The Lord of the Rings is like a rich old uncle who periodically reappears in your life to announce his latest triumph or name-drop his famous friends. It was the epic bedtime story that thrilled you as a kid, then the billion-dollar movie franchise that came to dominate the early Noughties. Now the trilogy is back, celebrating its 25th anniversary with the theatrical release of an “extended edition” that was already available on home video to begin with. So The Lord of the Rings is basically the same as it ever was: a solid entertainment banker, a saga to set your watches by. What has changed is the fanbase. It has grown louder and weirder and a whole lot less edifying.
“Speak friend and enter,” reads the riddle that opens the gates of Moria. This essentially means that if you can say you’re a friend, you’re allowed free run of the house – and never mind that Moria’s self-proclaimed friends might not necessarily be friends with one another, just as all Tolkien fans aren’t always on the same page. It was inside Moria, for instance, that the disputatious Boromir began to wonder just what kind of Fellowship he was a part of, and how much he really had in common with an elf, a dwarf and a bunch of hobbits anyway. I’m feeling a similar sense of estrangement when it comes to The Lord of the Rings’ current crop of high-profile pals.
