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Théoden and breaking the spell

Bernard Hill’s most famous role sheds light on where humanity needs to be.

Theodore is author of the historical fiction series The Wanderer Chronicles.

A movie scene of a king and prince walking confidently.
Bernard Hill, middle, in The Lord of the Rings.
New Line Cinema.

Recently we saw the sad passing of Bernard Hill, one of the great British actors of his generation, whose career enjoyed many high points. Hill came to prominence, in Britain at least, in the 1980s with his role as an unemployed tarmac-layer in the BBC series Boys From the Blackstuff. Through the 1990s, he went on to star in a number of big budget Hollywood feature films, such as The Ghost and The Darkness, Titanic, and The Scorpion King. But his best-known role, the one which won him global recognition, was as King Théoden in Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings trilogy. 

In both Tolkien’s book and Jackson’s adaptation, the character of King Théoden plays a pivotal role in making a stand against the forces of evil advancing under the banners of first the wizard Saruman the White in The Two Towers, and then the Dark Lord Sauron himself in The Return of the King, the trilogy’s climax. 

Théoden’s character arc is as heroic as any in Tolkien’s epic. But perhaps the most memorable moment within it comes when he is first introduced. Gandalf comes to Théoden’s hall of Edoras to rally support against Saruman’s rampaging armies of orcs. But instead of a redoubtable king and ally in the fight against their common enemy, he finds a weak man buckled under the weight of old age and infirmity, cowed by fear and indecision, and enthralled to the counsel of Grima Wormtongue - whom Gandalf reveals to be an agent of Saruman. 

In Jackson’s version, Gandalf ‘delivers’ Théoden from his enthrallment, in effect breaking the spell of inertia and inaction which Saruman, through his minion Wormtongue, has cast over him. Théoden awakes from his bondage, is physically rejuvenated, and is now able to rise and take his proper place in the battleline against Sauron’s evil power. In Tolkien’s version, Théoden has more agency. He chooses, at last, to throw off the counsel of Wormtongue and cling to the slim thread of hope which Gandalf represents, however desperate it may seem. 

It is a powerful image, and one from which we can and must learn today.  

Our ears are open to so many voices through both mainstream and social media that it becomes a matter of extreme importance to be able to discern who is Gandalf and who is Grima Wormtongue?

Few would deny that recent times have revealed new and determined manifestations of evil in our culture and our world. And yet, both inside and outside the church, these latter years have also been characterised by a feeling of helplessness and inaction in the face of such evil. It’s common to hear both men and women complain that they feel unable to speak up in opposition to what they perceive as wrong. They have been silenced. Either those who dare to speak up find themselves cancelled. Or else those who don't self-censor, keeping their mouths shut and their heads well below the parapet. Like Théoden, they lock themselves away in their hall. In this latter case, the battle is ceded without ever having drawn a sword. 

As the famous Edmund Burke quote goes: ‘The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.’ Much of the church, some might dare to say most of it, resides in this place of cowed inaction. Enthralled and confused by the Wormtongue whisperings of the media as mouthpieces for agendas diametrically opposed to the good, we have willingly subjected ourselves to this spell. And the consequence? Like the Westfold of Rohan, the land is burning. 

It is not controversial to say anyone who cares about our culture and its future needs to awaken from their slumber. Needs to cast off - or else have cast out - the gag of silence. But what is more troubling perhaps is that, even having done that, we cannot agree on what is evil and what is good. 

In the Bible, the devil is portrayed as often masquerading as an angel of light. And it warns against the descent of some cultures into a state of such moral confusion that God’s ordinances are inverted: good is called evil, and evil is called good.  

So how are we to navigate our way through this mire of uncertainty? Warnings against misinformation and disinformation abound. And yet, those in positions of power who proclaim them may equally be charged with propagating untruths and dissembling realities, all for the sake of shoring up their own power structures.  

All this is to say - our ears are open to so many voices through both mainstream and social media that it becomes a matter of extreme importance to be able to discern who is Gandalf and who is Grima Wormtongue? 

Tolkien’s choice of the name Grima Wormtongue is significant. ‘Grima’ derives from the Old Norse word, grímr which means ‘mask’. ‘Worm’ similarly derives from another Old Norse word: ormr which means ‘snake’ or ‘serpent’.  

As such, it throws us right back into the Garden of Eden and the honeyed words of the serpent which led humanity into such disaster, offering some purported good up front, while concealing the calamity (and shame) which comes hard on its heels. If we are to stand up and contest the modern manifestations of evil, we must be able to recognise the side of the field of battle on which to take our stand. 

Who is Gandalf? In Tolkien’s world, though he hated the idea of his work being interpreted as allegory, Gandalf does represent the Christ figure. And Sauron in turn suggests the Anti-Christ - a nebulous figure arising from scripture, poorly understood at the best of times. But somehow the fountainhead from which, humanity is told, all evil must flow. 

But if humanity thinks of Christ on the side of good, and Christ as the most human of us all, perhaps this provides a yardstick by which we can discern the lines of battle.  

