THE LORD OF THE RINGS (1978): An animated adaptation of Tolkien’s book (or rather, its abridgment)

Someone once said that J.R.R. Tolkien’s novel The Lord of the Rings is entirely untranslatable into the language of film. These words would hold true if Peter Jackson hadn’t proven them wrong, as he, in my opinion (shared by many others), created an excellent cinematic adaptation of the novel.

In the late 1950s and early 1960s, the world of Middle-earth enchanted countless readers. Among the most notable fans of Hobbits were the hippies, who, amidst their experiments with Timothy Leary’s theories (who knows what this man became famous for?), fully immersed themselves in the tale of the One Ring. It was during this time that whispers about a film adaptation began. In 1957, Al Brodax, Morton Gary Zimmerman, and Forest J. Ackerman personally approached Tolkien with a proposal to create an animated film. Suffice it to say, their adaptation sounded ridiculous from the start – the Hobbits weren’t supposed to walk on their hairy feet but to ride hideous Orcs. A concept not so much bold as foolish; how could one interpret the story so loosely? What horror…

Even The Beatles toyed with the idea of an adaptation. Can you imagine Paul McCartney as Frodo, John Lennon as Gandalf, and Ringo Starr and George Harrison as Elves? I’ll admit, it’s intriguing and daring. Yes, Aragorn and Arwen kissing to the tune of All You Need is Love, or Frodo reflecting on his idyllic life in the Shire to Yesterday (“yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away…”). Later, Stanley Kubrick himself was approached to helm the project, but he deemed a film adaptation of Tolkien’s work unfeasible. Slightly later, John Boorman expressed interest in bringing the adventures of the Hobbits to the silver screen, but that resulted in Excalibur, a fantasy tale about King Arthur (a very good one, by the way).

But my intention isn’t to recount the convoluted history of the potential and failed adaptations of The Lord of the Rings. Instead, I want to focus on one adaptation, created by Ralph Bakshi, a director known for his unconventional animated films. Unconventional because they are highly enigmatic and unusual. Cartoons not meant for children, though the drawing style he uses reminds me of Disney’s. Bakshi employs various editing techniques. In his most important work, American Pop, he alternates between photographs, live actors, and classic colorful animation.

In 1978, this hippie-like artist decided to tackle Tolkien’s prose, but the idea was immediately criticized. The first reason was the claim that Middle-earth’s world was untranslatable into film language: it was too complex to capture its multidimensionality in a movie. Cinema is not imagination, and the technology of the time lacked today’s capabilities. Criticism was also directed at Bakshi himself, who was seen as too original an artist, fond of experimenting with form. Since the film was to be animated, there was concern that the entire mythological atmosphere would be trivialized and that the result would be a naïve children’s cartoon.

Even the film’s runtime causes Tolkien purists to tremble with anxiety. It’s a two-hour movie ambitiously aiming to adapt the ENTIRE Tolkien novel. The runtime implies other concerns—condensation is unavoidable, but anyone unfamiliar with the film would surely ask just how condensed it would be. Is the essence preserved, or will the screen be filled with characters who bear only a passing resemblance to those in Tolkien’s iconic novel? Another question arises: how will Bakshi surprise us? Will his formal experiments overwhelm and dominate the content?

A multitude of questions arise, especially for a fan of Middle-earth. I must admit, I watched Bakshi’s film AFTER indulging in the excellent feast served by Peter Jackson. A concept of the world born in my imagination had taken concrete shape in Jackson’s film, shapes I couldn’t reject because they fascinated me. Herein lies a critical challenge: in evaluating Bakshi’s film, I’ll try not to take into account PJ’s accomplishment, which presented such a definitive portrayal of characters and locations. It’s hard to imagine a better Gandalf, Saruman, Hobbits, or Aragorn. It’s hard to envision a superior cinematic vision of Isengard, Mordor, or Moria—a filmic vision, not an imaginative one (as nothing can replace imagination). I must separate two distinct cinematic visions, two adaptations of the imagination of two different creators.

From the very beginning, Bakshi’s film stands out with its highly unusual blend of animated and live-action effects. The prelude tells the story of the Rings of Power. Here, Bakshi uses an interesting technique involving shadow play in a crimson glow. I must say, it created a fascinating and original effect.

