Star Wars and Lord of the Rings

As of late, we've spent some time discussing both Star Wars and Lord of the Rings.  In the process, we've come to reflect on these epics and the odd relationship they share.

Just as Lucas defined theatergoers' expectations with Star Wars, Peter Jackson provided the standard for a new generation of geeks when he made The Lord of the Rings. The Middle Room stands somewhat between these generations. Perhaps that is why this is The MIDDLE Room.

No, our mistake: it's because we are situated between the front and back rooms.

We realize there are those who would pit these series against each other, as Kevin Smith has done in jest in Clerks 2, but there is no real animosity here. In truth, these have had a symbiotic relationship: neither would exist in its current form without the other. Lucas, when crafting his movies, was influenced by Tolkien's books, just as Peter Jackson was influenced by the Star Wars films.

Consider, if you will, the ending of The Empire Strikes Back. Han Solo is captured and taken to Jabba the Hutt, a scene reminiscent of Frodo's capture at the end of Tolkien's The Two Towers. In both cases, there is a great deal of ambiguity as to whether the hero is living or dead. Incidentally, this same cliffhanger occurs, in one form or another, in The Matrix Reloaded, Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest, Chronicles of Riddick (though it's unclear if we'll ever receive the conclusion to that), Star Trek 2: The Wrath of Khan, and X-Men 2.

In Peter Jackson's Return of the King, during a scene not in the book, Eowyn kneels beside the mortally wounded Theoden. "I'm going to save you," she tells him. "You already did," he assures her, paraphrasing Luke and Vader at the end of Return of the Jedi, whose title is almost certainly a reference to Tolkien's Return of the King.

Would Obi Wan have fallen to Vader if Gandalf hadn't to the Balrog? Did Tolkien's description of Sauron influence the look of Darth Vader? Did Vader then influence the design on Sauron in the movie?

From a more practical standpoint, it's unlikely New Line would have authorized funding for the Lord of the Rings trilogy without the precedent laid down by Star Wars. And one has to wonder if Fox would have laid down the money for Star Wars if it weren't for the existing fantasy and science fiction fan base Tolkien helped establish.

We could go on, but the point, we think, is made. These two trilogies are part of the same tradition, two towering beacons which help define the genre and, perhaps, each other.

The Art of War

Recently, Ain't It Cool News ran a contest, challenging readers to write a short piece explaining how they would contend with a Balrog, were they in Gandalf's shoes in the mines of Moria.  I entered this competition, devoting a whole hour toward composing a battle strategy.

The grand prize was an object with more worth than all of the Shire: two tickets to see the score of The Fellowship of Ring performed live.

Someone else won that.

However, unless there is another Erin Snyder in Astoria, NY who entered this contest, I came in a respectable second.  So, without further ado, here is my entry:

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First things first - I’d need a little time to work.  I mean, there’s a good quarter mile or so between myself and the bridge of Khazad-dum, and, since I don’t personally serve the secret fire or wield the flame of Anor, I’ve got some prep work to take care of.  That means I have to buy some time to do this right.

So.  What are my assets?  I’ve got Aragorn and Boromir, both of whom are a tad too eager to cut down anything in their way: fine in most circumstances, but swords are no more use here.  I’ve got Legolas, who can apparently neuter a fly at a quarter mile: again, impressive… but not much help.  And there’s Gimli, who’s still pissed about the extermination of all the bearded men and women in Moria.

The thing is, those guys are all going to be useful down the road.  I need something expendable; something we’re not going to need to wrap up the trilogy.

What’s this?  I’ve also got four hobbits.  Let’s stop and think for a moment.  All right, we’re definitely going to need one hobbit to hurl the One Ring into the fires of Mount Doom, and it’s good to have a spare halfling in case you lose one to giant spiders, orcs, or a hungry house cat or something… but FOUR hobbits?  Come on; who are we kidding?  This fellowship is supposed to represent the unity of the diverse peoples of Middle Earth.  Hobbits account for what?  Maybe zero-point-two percent of the world’s population - even less if you measure by biomass.  Why do they make up nearly half the damn fellowship?  You think we couldn’t use a few more elven archers here?  Or what about one of Beorn’s descendants?  Come on: which is going to take out more orcs: a hobbit or a freaking were-bear?

