Dwarf Renaissance

Of the many hundreds of thousands of topics I have carefully laid out over years of consideration and research (and the subsequently forgotten about entirely), one of the more recent was the matter of originality in the genre of fantasy. I approached it from numerous angles, tried to tackle differing aspects of it…and I have failed in every attempt to write that post to my satisfaction.

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.