After this prologue, Gandalf appears, arriving at Bilbo’s party. The film includes one of the funniest lines from Tolkien’s novel (“I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve”), but that’s all Bakshi gives us concerning Bilbo’s party. A brief conversation with Gandalf, and Bilbo leaves. Gandalf also disappears quickly, so much so that… five minutes later, we already see Frodo setting out for Bree. By chance, he’s accompanied by Sam, and suddenly Merry and Pippin appear out of nowhere. Moments later, they’re already in Bree…

As one can easily notice, Bakshi’s film is extremely condensed! No Bombadil, no Barrow-downs, practically nothing… Aragorn appears and… This character immediately reminded me of some kind of Native American dressed in boots straight out of an Alexandre Dumas novel(!).

After the battle with the Nazgûl at Weathertop, the wounded Frodo can only be healed by Elrond, the lord of the elves’ court in Rivendell. In the book, the character who saves Frodo from the Nazgûl near the ford is Glorfindel. In Bakshi’s film, however, it is… Legolas. And even he doesn’t save Frodo but simply lends him a horse. Frodo, therefore, flees from the Black Riders alone on horseback! So not only is the story heavily condensed, but it also involves a freewheeling reinterpretation of Tolkien’s narrative, which was meant to be an adaptation of The Lord of the Rings!

The crossing of the Caradhras mountain pass is virtually nonexistent. Moria feels… minimalistic, lacking the grandeur and renown of the dwarven city.

After Boromir’s death, the story quickly skips to The Two Towers, where Bakshi’s narrative begins to unravel. Merry and Pippin, captured by Orcs, manage to free themselves and enter Fangorn Forest. There, they meet Treebeard and… NOTHING. That’s the end of their story. Meanwhile, Frodo and his loyal companion, Sam, journey alone toward Mordor and encounter Gollum. Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas pursue the captured Hobbits and come across a resurrected Gandalf. They are joined by Theoden, King of Rohan, and together they seek to halt the march of the Orcs toward Isengard, culminating in the great Battle of Helm’s Deep.

And at this point, the film… ends! A narrator’s voice declares, “Thanks to the courage of Frodo’s companions, the forces of darkness were forever driven from the lands of Middle-earth. And with the end of the battle, the tale of The Lord of the Rings comes to a close.”

Quite a shock, isn’t it? Not a word about Frodo and Sam, not a word about Isengard, Sauron, or Gondor. Not a word about anything that happens after the Battle of Helm’s Deep. Such an ending can presumably be justified by one thing: a lack of funding to continue production. But does that excuse such liberties with the content of the novel?

Let’s also examine the characters and places as depicted by Ralph Bakshi. The Hobbits are simply unattractive. In my view, they’re poorly drawn, though I must admit I don’t generally enjoy Bakshi’s art style. His heavy-handed drawings lack finesse and lightness. Sam Gamgee is just an ugly Hobbit. The elves are portrayed as royal pages or minstrels strumming mandolins. The dwarves are normal-sized beings who differ from humans only in their beard length. Boromir looks like a bona fide Viking!

As for the locations… Isengard resembles Barad-dûr more than the elegant and slender tower of Orthanc! There’s not much to say about other places, as they barely appear on screen, if at all.

The Orcs, on the other hand, are depicted in an interesting way, stemming from Bakshi’s artistic technique of overlaying animation onto live-action footage. The Orcs are dressed-up actors, creatively “painted” with animation. The same applies to horses and other moving characters—they were filmed in live action and later overlaid with an animated filter. It’s an impressive effect that adds dynamism to the action.

In conclusion, I would say that Bakshi’s film is not a success. The entire story feels like a condensed version of Tolkien’s masterpiece—and an unfinished one at that. Critics of Tolkien adaptations will find in this film a strong argument to underscore the untranslatability of the humble Oxford professor’s prose into the language of cinema. But that’s not all. Bakshi created a mere cartoon, steering clear of the psychological depth that is integral to Tolkien’s work. The struggle against the power of the Ring—one of the most crucial themes of the novel—is practically absent here. The friendship between Sam and Frodo is poorly conveyed, and their closeness might even come across as latent homosexuality (instead of friendship, we get platitudes like “my dear Frodo”). This statement is, of course, an exaggeration, but I’m not alone in this view—I’ve come across similar opinions on online forums. However, this is a minor issue.

Such a simplification of the story could be justified by one thing: this is an animated film, so the authenticity of characters and places must be limited due to the constraints of the medium. But… is that enough reason for me to view this adaptation of The Lord of the Rings more favorably?