Revisit: The Lord of the Rings Trilogy

A spiritual reflection on the trilogy 20 years after its completion

One night, in the summer of 2002, a 10 or 11 year-old me — along with my older siblings and next-door neighbors — plopped down on one of the chairs in my parents’ basement for a movie night.

That night’s movie: The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring. It was a VHS edition and, before then, I had never read or really knew of J.R.R. Tolkien’s magnum opus. All I can recall is seeing the poster months before at the former Milford Showcase Cinemas (or the same lot where ShopRite is today) and being intrigued by the two giant statues — which are the Argonaths on the River Anduin.

In short: my first venture into Middle Earth was relatively “blind.” However, by the end, I was completely spellbound. The expertly paced prologue is a masterclass of introducing a new world, the tone, and the overarching ‘good versus evil’ conflict. Meanwhile, each character and setting — like the Argonaths — felt real, in the sense that there was a deeper yet unseen mythology just lurking beneath for further exploration. And the battles were epic, only foreshadowing the massive clashes to come in The Two Towers and The Return of the King (especially Helm’s Deep).

It made the world feel alive. That’s not only a testament to Tolkien’s imagination, but to the creative minds adapting his “precious” tale.

The Lord of the Rings trilogy ranks as my favorite movies ever. It’s hard to synthesize my deep, glowing love for these films, which has made this Revisit the most challenging to write — but I can say this: as soon as Samwise Gamgee closes the door to his Hobbiton home at the end of Return of the King, I immediately want to restart the journey. Like my sister, Mary, the only other film/series where I have had that sensation is Band of Brothers — and I don’t think that’s a coincidence. Both are epic tales of physical and spiritual warfare. They are tales of the Bible’s “iron sharpens iron” fraternity (i.e., the camaraderie we need and what we should seek in our daily lives). Then again, Lord of the Rings was born out of the Great World War, and its lasting impact on Tolkien is evident throughout the work, such as the relationship between Frodo and Sam, as well as the Dead Marshes.

However, Peter Jackson’s adaptation was a turning point in my life, where I not only wanted to know Middle Earth inside and out, but also the movie-making process.

Thankfully, Jackson and company extensively filmed behind-the-scenes footage — and I have watched those several times at this rate. (See below)

Throughout pre-production, production, and post-production, you see that the joy of crafting the trilogy outweighs the struggles and adversity. The mere fact Jackson shot three behemoth films simultaneously, and they’re coherent, is a marvel. But constructing three of (perhaps) the greatest films of all time is awesome in the truest sense of the word. That joy and love for the source material is palpable. And the fellowship between the actors is genuine. Jackson’s willingness to share the behind-the-scenes wholeheartedly and without reservations reflects his ‘passing of the torch’ mentality: that these films don’t exist in a vacuum. They are inspiring others and the next generation (and generations to come) to enter filmmaking. For awhile, filmmaking was a dream of mine. I interned at Walden Media, won a film contest with friends in college, and worked on a documentary after graduating. During Covid, I wrote a few screenplays — one of which I turned into my online novella, The Condemned (read it here).

This love for the creative process stems back to The Lord of the Rings and Jackson’s openness. For that, I am forever grateful.

Much like my other life obsessions, Lord of the Rings was no different: from the video games (the Two Towers is still the toughest game I’ve ever played), board games, action figures, my studying music in college, to even re-enacting the Battle of Amon Hen as a kid at Coggshall Park in Fitchburg, Mass. Yet The Lord of the Rings has been a more powerful, cultural short-hand in my life than anything else (maybe even more than Spongebob), meaning if I meet a stranger and we talk about these movies, chances are we will be lifelong friends.

In truth, these films informed how I have viewed movies since, and they exemplify what movies can be: transformative. The greatest stories do that — and The Lord of the Rings ranks in cinema’s highest echelons; and shines even more brightly 20 years after its release.

A Spiritual Reflection

The Lord of the Rings is much more than a fantasy epic. And it goes beyond Tolkien’s aspirations to create English myths and new languages. Though the author has said, “There is no ‘allegory’, moral, political, or contemporary in the work at all,” the books — and movies — depict the spiritual struggle more so than any other fictional work I have encountered.

For context, Tolkien was a devout Catholic who adored Christ’s Real Presence in the Eucharist (which too many Catholics have sadly forgotten). As he once beautifully wrote:

“Out of the darkness of my life, so much frustrated, I put before you the one great thing to love on earth: the Blessed Sacrament. . . . There you will find romance, glory, honour, fidelity, and the true way of all your loves on earth, and more than that: Death: by the divine paradox, that which ends life, and demands the surrender of all, and yet by the taste—or foretaste—of which alone can what you seek in your earthly relationships (love, faithfulness, joy) be maintained, or take on that complexion of reality, of eternal endurance, which every man’s heart desires.”

An influence like so cannot be divorced from one’s art. From my meager output, I can attest to that. Viewing life as a cosmic struggle between Good and Evil is, therefore, heavily imbued in The Lord of the Rings. In the literary sense, Sauron is the ultimate evil bent on dominating all life in Middle Earth, amassing an army of corrupted Elves (or Orcs) and influencing other powerful creatures to “abandon reason for madness,” as Gandalf accuses his former friend, Saruman. The Ring of Power Sauron forged in secret is his essence — completely antithetical to the Eucharist Tolkien loved. While those who partake in Communion are one with God, those who possess the Ring of Power are convinced of “wielding” its power; yet they are bound in the darkness, bound to sin, all the while surrendering their greatest possession: their very souls.