Unfortunately, when the details were getting ironed out in Rivendell, Elrond was half-assing it.  Not too surprising, since he’s getting ready to retire to a nice gated community in the west.  You could see it on his smug face: “Three more spots on the fellowship?  Yeah, the hobbits will do.  Why the hell not?  I’m leaving, anyway!”

But that’s in the past.  Here we are now, with an army of orcs in wait and a demon of shadow and fire bearing down on us.  I know it’s harsh; I know it’s cold, but a leader’s got to know how to make sacrifices.  That’s why I need Pippin to run down a side tunnel screaming, “I’ve got the ring, I’ve got the ring!”

Don’t look at me that way: if the pipsqueak had kept his hands to himself, we’d have avoided this mess altogether.

Where was I?  Oh yes, while Pippin’s luring the Balrog away, that gives the rest of us some time to heroically survive crumbling staircases, dodge orcish arrows, and dart over the thin bridge.  At this point, we’d have plenty of time to escape while the Balrog’s roasting the Took like a marshmallow over a campfire, only… well… I just don’t feel right about leaving.

Besides, if we don’t avenge Pippin’s death, the other three halflings are going to be bitching about it all the way to Mordor.

So.  Time for Gimli to earn his keep.  The bridge of Khazad-dum isn’t the most structurally stable piece of engineering in the best of times; beneath the weight of a Balrog, it’s got to be on the verge of going on its own.

All I need Gimli to do is help it along.  A few well placed swings with his ax, and he should have a crack going.  Then I’d get everyone across and wait for old Durin’s Bane to show his face.

Now this is the important part: I’m not going anywhere near that damn bridge.  Not within ten feet.  Why?  Because the Balrog’s got a goddamned whip!

No, I’d keep a good distance from the bridge and shout insults across.  “Hey, we got a call from King Minos, and he wants you back in your maze!”  He takes a step, the bridge falls out from under him, and down he goes, tumbling end over end until he hits the bottom.

Not good enough?  He might still survive?  Fine.  Then I take up a collection of spare change from the fellowship and toss the coins over the edge.  If a quarter dropped by a construction worker can dent my Chevy from twenty stories, these things should be a damned meteor shower by the time they reach the bottom.  And, if not, no big deal: that Balrog isn’t climbing back up anytime this week.

So, with a little common sense, I could get eight out of nine members of the fellowship through all right, as well as rid us of some comic relief.  I just have to remember to tell Treebeard to take a stroll by Isengard, and I’ll need some other way of lighting the Beacons of Gondor.  That shouldn’t be too difficult: after all, they keep the fire burning right above the fuel.  I could probably knock it over with a rock or something.

All in all, not too shabby.

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The Middle Room offers our sincere apologies to fans of Pippin and Billy Boyd.  And to the first place winner, we offer our congratulations... and our scorn.

Book Review: Vampires Today: The Truth About Modern Vampirism

Recently, I ordered Vampires Today: The Truth About Modern Vampirism from Amazon, and have just now finished the last page. There are many elements which make Joseph Laycock's look at the vampiric subculture both fascinating and impressive. It can be said - accurately, I would add - that the work is educational without being dull, entertaining without being exploitative, funny without being insulting, and honest without being biased.

It is the work's impartiality that I find most impressive. Years ago, I studied religion back in Hampshire College (along with Joseph Laycock, by the way, which gets us past the requisite "interest of full disclosure" acknowledgement). While it was easy to find resources about large, organized religions, the only information about smaller movements tended to be produced by practitioners themselves. Trying to locate unbiased information about the Neo-Pagan movement, for instance, was an exercise in frustration: anything I found online was suspect by it's very nature.

