by Brian Sibley
Initially, we looked upon Philippa as really being the audience of the film; it was useful to have somebody like that on our team because if we were doing something that really irritated her, then we’d feel that we were probably going to irritate many thousands of other Tolkien fans. Whereas if she was excited and felt something was good, then hopefully that would be something the rest of the fan community would feel.
Eventually, she started writing dialogue and she very quickly began to show a wonderful ability to write scenes and come up with great ideas. Philippa became a fantastic screenwriter through working on The Lord of the Rings. In fact, her arrival on the project was absolutely critical; the screenplays benefited enormously from her ideas, imagination and skill.
As the scriptwriting progressed to new drafts of Rings, Philippa observed the working relationship between Fran and Peter: ‘Essentially, they are both dreamers, but I don’t believe that Fran started out being in love with the story of The Lord of the Rings; I suspect that she had a million other stories that she would probably have done before this one, but she knew that Peter was in love with it from the very beginning. He was in love with The Lord of the Rings just as he loves King Kong–for its imaginative vastness and creative sweep: he wanted to make an epic film. Fran, I think, did it for Peter, because she believed in him and knew that this was something that he needed to do and that he could do. But then Fran also began to fall in love with the story because she always is excited by Peter’s vision– and by the vision of the others, like the craftspeople at Weta–and, as a result, she becomes passionately involved and committed to the work that she does.’
How then to describe that vision? ‘One of Pete’s great strengths,’ says Philippa, ‘is writing what we call “the big print”, the stuff in between the dialogue scenes, the detailed action sequences.’
Each and every version of the script, however the content may differ, contains ‘big print’ episodes, such as that describing the Fellowship’s fight with the Cave-troll (a creature which Tolkien only mentions in passing, but which becomes a major adversary in the Mines of Moria sequence) or the graphic realisation of Frodo’s struggle with Shelob:
TWO great clusters of many-mirrored EYES protrude from her bulbous head. Her LEGS are bent, with a 12-FOOT SPAN and HAIRS that stick out like steel spines. Her HUGE SWOLLEN BODY, a vast bloated bag, sways and sags…Her age-old BLACK HIDE is knobbed and pitted, blotched with LIVID MARKS…but her belly underneath is PALE and LUMINOUS…
SHELOB squats above FRODO, her EYE CLUSTERS fidgeting with hideous delight, gloating over a prey trapped beyond all hope of escape.
FRODO suddenly draws STING! He slashes wildly at the GIANT SPIDER…hewing off the TIP OF A LEG! SHELOB SPASMS…a wild blur of thrashing LEGS!
‘Perhaps his greatest asset,’ says Philippa, ‘is his original vision: his determination never to tell something in an ordinary way but always to tell it in an extraordinary way and always with immediacy. He has an innate allergy to reportage, to being told about something rather than putting you in the action so that you experience it and feel it for yourself.’
We let Tolkien’s basic narrative unfold but always from the point-ofview of the characters involved, rather than stepping back and giving too much of an ‘Eye-of-God’ feel. You can have all the big, impressive wide-shots of charging armies, but if you cut to somebody fighting an orc, who are people going to care more about–an anonymous soldier or Aragorn? That’s just plain common sense!
Also, whilst setting out to remain true to the spirit of Tolkien’s story, I was nevertheless determined to follow my personal philosophy about writing scripts and making movies, which is that you have to create a series of questions in the audience’s mind–compelling questions and even doubts that they will wonder about–and then, strategically, as the film develops, you reveal the answers. It sounds simplistic, but if people are not asking themselves any questions then you probably have a dull, boring film!
And, in attempting to ‘remain true’ to what is a vast, multi-layered work, what had they most wanted to preserve? For Fran, the question is easily answered: ‘The story’s heart: the story of Sam and Frodo. We knew that if we failed to capture that, then it would be nothing more than an empty action-adventure yarn.’
‘On one level,’ observes Philippa, ‘you could say that Peter is the master of filmic language and how to tell the story visually, while Fran is the master of the characters and the heart of the story. But that’s deceptive because, actually, both of them can do what the other does as well. Fran has an amazing filmic sense and Pete can have an astonishing innate sense for what the heart of a scene should be, so the truth is probably that they have grown up together as film-makers and, as a result, there’s no beginning or end to what they give each other and the film; there’s just an inter-mingling of their talents. They also keep each other focussed, they keep each other honest, and they keep each other laughing, which, on these demanding projects, they really need to be able to do.’
So many issues had to be resolved: how to convey the weighty history that precedes the events in The Lord of the Rings; how to handle the story’s relentlessly episodic form or cope with scenes of the Fellowship which featured, on the journey from Rivendell to Moria, no less than nine major characters–two more than in The Magnificent Seven!
