A lesson on integrity, derived from things
Because magical possessions and enchanted rings aren’t just for Middle Earth
Christmas. A time of togetherness, a time to feast, to fete, to forgive. To indulge in old films, blast out the festive playlist and slather another mince pie in clotted cream.
As lovely as that is, the other side of Christmas is ever-present too… Order stuff. Wait endlessly in queues at the sorting office because you missed the delivery. Rush round the shops. Battle through the town centre. Spend, spend, spend till you drop.
Not such a pretty picture, eh? But before you cast a disapproving glance in the direction of the third pair of novelty socks you were gifted, wait a second!
This year, Christmas presents I received long ago took on a whole new meaning. They showed me that the shower of stuff that descends in December, aren’t just things to clog up the house.
Sometimes, those things take on a different meaning.
For this, we’re heading back to my formative years, with a tour through Middle Earth.
It starts in the Shire…
In the early noughties, the world went Hobbit-mad as Peter Jackson’s adaptation of The Lord of the Rings trilogy created a cinematic juggernaut that built year on year. I too was caught in this Shire-fever. Each Christmas, a family trip to the cinema on Christmas Eve to see the latest release would kick off the festivities. And for three years on the bounce, there was only one thing at the top of my list: the extended edition of the most recent instalment.
I’d peel back the wrapping paper on Christmas morning, gleefully beholding the rich, earth-toned packaging. The gold lettering glistened; the silver discs enclosed promised treasures yet unseen.
What was it about those films? Why did they capture the hearts and minds of a generation – of many generations? The storytelling... the cinematography… the characters… the joy of a difficult text rendered accessible… the landscape… the timelessness of it. A mixture of all the reasons above, I think.
The forming of the fellowship
Whatever it was that caught my imagination caught other peoples’ too. My friends were all obsessed – not necessarily the pals I had at the time, but my found friends, the ones I chose later on. The best kind of friends. The kind that sticks around. We bonded over a shared love of those films, grinned with glee in the way that only a bright-eyed bunch of kids can when they discover a shared interest.
Sitting in the pub over the Christmas break, reconnecting with those friends, the subject of the trilogy arose again. It stirred that same flicker of joy in the eyes and the same dreamy, glazed look.
With some pride, one of my friends told me an interesting fact about the films.
‘Did you know,’ he said, ‘that the extended versions have never been released to streaming services? You can’t watch them anywhere else, but on the DVDs.’
‘Really?!’ Despite the gargantuan run time and the copious amounts of bonus material, I was surprised by this nugget of information.
A factual indiscretion; a serving of food for thought
A quick Google search tells me that the above statement isn’t wholly correct. In certain regions, the extended versions of The Two Towers and The Return of the King films have been available to stream. But it does appear that the bonus material has never been released beyond the DVD editions. So by that measure, I guess it’s kinda, sorta true.
While my friend’s assertion may not stand up in court, it got me thinking. About the value of things: not in the sense of their market worth, but the pleasure of possessions. The joy they bring, beyond the physical ownership of them. Even beyond the joy of using them, admiring them or watching them over and over.
The exclusivity of that bonus content – the hours of appendices – brings a whole different meaning to owning the DVDs. Those DVDs have created a kind of club, a membership only the most devoted are a part of. Because, let’s face – you’d have to be pretty darn dedicated to buy all that extra content, let alone spend the time watching it!
Of course, in reality there are the cold legalities of licensing rights per territory and individual distributors, not to mention millions of dollars at stake. But let us cast aside our cynicism in the spirit of the festive seasons! Let us believe that the only reason that content has never been released is for the fans.
Never having had any personal claims whatsoever to the notion of cool, I was excited. Damn it, I felt cool! I felt like I was part of a community when I learned that the content of those discs wasn’t readily available. I felt closer to my friends, I felt pleased with the remarkably good taste of my childhood self. I was delighted to be the owner of the discs and silently thanked my inability to let anything go; it had saved me, inadvertently, from the grave mistake of selling my old DVDs to Music Magpie or the like.
