Anton Chekhov famously said that, if a writer puts a loaded rifle on the mantle in the first act, the gun must fire by the end of the third. Battle of the Five Armies is the third act of The Hobbit trilogy, so its job is to fire all the guns set up by An Unexpected Journey and The Desolation of Smaug. The Dwarves finally secure their home in Mount Erebor, finishing the quest that began the series. The Elvish king who refused to help the Dwarves when Smaug attacked them comes back, still claiming that the Dwarves hold a treasure rightfully his. Azog, the Orc leader who wants to kill all the descendants of the ancient Dwarvish king, gets his chance in battle. And all the corners of the love triangle among star-crossed Elves and Dwarves come together.
True to its name, this is a movie of battles. The loaded rifles going off are more like tanks blazing away. It begins with the dragon Smaug’s fire-from-above attack on Laketown, then most of the movie is consumed with setting up the big battle, the armies marching, entrenching, choosing sides and tactics. The big battle plays out in the final third of the film. Peter Jackson, who has made all the Lord of the Rings and Hobbit movies, excels in these scenes. Better than any director since Kurosawa, he uses the build-up to show us the geography of the battleground and the assets of the combatants while simultaneously underlining everyone’s motivations. This careful set-up pays off in the battle itself, as we have a general’s perspective on the armies’ movements as well as the heroes’ experience of immediate, hand-to-hand combat.
And the best scene in the film is another battle, another loaded gun that must go off. The Desolation of Smaug left the wizard Gandalf trapped by the resurgent Sauron in an abandoned fortress. So one of the first orders of business now is to rescue him. Three great, good powers arrive to save Gandalf and have to battle Sauron and his soldiers to do it. In Tolkien’s original novels, this scene was just a line narrating the outcome, and I’ve been looking forward to seeing the scene played out. As the others battle with the soldiers, Lady Galadriel calls upon all her power to challenge Sauron and banish him. She does this, interestingly, by speaking truth, unmasking the lies he hides behind.
That scene, more than any other, sets up the conflict that drives The Lord of the Rings: Sauron’s trying to conquer the world, everyone else is trying to stop him. One weakness of Battle of the Five Armies, and all the Hobbit movies, is the lack of such an all-encompassing motivation. In fact, Jackson and his team try to steal gravity from the other films by making Smaug a potential ally for Sauron, and Erebor a coveted base. But the Dwarves are just trying to regain their homeland. They are unaware of these larger ramifications, and the suggestion of some even-greater meaning that only Gandalf knows saps the simple nobility of their quest.
The greatest weakness of the film, though, is the deus ex machina rescue at the end of the final battle. I won’t spoil the ending, but if you’ve had the thought while watching the Middle-Earth films, “If those visitors are so strong and able, why didn’t they just call for their help from the very beginning?” you’ll think that thought again.
The Lord of the Rings series was, among other things, a meditation on the lure of power. Sauron wants the one ring because of the power it will give him, and everyone who might hold the ring knows that they too would misuse its power and become like Sauron. Frodo and Sam bear the ring because, somehow, power won’t corrupt them.
These Hobbit movies, especially this one, are a similar meditation on the lure of wealth. King Thorin’s predecessors were driven mad by the gold they hoarded; once Thorin regains the treasure, the same madness descends upon him. He distrusts his closest friends, and he refuses to help hundreds of needy people. He particularly seeks the Arkenstone, the gem-emblem that will confer his rightful royalty when he finds it. Bilbo, whose pocket seems to find all the most powerful talismans in Middle-Earth, hides the stone because he sees the damage it does to Thorin. Then he gives it up freely to Thorin’s rivals, despite its worth, to make a peace-offering to Thorin. Like the other Hobbits with the ring, he is somehow unaffected by the greed it inspires in others. (Interestingly, Bilbo does this as he simultaneously succumbs to the lure of the ring.)
The dynamic among Bilbo, Thorin and the wealth of Mount Erebor offers an excellent illustration of one of the primary gospel truths about wealth. We can horde our wealth for our own worldly satisfaction, like Thorin or the rich fool of Luke 12, or we can use it to forge friendships that will save us, like Bilbo or the dishonest steward of Luke 16. “You cannot serve God and wealth.”
The inevitable question about Battle of the Five Armies is one of comparison. How does it stack up next to the Lord of the Rings films? Unfortunately, not very well. Though it surpasses the first two Hobbit movies, partly because of the advantage of being the conclusion and thus more satisfying, it still doesn’t approach the heights of the other trilogy. The Fellowship of the Ring was a far more compelling company than this group of Dwarves. And the Middle-Earth of 40 years after this story, with all its added darkness and decay, turns out to be a much more interesting place to visit.
You might also find these reviews of The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies helpful:
Christ and Pop Culture
Christianity Today
Decent Films
Hollywood Jesus
Larsen on Film
Reel Gospel