Gollum/Smeagol is certainly the most obvious example in The Lord of the Rings of the Ring’s corruptibility. It literally deforms his body, and narrows his worldview for selfish gain. Sin ruptures us from our humanity — it makes us fearful, angry, doubtful, and despairing. Yet man’s true nature, as God intended and shown through Christ’s Transfiguration, is glory. A soul cannot exist on Earth without a body, and Tolkien’s faith personifies this truth in Smeagol’s physicality from an upright, good Hobbit-like being to the murderous, hunched Gollum.

Gollum is a mirror to readers and viewers alike of sin’s enslaving power — and how we, by our own will, can stoke it. However, sin and doubt certainly weave into the story in more subtle ways than Middle Earth’s deformed monsters. For instance, by blood, Aragorn is the true king of Gondor, yet he rejects his vocation out of a fear that power will corrupt him; so he becomes a “mere ranger,” living in the wild. He is not evil. In fact, the character does good like protecting the Hobbits from the Ringwraiths (who are another example of sin’s corruption), but by initially rejecting his duty, he lessens himself, and casts himself as an outsider. Isn’t this similar to us possibly rejecting the Holy Spirit or God’s will for our lives? In the end, Aragorn course corrects, devoting his life sacrificially, but Tolkien shows how doubting our calling clouds our judgment and innocuously leads us astray.

Yet the main spiritual struggle lies in Frodo’s heart. And here is where Tolkien provides no easy answer. Frodo’s journey to the fires of Mount Doom, to cast the Ring of Power “back into the fiery chasm of which it came” is spiritual: the burden of sin constantly consumes his soul, yet he constantly perseveres toward the Right with the help of Sam (who is a guardian angel of sorts). But at the pinnacle moment, when Frodo has the opportunity to destroy the evil and save Middle Earth from Sauron, he falters. Only when Gollum gnaws off Frodo’s finger and falls into Mount Doom’s lava is Sauron defeated — and his friends saved from a massive army.

It makes one wonder: did Frodo succeed in his mission?

He had not the will to complete what he set out to do at the Council of Elrond in Rivendell. But the moment embodies not Sauron’s fear, but Satan’s — the ultimate Tempter fiercely, viciously attacks those longing to do the Right. He wants to prove that the good can fall. It is spiritual warfare after all (though we cannot save ourselves; only God’s grace can save us). But still, Frodo could have despaired following his inability to let go of the Ring. He could have damned himself (which is what we do to ourselves. God does not damn us to Hell). Instead, he chose life, to endure, to grab Sam’s hand — which is a role-reversal of when Frodo saved Sam from drowning in the Fellowship of the Ring.

However, Frodo is scarred by sin (as we all are). If The Lord of the Rings were allegorical, it would most resemble the Sacrament of Reconciliation (i.e., which offers sinners forgiveness for offenses committed against God). Even though God bestows mercy on contrite hearts, sins’ effects can still linger — meaning that the process of reconciling with God is not only confined to the confessional. We must “go and sin no more,” and strive to be holy from then on. In the movies, even after Frodo returns to the Shire, the Morgul blade’s sting he endured at Weathertop pains him. He is aimless, searching for healing and peace, hence why he leaves Middle Earth to the Undying Lands. His persistence for healing, though, embodies the Christian life: prayer and sin cannot occupy the same heart. One will succumb to the other. But if one continues praying and pursuing holiness, they will defeat evil and gain the ultimate freedom from pain and suffering. This is Frodo’s journey.

And it is our journey. Even though the epic tale is set in a fantastical land, faith is the foundation of The Lord of the Rings. Theologians and other big-brained scholars have made this argument more eloquently than yours truly ever could; but the older I get, the more powerful this story becomes — because it is rooted in spiritual, human truths.

In fact, in terms of evangelization, I wonder if The Lord of the Rings has introduced faith and/or spirituality to more people than say the great works of St. Thomas Aquinas or St. Augustine in the 20th and 21st centuries. It goes to show that stories are important. People want and are seeking tales of heroic virtue, hope, fraternity, and victory over evil. As Sam wisely says in The Two Towers:

It’s like in the great stories Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were, and sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy. How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad happened. But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something. Even if you were too small to understand why.

It is why today’s Hollywood and art is so loathsome. It lacks a true moral compass, which is even evident by the maligned Amazon show, The Rings of Power. (See my review for that here)

In the greatest story — this Theodrama we live in together — Tolkien believed the Victory has been won: that Christ, by his crucifixion and resurrection, defeated sin and death, which Catholics celebrate in the Blessed Sacrament. Ultimately, The Lord of the Rings imparts on readers and viewers this valuable truth: that even though evil can consume us, bind us, and lead us to the brink of despair, that “there is some good in this world Mr. Frodo. And it’s worth fighting for.”

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Even my appendices are inspired by Tolkien…

Appendix I: The Lord of the Rings’ score is my favorite for any film. This past February, I had the chance to see a performance accompanying a screening of The Fellowship of the Ring with my younger brother, Johnny. In a few months, I’ll see The Two Towers. So, if you live in the New York area, and you love Middle Earth, it’s a must-see event. See tickets here.