You have my sword.
And you have my bow.
And my ax.
This is the only line in the entire "Lord of the Rings"
trilogy in which Legolas speaks directly to Frodo.
Five words across nine hours of runtime--
11, if you're watching the extended editions--
and we can't even be sure our intrepid Hobbit
knows Legolas's name by the end of the whole ordeal
since he never says it.
This is only an admittedly hilarious symptom
of the larger, more serious problem at play.
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In J.R.R Tolkien's books, the elves of Middle Earth
are an unendingly interesting race
of beings that manage to be both impish rascals
and ethereal enigmas.
They laugh, they sing, they drink to excess,
and they wax poetic about the nature of their eternal lives.
Though he did an excellent job bringing them
to the big screen, Peter Jackson's versions
of these characters lean a little further
into mystical, godlike territory.
Jackson's elves are capable of astonishing supernatural feats
and would never suffer the indignation
of drinking themselves under the table, at least
until "The Hobbit" movies.
The point remains that some of the most interesting characters
in the movies are elves.
But Legolas, the elven branch of the fellowship,
he's not one of them.
Legolas Greenleaf of the Woodland realm,
son of King Thranduil, Prince of Mirkwood,
and master of squinting pensively into the distance--
everyone's favorite elven Archer possesses
many complicated titles with their own equally complicated
backstories.
He is tied to a deep history written into the lore of Middle
Earth, and yet his character across all
of "The Lord of the Rings" movies
is stretched and thin, like a butter
scraped over too much bread.
Considering Jackson's trilogy is widely regarded
as a masterpiece, it may be difficult to find fault
in them.
But even outstanding works like "The Lord of the Rings"
have room for improvement.
And Legolas' extreme physical prowess,
the bulking of his more jovial personality from the books,
and the lack of real development make
for one of the weakest points in the entire movie franchise.
When Tolkien wrote The Lord of the Rings,
he ended up establishing a new baseline
for elves in high fantasy.
Long living elves who are fleet of foot, live in forests,
and distrust other races may seem like an all too common
trope today, but in 1954, this was
fairly new ground Tolkien was lightly trotting on.
All that Legolas is in the movies comes back
to Tolkien's original vision.
But in the almost 50 years between the book's publication
and the first Lord of the Rings movie,
audiences had plenty of time to familiarize themselves
with similar characters from other properties.
When Legolas shows up in 2001's "Fellowship of the Ring"
doing something like this, it's undeniably cool,
but it isn't novel the way it had been when Tolkien first
conceived the character, especially considering
Aragorn is right there with him keeping pace.
The movies had to find a way to differentiate Legolas
from the other skilled warriors of the fellowship.
So, Jackson stepped up the elven action
to make it more impressive.
This, along with Jackson's action-oriented style,
is why we got the shield surfing moment
in Helm's Deep in two towers and the Oliphant Takedown
in "Return of the King."
Legolas!
Two already.
I'm on 17.
Huh?
No longer is Legolas a competent elf
who honed his craft over hundreds of years of practice.
He's a superhero capable of impossible
feats of strength, accuracy, and balance.
He's a one man army that puts even the other elves to shame.
Even though some of these shots make
for more memorable visuals, they ultimately
detract from the experience.
What are meant to be serious battle scenes
become comical opportunities to see superpowers
on display and for no other reason
than to remind us that Legolas is cool.
That still only counts as one.
This idea is elevated to insane levels of self-parody
in "The Hobbit" movies.
Unlike in "The Lord of the Rings," these sorts of scenes
are often tied inextricably to the plot
rather than being exciting little detours
during important moments.
What's worse is that Legolas had no business being
in "The Hobbit" movies to begin with,
which makes these death defying stunts all the more
unnecessary.
The problem is, outside of his combat expertise,
what does Legolas actually bring to the story?
The answer to that is he brings virtually nothing.
That's a glaring issue in "The Hobbit" movies,
but it was also present during "The Lord of the Rings"
trilogy.
Orlando Bloom's performance as the elven prince
has long been a point of contention amongst fans.
To give the then 24-year-old actor his due,
he didn't have much to work with.
As written in the movies, Legolas has very little
in the way of a personality.
In the books, he is often portrayed
as a light hearted jokester who playfully taunts
the other members of the fellowship
and offers up songs of joy or lament when the need arises.