It was one of the curses, if you like, but also, ultimately, one of the joys. It became an asset when we were dealing with the narrative in The Two Towers and The Return of the King because, as the company breaks up, you can make the most of the individual character storylines and that’s quite fun. But when they’re all together in The Fellowship of the Ring and you’re trying to give them equal status in the story, it is very hard. I have huge admiration for the writers on the Dad’s Army television series and the way in which they took their eight or nine key characters and seamlessly gave them all presence and screen time. I’ve now found out how hard it is to juggle that sized character list in terms of the scriptwriting.
How they responded to this challenge was in turn influenced by the decision to make the first of the then two movies ‘Frodocentric’.
By ‘Frodocentric’ we meant that the film couldn’t be split into too many diverse directions, and since Frodo is clearly the movie’s protagonist we wanted to let him control moments, rather than share too much of it around. In shooting the film we tended to place the weight of the film onto Frodo’s shoulders because it seemed to us that, when we were away from Frodo, we had somehow disengaged ourselves from the driving force of the narrative. That worried us so we wanted to keep it as tight as we could on Frodo’s story. That was also true of the eventual editing of the film, as you will see if you compare the theatrical version with the extended edition. Look at the thirty-thirty-five minutes of extra footage in the longer cut and you’ll find that most of it is of the other characters, not of Frodo.
However, maintaining audience interest in the increasingly driven and emotionally isolated Frodo was a dramatic challenge, as was attempting to balance the parallel journeys of Frodo and Aragorn as well as convincingly depicting Aragorn’s relationship with Arwen–a crucial character for whom, rather thoughtlessly, Tolkien had written not a single line of dialogue until the third volume of the trilogy!
As the writers laboured under what was a Herculean task, there was the added burden of knowing that, even as they wrote, the clock was ticking and the dollars were adding up. Where previously Jackson films had virtually a shooting script and a budget based on the script by the time pre-production was due to start, that was not the case with The Lord of the Rings.
We felt that we were in a situation where we didn’t need a script to begin thinking about the design of the film because we had Tolkien’s book. I wanted to have the project as well planned as I possibly could in order to avoid finding ourselves with a huge amount of preparation to be done and not enough time to do it in, which is what happens all too often with films.
Miramax began advanci
ng Research and Development funding and Richard Taylor began focusing Weta on beginning the complex and time-consuming challenge of designing Middle-earth for the screen. Richard recalls, ‘I knew that it was going to be incredibly hard, incredibly huge, the biggest challenge that we’ll ever undertake in our lives. What made it tricky was that every reader of the book had such strongly preconceived ideas of what Tolkien’s world should look like and, at some time or other, we’ve all said that some movie was good but that the book was better! It’s because the written word is as big as the human imagination; it is as expansive and colourful as whatever we imagine as we read the story. Cinema, on the other hand, is only as big as what you can encapsulate in that second of footage on the screen. So I was very aware that we had to create a world that would spread beyond the four corners of the movie screen, the feeling of the different cultures of the people and the species of Middle-earth, which are filled with thousands of years of individual integrity and creativity and involvement with one another.’
A search was begun to find possible locations for the diverse environments depicted in the book that would use the natural landscape of New Zealand to give Middle-earth a look on screen that would underpin Peter’s quest for ‘realistic fantasy’.
I was determined that we wouldn’t let the movie’s art department take over the storytelling and that the characters wouldn’t wear silly-looking costumes or get swallowed up in absurd gobbledegook dialogue!
Grant Major came on board as Production Designer with Dan Hennah as Art Director: an already trusted team which Peter wanted to enhance with two artistic talents whose work he had discovered during his researches into Tolkien’s world.
While the script was beginning to be written, Peter was attempting to track down ‘every piece of visual interpretation of Tolkien that had ever been done,’ illustrated books, calendars, anything with images of Middle-earth that might help shape their own vision.
Two artists in particular began to fire Peter and Fran’s imagination: Alan Lee, who had been responsible for the first illustrated edition of The Lord of the Rings. Alan’s graphic interpretation in a suite of fifty exquisite watercolours had succeeded in overcoming the reservations of the Tolkien Estate, who had long resisted any depiction of the characters in the story; moreover, from its publication in 1991, the volume had established a reputation with fans as, if not the ‘definitive’ perspective on Middle-earth (since no two readers will ever agree about any visualisation), then at least one that was in harmony with Tolkien’s sensibility.
You look at Alan’s pictures and they feel authentic, like images of a real world: as if the artist had sat down with his paints and paintbrush and had painted things from life…
As Peter began buying second-hand copies of the many Tolkien calendars published over the years, Peter discovered the work of another artist, whose style complemented that of Alan Lee whilst possessing unique qualities that clearly recommended themselves to the film-maker’s eye. John Howe’s paintings–depicting some of the most dramatic encounters in the book, such as Gandalf’s battle with the Balrog, which he has made the subject of several pictures–were filled with an energy and dynamism and, like the pictures of Alan Lee, realism.
To begin with, Alan and John’s pictures were merely a source of inspiration, pinned up around the room in which the writers were grappling with the scripts. Then Peter began to think that the perception of these two artists had such relevance to the project that they ought really to be involved in designing the film.
