THE LORD OF THE RINGS, or: Half a Day in the Cinema

Each of us has those films we’ve seen countless times — yet whenever there’s a chance to rewatch them, we seize it eagerly. For many people, myself included, that group of films undoubtedly includes The Lord of the Rings trilogy. So when I found out that my hometown cinema was hosting an all-night marathon of all three parts — in their extended editions, no less — I didn’t have to think twice. I quickly booked tickets for myself and my friend (because no one makes it to Mordor alone) and began counting down the days to the screening.

The marathon happened to coincide perfectly with the end of my exam session (I’d taken my last test just a few days earlier), so I was free and ready to focus solely on the twelve-hour journey through Middle-earth. The first small surprise: a full house. I couldn’t spot a single empty seat. Being a Lord of the Rings fan is one thing, but committing to watching all three films in a row — and in their longest possible versions — is a whole different story. It turned out, however, that there were quite a few brave souls in Poznań and the surrounding area willing to take up the challenge (and if someone had come all the way from another part of Poland just for the marathon, I admired them even more).

So it begins. I approached the first part with some skepticism. I remembered The Fellowship of the Ring as the one I’d always liked a bit less than The Two Towers or The Return of the King. So I didn’t expect any fireworks — unlike the hobbits greeting Gandalf in the Shire. And that’s exactly where a wonderful surprise awaited me.

I don’t know if it was the added scenes — which never broke the story’s rhythm but instead deepened my sense of immersion and helped me appreciate Tolkien’s world even more — or simply the fact that it was the beginning of the marathon and I wasn’t tired yet, but The Fellowship of the Ring turned out to be my favorite of the three and completely redeemed itself in my eyes. Suddenly, it no longer bothered me that the first film doesn’t feature any grand-scale battles like Helm’s Deep or the siege of Minas Tirith.

I realized that The Fellowship of the Ring doesn’t need one massive, epic clash — it’s packed with smaller-scale encounters (the passage through Moria, Arwen’s chase from the Nazgûl, the fight with the Uruk-hai, Boromir’s death) that more than make up for it.

Fifteen minutes of intermission, and it was time for the second part — The Two Towers. I wasn’t feeling tired yet; I returned to the theater relaxed and ready to follow the now-separated fellowship on their continuing journeys. What did the second installment have to offer? Above all, the defense of Helm’s Deep — my favorite sequence of the entire trilogy. I wish for every Lord of the Rings fan (and if you’re reading this, I’m assuming you are) to experience it on the big screen someday — it’s absolutely phenomenal.

Aside from the Helm’s Deep siege, The Two Towers also features what might be my favorite extended scene — one you won’t find in the theatrical cut. I’m referring, of course, to the moment when Merry and Pippin discover a stash of pipe-weed in the wrecked Isengard after the Ents’ attack. They briefly debate whether to share their find with Treebeard, and Merry eventually concludes that it’s better not to tell him since “it could be one of his distant relatives.” It’s a hilariously funny moment that adds little — if anything — to the plot (aside from reinforcing the hobbits’ fondness for pipe-weed), so it’s easy to understand why Jackson chose to remove it from the theatrical release.

The third part began shortly before six in the morning. I hadn’t closed my eyes even once during The Fellowship or The Two Towers, but I finally surrendered during The Return of the King, dozing off for about ten minutes during the siege of Minas Tirith. My friend fared worse — he’d been up early the previous day for work, and the third screening proved to be a barrier he couldn’t overcome. So, unlike Frodo and Sam on the screen, I continued the journey to Mordor alone. It didn’t bother me much, though — my mind was far away in Tolkien and Jackson’s world, watching Rohan charge through the ranks of orcs like a knife through butter.

The marathon ended a little after ten in the morning. I had spent around twelve hours in the cinema (minus two fifteen-minute breaks to breathe some blessed fresh air). Was it worth putting my body through such an ordeal? Of course it was — even though I spent almost the entire next day in bed. What I experienced in that cinema was an unforgettable adventure, one I’ll remember for the rest of my life.