In the movies, particularly the theatrical cuts,
Legolas is a staunchly emotionless rock
for most of his screen time, just
like the rest of the elves.
Even in the scenes which are meant
to be his most passionate, he says every line
with the same bored tone.
Forgive me.
I was wrong to despair.
The extended editions add several scenes which give him
moments of much needed levity, but they are few and far
between and don't really do much to make
it feel like Legolas is anything other than an ancient being
who's tired and just trying to get a job done.
43.
He was already dead.
He was twitching.
Even more dire than his lack of personality
is his lack of any form of character development.
The only trait Legolas has which he gets to overcome
is his hatred of dwarves.
It's true that the exchange between him
and Gimli in "Return of the King"
will forever bring a tear to our eyes.
Never thought I'd die fighting side by side with an elf.
What about side by side with a friend?
His growing fondness for Gimli is heartwarming,
and it serves as a reminder of what this fellowship could mean
for the future-- that being stronger
bonds between the races of Middle Earth
and a new era of peace.
But a single friendship between an elf and a dwarf
does not make up for ages of resentment, and even if it did,
Gimli's relationship with Galadriel
fulfills a similar role.
The same can be said for Legolas admiration
towards Aragorn, which, on the surface,
looks like a pretty straightforward echo
of his friendship with Gimli.
Over the course of three movies, you'd
expect Legolas to become more devoted to the future king
or maybe even doubt him.
But he was already a loyal friend
at the start of their journey, and any conflict between them
is fleeting.
The true mark of the elves' acceptance of Aragorn
comes from the relationship between him
and Elrond, which Legolas has no part in.
For the most part, the rest of the fellowship
takes a much more active role in the story.
Boromir shows us the esoteric power of the ring
and completes his own self-sacrificing arc.
Aragorn smooths political tensions,
finds the kingly resolve to lead armies,
and is finally installed on the throne with Arwen at his side.
Frodo inspires the others and carries the ring.
Sam carries the entire operation.
And Gandalf?
Well, he's Gandalf.
Even Merry and Pippin orchestrate the Last March
of the Ents.
Legolas and, to a lesser extent, Gimli makes a friend.
But even Gimli got to ruminate on the loss of his kinsmen
in the mines of Moria and charmed the Lady of the Woods
with a humble yet significant request
or a strand of her hair.
What was her gift?
I asked her for one hair from her golden head.
Other than taking down enemies with aforementioned super
strength and skill, Legolas is practically useless.
He's so useless that they resort to making him an exposition
machine in order to give him a few additional lines.
They're taking the Hobbits to Isengard!
It doesn't help that a lot of Legolas most important beats
in the books happen in the appendices
of The Return of the King, and we saw next to none of it
in the movies.
Considering the direct impact many of the other characters
had on the story of "Lord of the Rings,"
Legolas' contributions seem almost laughable by comparison.
But it didn't have to be this way.
"The Lord of the Rings" movies took liberties
with several characters from the books.
The screenplays written by Jackson, Fran Walsh,
and Philippa Boyens were intended
to make the story fit a more traditional Hollywood
structure.
Aragorn was given a self-defeating attitude
to overcome, and Glorfindel was removed from the plot
to strengthen Arwen's character.
A wedge was driven between Frodo and Sam
for some extra dramatic tension, and some characters
were erased entirely to make room
for growth in our main cast.
Whether all those changes were for the better
is up to the individual viewer.
However, they help to illustrate the point.
Legolas could have been given more time and attention.
There was an attempt to do this in "The Hobbit" trilogy, where
they gave him a terrible love triangle plotline.
But again, Legolas shouldn't have been there.
The most obvious way "The Lord of the Rings" movies
could have developed Legolas is through his relationship
with Aragorn.
Had Legolas shown any level of distrust or doubt
in Aragorn before their argument in the Battle of Rohan,
Legolas' apology would have been more poignant.
It would have shown Legolas to be an imperfect and skeptical
person who needed to learn to put his hope
and faith into his friend.
Alternatively, he could have wrestled with his own legacy
as the Son of Thranduil and come to terms
with what responsibilities he may
have to take on after the war.
If he willingly took those responsibilities on,
he could have been an example to Aragorn.
Instead, Legolas befriends a dwarf and kills a lot of orcs.
It's a testament to how incredible
the movies are that despite the hollowness of one
of their main characters, they're
still incredible works of art.
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