Possession is an extension of creation
It got me thinking about some of the things I hold most dear. Many of them have some kind of creative streak running through them – be it a handmade Christmas decoration from a friend, a jigsaw I made in my GCSE woodworking class, or the first LP I ever bought. All of them have some kind of story. And while the vinyl may have been pressed en masse, the music within contains the creative output someone sweated over, just like the others.
Perhaps that’s why the LOTR trilogy is so beloved. Because you can see the love and joy and attention to detail in every frame. And it’s a pleasure to own a slice of that creation.
How wonderful it is, then, to make something! To share your highest vision with the world, with the people who love your work. How exciting to connect with fans in the form of a DVD, long before streaming was a thing. And how remarkable to maintain the link you have with the fans, when streaming comes along and changes everything; it’s hard to conceive of in this digital-first world we live in.
It makes the thing useful. It gives it a use by date that outlasts its commodity rivals. It elevates it from being a simple possession and makes it more than a piece of Christmas stuff received long ago.
Now that, is very cool.
Integrity and art: bound together
If the joy of possessing something is that it allows you to hold a slice of the creative vision in your hands, then the best thing about the exclusiveness of the extended editions, is that they preserve the integrity of the original idea.
Reportedly, Peter Jackson has stated a preference for the theatrical versions of the films over the extended editions. They’re too long, perhaps. Maybe the intention with refusing to release bonus content for streaming was simply to avoid boring the uninitiated to tears.
But for those who love the films, who adore the timeless story, who admire Tolkien’s painstaking creation of a fictional universe, the extended editions add a wealth of enjoyment that’s missing if you happen to catch one of the theatrical films on television. The added scenes. The richer plot details. The interviews, the ‘how it was made’ documentary footage. All of it adds up to create something bigger than itself.
For the fans, this refusal to water down the product is a godsend. It keeps that unspoken club alive. It preserves the integrity of Jackson’s own meticulous work.
And as a fan, what else can you ask for?
“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.” – So make something…
What thing can you leave in the world?
Can you create something? Or a version of something that doesn’t go up on Amazon, or social media? Something that’s only available to the people who really appreciate what you do – not the internet at large?
And more broadly, what decisions can you take to preserve the integrity of your work? To hold your customers, clients, fans, in their special spot? In not streaming everything to do with the films, Jackson honours his fans, intentionally or otherwise. That decision upholds the sense of community, the atmosphere that surrounds the cult film, that moment in time. It’s not about deciding to hold off streaming. It’s about deciding to tap into something bigger.
What are your intentions? How can your decisions affect your intentions – and vice versa?
You have a choice. Whatever you choose now, your decision shapes the future as well as the present.
Just as those Christmas presents shaped my thinking, nearly two decades on.
All that is gold does not glitter
As you look around at the detritus of the festive season, keep your eyes peeled for what really matters. What small gift will be treasured in years to come? Choose wisely. You might be glad one day that you didn’t re-gift the unassuming pressie that appears to be obsolete, tat, not much use.
Not all presents are mindless consumerism. Peter Jackson’s films have created a legacy, the DVDs have built a community. They are almost an exact opposite of the story they tell: The One Ring is an object of fear, an enslaver, an enabler of hateful deeds. The extended discs are things – rings in and of themselves, in a way. And yet, they don’t divide. They unite. They don’t spread malcontent. They delight. They don’t seek to overpower anyone or anything – they simply are. Doing their own thing, flying a banner quietly in the corner for those who want to gather under it, without most people’s noticing.
In a word, integrity.
Wishing you a wonderful start to 2022. I hope that whatever you create next year, whenever you enjoy something that someone else has made, that you do so with the biggest grin and the gladdest heart. Happy New Year.
Your words matter,
Laura
P.S. New episode of The Ordinary Extra podcast!
I’m excited to share this latest edition with you, where I speak to Natasha Bye about the unlikely combination of comedy and teamwork. If you’re feeling a bit dull and drab after too much food and indulgence, this is the perfect antidote. Natasha is a self-confessed yes-woman, grabbing any opportunity she can – her enthusiasm is sure to blow the cobwebs out.
Listen here or search ‘The Ordinary Extra’ wherever you get your podcasts.
I hope you enjoy!