Yet inspiration has come anew thanks to a pair of recent
purchases. My wife bought me The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey on DVD and I bought The Hobbit: An
Unexpected Journey Chronicles, a book that contains a sampling of the
myriad conceptual and design art that went into giving the movie its look and
feel. Both of these have a strong
emphasis on dwarves, as is to be expected.
At a glance, they are your typical, ho-hum fantasy dwarves; stubborn,
irritable, miners and blacksmiths.
Upon closer examination, however, it is clear that the
dwarves of this movie extend well beyond any stereotypes or tropes. Presented for us is a people with rich
history and culture, with a unique sense of art and style and an aesthetic the
details of which are rarely, if ever, captured in film. The amount of thought and consideration put
into every piece of costume, equipment, and backdrop is staggering, and anyone
interested in working on a creative piece that delves into fantasy would do
well to pay some attention.
New life has been breathed into a race that has, in many
settings and for many consumers, grown rather stale. I don’t want to argue the movie versus the
book, mind you; I have my opinions on both and thoroughly enjoy them for
slightly differing reasons. Rather, I
would like to boldly suggest that originality is not necessarily the pinnacle
of writing or art that it is often depicted as (at least in certain aspects).
In any work of fiction or film, setting is an important
aspect. I believe this is even more so
in the realms of speculative fiction, and many a piece has been doomed by
presenting a setting so similar to what is expected in the genre that it is, in
the eyes of jaded consumers, indistinguishable from the pack. Elves, dwarves, humans – we’ve seen these
before – toss in orcs and goblins or some other monstrous race and the standard
for most fantasy has been met. Elves are
artsy and aloof and better than everyone else, dwarves are stubborn and greedy
and excellent craftsmen, and humans are…well, I suppose one of the only common
themes is that humans are whatever they need to be to fit the story.
At any rate, these preconceived notions, formed by exposure
to “mainstream” fantasy media, serve a valuable purpose: the very use of the
word elf or dwarf immediately conjures an image into one’s mind, painting a
picture without having to waste a lot of time in description. At its worst, it is simply laziness on the
part of the creator, riding on these stereotypes and thereby leaving their
world and its people hollow. But, when
used properly, they are a powerful tool to connect quickly and deeply with the
consumer.
The key, I feel, is not necessarily in utter
originality. Let’s be honest: it’s not
really possible to be entirely original.
There is no idea that any of us have that someone else hasn’t already
had, whether or not they followed through with it. The secret is not in the idea itself, but in
the presentation. In the case of dwarves
(and specifically the dwarves of Middle Earth), the stereotypes the have served
in so many cases to make dwarves boring have been expanded upon, further
explained, and down-played.
The richness of dwarf culture presented in The Hobbit turns
them into something real and gives us insight into a race that is similar to
ours, but is nonetheless not quite human.
We see, in the brief history lessons provided by Bilbo and Balin, dwarf
merchants and ladies, craftspeople of all kinds, a people who lived well and
took pride in their accomplishments. We
see, too, what was taken from them, and can mourn for all that has been lost.
It is my argument, then, that a richness of culture can make
any of these “traditional post-Tolkien modern” fantasy peoples seem new, even
when those core traits, those stereotypes, are still present. Focus on the details and the presentation, on
making a people seem real and giving them a sense of depth, and even what may have
seemed boring at the surface becomes rich and wondrous again.
This is especially true in the case of individual
characters. In the example of the film
version of The Hobbit, you have a
company of thirteen dwarves, each of whom has a unique look and (at least
implied) personality, all while maintaining a general sense of dwarfiness (or a
level of dwarfitude, whichever term you prefer). We can see that not all dwarves are dour
individuals, that though they have some common traits they are still a diverse
bunch. Just like humans.
If God is in the details, then anyone who endeavors to
create a rich, vibrant, and believable world of fantasy should heed them. Whenever we create, whether it is entirely in
our head or not, we are partaking in a small act of something like
divinity. Certainly, any work can be
bogged-down by details. I would argue
that fantasy fiction is especially susceptible to this. But the proper selection of description can
make the difference between a story that is just more of the same and one that
inspires the imagination and brings the person reading or watching into a
different world for a little while.
