“That seems a bit excessive, doesn't
it?” Bilbo Baggins mentions to a particularly rotund dwarf carrying
several large wheels of cheese through a snug hobbit hole. It's a
throwaway sight gag that plays for a quick chuckle in the first third
of the first third (not a typo) of Peter Jackson's The Hobbit,
but this insignificant moment perfectly sums up my thoughts on the
matter: a 2-hour and fifty-minute movie just for the first 100 pages of
a childrens novel? Doesn't this whole enterprise seem a bit
excessive?
Preceding the Middle Earth events
depicted in Jackson's gargantuan Lord of the Rings trilogy by
a good sixty years, The Hobbit takes its excruciating time in
setting us up for the adventures of young Bilbo Baggins (Martin
Freeman, excellent in a mostly passive role), a quiet hobbit with no
desire to stray from the cozy confines of his beloved Shire. When the
meddling but unquestionably good wizard Gandalf the Grey (commanded
once again by Sir Ian McKellan) signs Bilbo up to join a company of
raucous dwarfs on their quest to recapture their home from a
marauding dragon, he is naturally reluctant. But he is finally
persuaded, and the unexpected journey begins (a good forty minutes
into the film, mind you).