We would look at Alan Lee’s pictures of Orthanc, or John Howe’s of Barad-dûr, and we began to realise that, one day, we were going to have to create designs for these places and how on earth would we do that without copying what they had already done so fantastically well? Not only that, but what sort of a job was it going to be for any designer to be asked to copy Alan and John’s work, and what happens if they simply can’t rise to their level? More and more we came to realise that we needed to see whether we could involve these artists in the creation process…
It was a decision that Peter felt obligated to run past Miramax and, beginning with Alan Lee, suggested engaging him as a conceptual artist. The proposal was given a cool reception by one of the executives, who maintained that Alan Lee should, under no circumstances, be approached as he had strong connections with the Tolkien family and Estate, with whom the studio did not in any way want to be involved. With typical Jackson wilfulness and tenacity, Peter went ahead and made contact with Alan–itself a difficult task as, initially, no one would give him the artist’s address or phone number.
Alan had worked on various film and television projects including Ridley Scott’s Legend and the comedy-fantasy Eric the Viking, written and directed by Monty Python’s Flying Circus star, Terry Jones. By a curious happenstance, another former ‘Python’, Michael Palin, was on a visit to New Zealand to launch his latest books at a dinner in Wellington. Peter and Fran were attending the event and managed to meet with Palin beforehand. It was an opportunity for Peter to tell one of his Python heroes how much his work had meant to him and, during the conversation, ask whether he could get him contact details for Alan Lee.
A couple of weeks later, thanks to Michael Palin, Peter had an address for the artist. A package containing videotapes of Heavenly Creatures and Forgotten Silver was despatched to Britain with an enquiry as to whether Alan would be interested in working on a film of The Lord of the Rings. Alan watched both films back to back the moment they arrived and immediately telephoned Wellington. His response was unequivocal: he liked Peter’s work, he really wanted to be involved with the Tolkien film and, no, he didn’t have a relationship with the family or Estate that would make his involvement an issue.
‘It’s really funny,’ comments Alan. ‘Peter spent a frantic time chasing around to find me and to get me to watch his videos and consider coming on board the project; I said “Yes,” and then spent the next five years–like everyone else on this project–chasing Peter, trying to get time with him to discuss this film we were making!’
It’s true! Alan’s job description eventually became, ‘The man trying to get five minutes with Peter to show him a drawing’!
Securing Alan Lee’s commitment was a significant development for the project: on one level, it hinted at difficulties to come in the relationship with Miramax; on another, it brought to the project an artist whose vision and integrity would be of tremendous importance to shaping the look of The Lord of the Rings. When John Howe also agreed to join the team, bringing with him his own unique talents not just as a graphic artist but also as someone with an exceptional knowledge of medieval armour and weaponry, the styling of Middle-earth was in safe hands.
Alan and John knew of each other’s work, but they met for the first time on the plane coming to New Zealand. I have this vivid memory of the day they arrived. They landed in Wellington and after going to their hotel to freshen up, they came to our house to have lunch with us.
We had spent months and months working on this script surrounded by Alan Lee and John Howe artwork: staring at it, imagining it, dreaming of their somehow being involved in the film, and then this amazing moment when the people who had created this art that we so much admired walked into our kitchen! It was really very, very exciting!
The two artists quickly caught the spirit of the project. Richard Taylor remembers: ‘Alan and John were crucial to achieving one of our aims, which was to create a strong feeling of culture. They approached the different races of Middle-earth–Elves, Dwarves, men, hobbits and Orcs–and began visualising their cultures which are based in detail and are the result of generations of people building on top of past generations’ work and culminating in the moment in time that is depicted in the film.’
Normally, there would be a finished script long before anyone started designing the look of the film, but it was a joy and an inspiration to have so much imaginative visual material descending on us while we were working on the screenplay.
When the first discussions about The Lord of the Rings had taken place, Richard Taylor had been adamant about one thing: ‘There was absolutely no doubt in my mind that we had to look after as many of the departments at Weta as we possibly could, rather than having the various elements–prosthetics and creatures, armour and weapons, miniatures, and digital effects–being dissipated amongst a variety of companies and effects houses around the world. I didn’t need to campaign with Peter because he agreed with me that, in the task of encapsulating Tolkien’s vision, if we could keep all those elements under the one roof at Weta, we could create a singular, visionary, Tolkienesque brushstroke across our work. The crossover between the departments would be as simple as walking through a door into the next room and it was that cross-pollination of ideas throughout the facility that would become the backbone of our work on The Lord of the Rings.’
Weta started working on developing computer graphics techniques because we knew that we had to get a head start on that work while we were still writing. We had done the Reaper for The Frighteners, along with a lot of special effects, but we hadn’t really created a proper, lifelike, CGI creature, so we decided to build the Cave-troll as a prototype: figuring out how to convincingly create a living being with a skeleton, muscles and skin.