally ready and equipped for the life of high adventure (read: mass murder).
Martin Freeman’s interpretation of Bilbo Baggins breaks this nasty trend. Even after Bilbo accepts the call to adventure, he is still at best a reluctant hero. He doesn’t suddenly become ready to face down orcs, or shoot up trolls with a dozen arrows from a bow. He still retains his old traits, like preferring the homely surroundings of The Shire to life on the road or missing his books and hobbit hole. Even when Bilbo finds his calling and purpose within the adventure, he is doing it with one eye firmly focused on going back home once they have succeeded.
I personally find this type of character far more interesting than Luke in his initial steps, or Anakin throughout his own journey. The only similar parallel I can think of in Star Wars is that of Jacen Solo, who spend the best part of three books debating whether or not The Force was his calling in life. Even so, he has comes through at the end of Balance Point, becoming the Big Hero once more.
Aside from mixing things up, this different take on the Hero’s Journey also makes Bilbo a far more sympathetic character. Very few of us will ever be an ongoing hero of national leader. But most of us will at some point have to sacrifice the comforts of home in order to take on some sort of tough and trying problem. Think about work or school when you have to do this. It’s when don’t want to do something but we do anyway that is when we are at our most heroic.
Reading over the first few chapters of Hero’s Journey, I think this is exactly what Campbell was referring to. Not the eager youth looking to embrace the Road of Trials, but the smaller, humbler, content little person, moving beyond their village into the unknown.
Delusions Of Grandeur 