On the eve of the first Hobbit movie, put together by the same crew responsible for the Lord of the Rings trilogy, it boggles my mind that it’s been 11 years since The Fellowship of the Ring first sailed triumphantly into theaters.
More than a decade of water has passed under the bridge. Truth is I don’t feel that different, even as I clutch in my little hands the email confirmation for my pre-purchased ticket. Sure, there’s a wedding ring on my finger and a bun in the wife’s oven, so that’s pretty different, not to mention I’m no longer living in my parents’ basement, so these are all positive things. I suppose the biggest difference is that I didn’t sign up for a midnight viewing on opening night, instead opting for a matinee showing tomorrow afternoon. Hey, there’s still a recession on, after all.
What I’m looking forward to the most when it comes to seeing the first Hobbit movie is discussing it afterwards, especially because I don’t have to abide by any Spoiler Rules. You’re going to be hard-pressed to find someone over the age of 18 who hasn’t read the novel or who’s at least seen the LOTR trilogy on DVD, though it’s kind of a sobering thought that an 18 year old now would have been only 7 years old when Fellowship of the Ring premiered in 2001. On the one hand, this makes me feel very, very old, but at the same time it fills me with exuberant glee that one day in the future, I’ll get to share all these movies all over again with my child.
And it’s not just the Tolkien books and movies that I’m looking forward to experiencing with my son or daughter; it’s the Harry Potter novels and movies, it’s the Star Wars movies (well, three of them at least), it’s classics like The Dark Crystal and Legend and The Princess Bride and all that wonderful stuff that I grew up completely mesmerized by. Hell, I’ll even suffer through having to stare at David Bowie’s codpiece just so my kid can know Labyrinth.
The only thing I worry about is whether I can get old episodes of Reading Rainbow and Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood on DVD. None of this Barney the Dinosaur or Wiggles or any of that bullshit; I can’t imagine a kid growing up not knowing LeVar Burton and Mister McFeely.
Okay, maybe not Mister McFeely. That name kind of creeps me out in retrospect. But still, you get the idea.