signs and meanings in the movies. Discuss. Using #theHobbit

Sometimes (well actually Much of the Time) we embrace serendipity. 

So when we met B for lunch and he said (most winningly with a persuasive american smile -fantastic teeth):

How about the 3.15 screening of The Hobbit on 12th and 3rd?

Caught up in the very festive nature of The season and a sort of end-of-michaelmas-term-feeling as if our steamer trunks were ready in the caretaker’s hold to be taken to the P&O liner for the cross-atlantic journey we said:

Splendid idea!

Just like that.

And then a couple of hours in we had a curious metadata/Barthesian sort of a lingering feeling (which was necessary because the film is Long and there’s So many battle scenes that one has time to recall one’s cultural theory seminars back at University of London) that there is a Lot going on beneath-the-text (that we are Not convinced Mr. P. Jackson fully understood as he was concentrating on fulfilling his tourist reel for New Zealand.)

But we noticed.

And wanted to share it with you.

So perhaps we could Discuss?


Where were the Runes?


Note in the original Text Mr. Tolkein gives careful explanation and illustrations of The Runes.

Only one (one!) appeared in the movie.

gandalf (portentously looming serena mckellen) draws a Fehu on the door to tell the company of men to gather Here(yes, not a firebrand female amongst them, just Cate, later in a grecian gown and odd ears and voice at the back of a waterfall).

Fehu, of course, is the one about the meaning of possessions.

One of which is foretold in the Ring.

In fact our friends in Eastern Lands sought to position the movie as a sequel to Raiders of The Lost Ark (we almost wrote Arc which would make it quite a different film).


You can see the similar graphic treatment, non? Right down to the fiery glowy central look Here motif.

The West, for the most part, choose to focus on the Battles and keeping Evil at Bay and the manly virtues taught in all good Boarding Schools about being Part of The Team and unquestioning Loyalty and getting the beautiful-yet-wounded-and-emotionally-stunted head of School to give you a bearhug which you play over and over in your head and nurture it into a neurosis which makes your career in the City/corporate Life soar at a later date.


But the most interesting theory is taken from Mr. Jung (the psych-philosophy-guru, not to be confused with the first husband of the author of The Fear of Flying).

Isn’t all really about the battle between one’s practical Anglo-saxon self and the shadow of the licentious and romantic and raging/fighting Celt?



It’s even in the original text (which we do like to Refer to).



That’s our take anyway.

What do you think?

And isn’t the bit with the giant female power laden birds rescuing and soaring and glorifying flight just the most Wonderful imagery?

Must visit New Zealand one day.

It looks astonishing.

Sort of the sussex downs on acid.

long black coats, a glimpse of lights flickering in the chapel and a lingering look beyond the quad.

darlings, we went to visit friends at seminary yesterday and it brought back divine (couldn’t resist) memories of the chaps’ (handful of girls from age 16 – and we were Definitely a handful) Boarding School we went to in england. Many moons ago.

As we strode across the quadrangle, our Long black coat flying out behind us in our haste (we were a Tiny bit tardy) we got a sudden sensory overload: dusk falling while rushing to chapel, Latin all afternoon on Wednesday, prefectorial gatherings, long tales from Shakespeare carefully transcribed and examined. It was overwhelming and we were almost sad. And then joyful that such a 19th century experience can be called upon in the centre of chelsea, NYC.



One more thing.

Very recently we were speaking in front of a large group of people and suddenly noticed someone Leaning forward and paying attention and smiling directly at us.

Without pausing for a beat (we Are a Pro, love), we realized it was someone (pretty famous) whom we’ve had a Crush on (in our head) for (we blush to admit) a Long While.

forgive us our superficial obsessions, but our hair was really working on that occasion.

Always delicious, the freshly conditioned slightly foxy look.


Just had to share.

The scar on our throat was impressed and impressive, in a quiet way, when the cashmere scarf was unfurled, we could tell. Mostly by The lovely surroundings. It was transporting. Literally.