"Vampires Today" was written for scholars of religion and cultural trends who are writing and approaching those who identify as vampires. Laycock provides a careful appraisal of the community, revealing, among other things, that these are not frightening people. Despite some very entertaining warnings, Laycock describes his interactions as being relatively mundane; certainly no more unusual than one would expect from other groups outside the mainstream.

The central point of the book is that the Vampire Movement cannot be understood as a religion, at all, but rather a culturally significant identity. Laycock's arguments are direct and rational, and his conclusions are highly convincing.

Laycock's exploration delves into the subcultures, organizations, and religions of the "real vampire," as well as their portrayal in the media. Laycock refuses to speculate on the validity of the vampires' claims: like any good scholar, he is observing, not judging.

While the book seems to have been written for academics, it has far greater appeal. Judging by the movement's positive reaction, it seems likely that many in the vampire community will purchase "Vampires Today." In addition, I would strongly recommend this book to anyone with an interest in the supernatural and history of the occult movement.

But, more than anyone else, this book needs to find its way into the hands of the myriad confused and depressed teenagers all over the world. New religious and cultural movements suffer from a lack of impartial literature, and, as a result, it's difficult to gain any perspective or realistic appraisal. Right now, there are unknown numbers of Twilight fans who are toying with the idea of adopting the label "vampire." This book provides a window into that world, along with a summary of vampire literature, film, and role playing games, which could provide an invaluable resource to those trying to define themselves. And, whatever choice they make, they'd be better prepared for what they would find.

Likewise, if you are a football player looking to elevate and better direct your insults against the goths you're giving wedgies; there is no better resource available. Truly, this is a work with wide appeal.

Whoever you are, if you are interested in the vampire subculture in any capacity, Laycock's book is a far better place to start than Google.

Joseph Laycock is an "independent scholar" and a graduate of Harvard University. He is not a vampire himself, however I can confirm that, during a long running Dungeons & Dragons game I ran, he once played a wizard who became a vampire.

Listen Up

I expect most readers of The Middle Room will have seen this already, but, in case you missed it, Gabriel McKee, geek prophet, was recently interviewed on "Listen Up," a Canadian program about religion:



I particularly like the part where Gabe is asked to expand on the possibility of using a time machine to visit Jesus Christ.

The Translated Man

Author and frequent visitor to The Middle Room, Chris Braak, has recently published his first novel. It was our sincere intent to offer a review of this book once we'd finished reading it.

However, no sooner had we concluded the novel than we discovered a review had just been posted here. We were somewhat dismayed to discover that it encapsulated our opinions as well as we could ever hope to, leaving us in the awkward position of merely reiterating what has already been said.

Therefore, what follows will be more a reflection that a review.

The Translated Man is, indeed, an excellent read, blending elements of science fiction, horror, and adventure into an intriguing story. What truly shines here are the descriptions of the world, which takes on a great deal of depth.

The first chapter is a bit awkward, but stick with it and you'll be well rewarded. It quickly evolves into a fascinating and intriguing detective story. That the story happens to unfold on a world that blends elements of Lovecraftian horror with nineteenth century science fiction and horror only enhances the novel.

While we have little to add to what has already been said, we find ourselves driven to offer an opinion as to the genre this book belongs in. The setting is unique. It shares common ground with steam punk, of course, but such similarities strike us as superficial: beneath the surface, this is another creature entirely. In terms of elements, The Translated Man could almost be seen as a distant cousin to Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy, though the tone could hardly be more different.

We've heard it called many things, but we have taken to classifying it under the heading of "phlogiston punk". To our knowledge, there are no other works of phlogiston punk in existence, a fact that's easy to forget as the setting is so well developed it feels, at times, that it's been evolving for centuries. The Translated Man is a dizzyingly inventive book.

If you are interested, it can be ordered here in print or digital form.