Watching the DVD ... or "What a really stupid thing to do!"

That’s it. I have finally beaten my own record for “Really Stupid Things To Do”! I didn’t get to bed until some unholy hour this morning, because I was watching the DVD – again! Just the commentaries ... seriously (I am not listening to any comments about my predilection for fine sword-work, so all those who are laughing at me can just wipe those smirks off their dials - like I could wipe mine of my dial *wry grin*)

Our treat for our wedding anniversary (Boxing Day, in other words) was to take the family to see the second episode of the Lord of the Rings saga, The Two Towers. A film that we had been looking forward to all year with great anticipation, given the quality of the first episode.
The producers of these movies had announced that an extended version of the movie would be available in time for people to give them as gifts this Christmas tide, so the spousal unit and I decided that along with the tickets for the second episode, we would buy the extended first episode.
In my opinion it was definitely worth it. We watched it twice on Christmas Day and Boxing Day before the family feast thingies, and then took the parental units with us to the local movie theatre to see the next episode in the evening.

My Goodness Me!
I haven’t enjoyed the wait for a movie in ages. Not even Star Trek: The Motion Picture was up to the satisfaction of this (I think it was the plot of that one, not the acting – we will not discuss the acting of ST: TMP, thank you!). I will be able to survive this year of anticipation for the third episode of the saga, only because as we exited the theatre the spousal unit observed that the extended version of episode two was already on order and that we had yet to finish exploring the contents of the first extended version! Even the paternal unit observed that the producers of these epics were staying wonderfully close to the text, a fact that he appreciated.

The Lord of the Rings is one of those books that have influenced me since I was twelve. I know it was about my twelfth birthday that I picked it up and started reading it. Dad had a single volume paperback of it on his shelf, from whence it promptly migrated to my bookshelf and stayed there. (I think I finally gave it back just before we moved eighteen months ago – his comment was “I wondered where that had got to” as he beetled his eyebrows at me in mock surprise.) I read it at least once a year for many years, sometimes the stories, sometimes just favourite bits, sometimes just the poetry. When the spousal unit and I were still negotiating the dating thing and the ‘falling in love’ thing, we read it and The Hobbit to each other, and when the daughter turned up, the BBC radio version had reached the Plains of Rohan for the first time. We moved house just before the son turned up, but he got The Hobbit read to him when quite small … I think his first Christmas was when the spouse bought our copy of “The Father Christmas Letters” which was popular reading just before Christmas for several years.

It may be a strange thought, but the waiting for the ‘next episode’ of this movie trilogy to arrive is once again teaching me patience.
I can’t hurry its theatrical release; I can’t influence the passage of time to make the release of the video/DVD versions arrive any sooner. I can, however, consider the implications of spacing out the watching of the various commentaries on the DVDs that we do have; of reading the books slowly, limiting my consumption of its pages to my hourly bus journey home from work (I like the sound of that, may I have a lot of it this year!); of listening to the radio version (which the spousal unit purchased for our tenth anniversary) only when I have a clear weekend with no chores, family obligations or other duties to attend to; and finally finishing some of the other books that Tolkein wrote about his Middle Earth.

How strange to think that a series of books started as a means to explore ideas of language and story would create such a kafuffle in this twenty-first century into which we are sliding.