Tomorrow is the official release date of The Hobbit (part I). Until now, I’ve been feigning mild interest in the movie, with a hint of cynicism. “How nice,” I said, when I heard the movie was being made. “I hope it doesn’t suck.”
Yes, I’ve been playing it cool…being all, “I’ll see it when the crowds die down” and “Let’s wait and see what the reviews say, because you know how it is with sequels.”
But behind this cynical facade, deep in the childlike heart I keep hidden from the world*, hope and excitement have been growing. First I heard they’re getting Howard Shore to do the music. Then the announcement was made that Martin Freeman was to play Bilbo, and I thought, hey, this thing could really be good. Who better to play Bilbo Baggins than the guy who portrayed the hapless Arthur Dent so convincingly?
But I didn’t say that out loud. At least, not in public.
My burgeoning hope faltered with the announcement that The Hobbit would be three movies instead of one. “Oh, they’re just milking it for all the dollars they can get.”
You thought it, too. Admit it.
Maybe it’s true. But as long as they do a good job, do their motivations really matter? If all three movies are great, then don’t they deserve to make a dollar or two? Aren’t you excited at the prospect of having parts II and III to look forward to, just as we all looked forward to parts II and III of The Lord of the Rings?
So now that the movie is about to be released, now that I’ve seen the previews, read the interviews, and re-watched episodes of Sherlock, I am willing to admit it: I can’t wait to see this movie. In fact, if I had prosthetic hairy feet and the right wardrobe, I would dress up like a hobbit and go to tonight’s late-night showing.
*My own, not someone else’s that I keep in a jar on my desk.