Is it human or anti-human to stand up for life at its most vulnerable? Is it human or anti-human to stand up for the family unit? Is it human or anti-human to honour and celebrate each and every Imago Dei as they were created to be? Is it human or anti-human to safeguard a parent’s right to speak good into their children’s life? Is it human or anti-human to preserve the innocence of our young? Is it human or anti-human to challenge systems of power which enable all kinds of exploitation and other self-evident evils? 

First we must awaken. Then we must choose our side. And finally, like Théoden, we must ride to the fight. 

 

Visit Theodore's web site, and follow him on Instagram and X.   

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Film & TV
5 min read

Deceit is integral to success in Destination X

Travel and trickery make for a miserable journey
A composite images show a map of Europe with Destination X contestants pictures above.
BBC.

Like me, you may have recently been watching Destination X, where 13 contestants compete to win £100,000 by guessing where the coach they are travelling on has stopped. Blocked from seeing out of the windows and given just a few clues to their locations, the contestants have to work out where they are. Similar to Traitors, it tries to give reality TV a respectability while also providing the gossipy drama that underpins the format.  

Opportunities for extra clues are possible, with contestants competing against each other to receive them. Only some of the competitors are allowed to view the extra clues. This secret knowledge quickly causes thirteen pretty nice contestants to mistrust, lie, suspect, accuse, and keep secrets. After three new players are added in, there is a clear divide between the ‘OGs’ and the rest. It reminded me of Lord of the Flies, with alliances, rivalries, and judgements of player’s usefulness taking scarily little time to flourish. 

The breaking of societal expectations to be truthful, reliable, and work for the common good is perhaps the appeal of these shows. The Judeo-Christian Ten Commandments still underpin the Western world, and lying, greed, and selfishness are all still denounced as wrong by mainstream ethics. There is an enormous amount of talk in Destination X, as there is in the Traitors, about ‘playing the game;’ legitimising breaking normal behaviour in order to win the competition. We watch on, enjoying the chance to wonder how we would manage in a world where lying, cheating, and manipulating is expected and encouraged by the rules of the game. 

The thing is, breaking these rules seems to make everybody so miserable. In the first episode, Deborah won a big clue, chose only to share it with one teammate, and was so burdened by the guilty secret that she lost the first location test and left the game immediately. In another episode, some OGs win a challenge and choose to deliberately misinform the others, including the rest of their gang. When the disinformation is revealed, and directly causes the exit of another OG, the sense of guilt as others realise the deception is plain to the viewer. Time after time, players begrudge ‘the game’ for the lies they are telling- but it is their own decision to keep the secrets to themselves. 

Perhaps the most striking thing is how quickly people lose track of the artifice of the game, and how integral to their reality their deceit has become. Towards the end of the series, as the money gets closer, the contestants harden further towards each other, and deception seems to come more easily. Perhaps this is why the guilt makes them miserable- with a little encouragement, their sense of right or wrong has disintegrated into instinct for survival. 

The people that seem to be having the best time on Destination X are Daren and Claire, perhaps the two players who are happy to trust their colleagues the most, and lie to them the least. Both of them do better in the competition than other contestants who embrace a selfish and cynical approach. 

Obviously these shows are games, and the contestants exit to their normal lives and resume being nice people. But they reveal a deeper truth that living cynically does not make a person happy. Although lying, cheating, and making the most of advantages might bring wealth, success, power, fame, and so on, living selfishly only makes a person miserable.  

People who lie or cheat may seem to get ahead, but it only poisons their heart. 

This reveals our design as humans to be communal, selfless beings. Describing the state of humanity before evil entered the world, the first verses of the book of Genesis describe a generous care between the first humans and their world. The very first books of the law in the Old Testament continually exhort God’s people to show love to their neighbour and compassion upon foreigners and the poor. 

Jesus used to have this great phrase for those who would follow his teaching for a selfless life. He said that they would inherit ‘life to the full,’ or ‘life that is truly living.’ It was his conviction that simple acts like telling the truth, desiring others to prosper, and being generous were the way to a content and satisfied life.  

But the kicker in Jesus’ teaching was not just that the person would receive a more satisfied life, but that each act would make the person more Godly. These acts stack together- to make a life of generosity rather than selfishness that nourishes our humanity- but also to form us towards being a better human. It creates a virtuous circle. A good act leads to a purer heart which leads to another good act. St Paul terms this ‘going from glory to glory’ in one of his letters encouraging a congregation to do just so. This circle deepens the contentment in the ‘life that is truly living’ that Jesus promises- living as God created humans to do reaps the relational, communal satisfaction that God intended the human experience to contain. 

It works the other way too. People who lie or cheat may seem to get ahead, but it only poisons their heart. Becoming de-sensitised to their acts, further selfishness follows. Each act separates them further from the human experience they were designed to enjoy, and dissatisfaction follows. Often this is exacerbated by more attempts to cover the feeling with selfish ambition. 

People who treat the real world like competitors treat Destination X, as a game to be won, with prizes that come at the cost of disinheriting others, may find wealth or power. But they will not find the contentment of life to the full that the way of Jesus offers and their humanity craves. 

Whilst we sit at home enjoying players’ ability to break cultural taboos and suffer the emotional consequences, we might reflect that it is better to be content than victorious- and miserable. 

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