Boromir: Sean Bean sets aside his usual
Scottish accent to provide us with a typically strong performance as the
heir-apparent to the Steward’s “throne” of Gondor. Throughout his portrayal and
through the occasional flashback, we are treated to an excellent tapestry of a
complex and nuanced character who is torn in mind and heart over the best
course of action for his people. Bean’s extensive resume and familiarity with
classical stage work is once again the key to his powerful delivery, and his
critical interaction with the Ring is one of the primary elements driving the
FOTR film.
At first
glance, Bean’s performance may seem over-the-top or perhaps a bit bipolar –
from the very beginning we see him address Aragorn in a friendly manner and
hold the shards of Narsil with their proper reverence, only to suddenly see his
face turn dour as he declares the relics “nothing more than a broken heirloom,”
before ignominiously discarding them and stumping off. Later, we see Boromir
bravely battle through the Mines of Moria only to lose heart in the woods of
Lothlorien. Finally, there’s the famous back-and-forth with Frodo that nearly ends
in his slaying of the Ring-bearer, but of course culminates in his own untimely
death. This seesaw of emotions, purposes, and tactics could easily become
wearisome or confusing for an audience and, left in the hands of a less gifted
actor, it may well have done. But Bean guides us through each of these moments
with skill, and we are left to ponder the implications of the lessons Tolkien
bequeaths to us through the character.
In the first
example, we are crucially introduced to Boromir as he explores Rivendell,
clearly feeling somewhat out of place there. His encounter with Aragorn and
Narsil is used as our first glimpse of this proud, strong-willed Man of the
South, and the seemingly abrupt turn in emotions we witness is an important
insight into the man’s character. Our first impression is one of a polite
person with a proper amount of respect for history (at least his own country’s
history, however distant). Boromir’s awe turns to something resembling scorn,
however, and it may not immediately be clear why, but at this point we become
aware of competing forces within this man, and we’re interested to learn more.
The genesis, of course, is Boromir’s documented desire to rule Gondor as its
rightful king, as in the Appendices he challenges Denethor, asking how many
generations must pass before the Stewards (and himself, by extension) should be
hailed as monarchs. His father rightly responds that, in realms of lesser
lineage, perhaps only a few lives of Men would be sufficient for such a change
of course, but in the remnants of Numenor no passage of time would do. We get a
taste of this attitude in Bean’s first moments on-screen as he tosses Narsil
aside, but we also saw his appreciation for what it represents. The contrast
with Aragorn’s gentle replacement of the relic to its proper place, of course,
tells us something about Aragorn too, setting his reverence against Boromir’s latent
ambition. Another minute but important function of this scene is to hint at
what might be called “fantasy racism,” or the fact Boromir occasionally fails
to hide his disdain or (at the least) distrust of the other free races in
Middle-earth. This is visible by his first words to Aragorn (“You are no Elf”)
and he subsequent extension of polite greeting to him (“Then we are here on
common purpose, friend”), but later we get the impression his words are borne
at least partially out of relief at finding someone like himself in this
strange place. One finds more examples of this in the book than in the films (“For
themselves they may be right, these Elves and Half-Elves and wizards … But each
to his own kind”), but Bean and Jackson work to give us glimpses of it along
the way. It is instructive to look back once one understands all of this to
observe Bean’s acting as his character’s mind works through these thoughts and
emotions: his facial expressions may not seem very important without this
deeper understanding, but once seen in light of the full story, those moments
become full with meaning.
We see more
of Boromir’s character throughout the Council of Elrond as well. It is there
the hopelessness which plagues Boromir and allows to Ring to work its will
first becomes apparent, but we also begin to see some of the arrogance he
carries as well. His declaration that the whole of the free world is maintained
“through the blood of [my] people while your lands kept safe” is as close to an
insult as the outnumbered Boromir might be willing to muster under the
circumstances, but the implication is obvious. One might also be inclined to
see additional shadows of racial superiority here, though that is less clear.
From there we get the scene on the slopes of Caradhras where Boromor is tempted
by the Ring directly which, although not in the book, nonetheless brings a
sense of danger and urgency to the film as the Fellowship struggles against
natural forces for the time being. Boromir plays a valiant role throughout the
adventure in Moria, and this is crucial as we see this Man as a strong and
doughty warrior – a true asset to those on his side – which makes his wavering
hope and susceptibility to the Ring’s wiles all the more tragic.
While the
group passes through Lothlorien, we witness a brief scene with Aragorn which finally
explains Boromir’s Hamlet-esque mental tug-of-war. It helps to clear up some of
the earlier ambiguities and also treats us to some admirable moments of
excellent acting. I admit I had originally thought Bean’s performance to be
overdone – trying too hard to show us a mind torn between options – but I’ve
since determined that judgment to be in error. The extent of Boromir’s mental
and spiritual torment must be sufficient to properly set up his later (assumed)
willingness to murder Frodo and steal the Ring from him, and it would take some
serious force to set those actions in motion. Boromir may be an arrogant prick
at times, but he is also well-meaning, noble-hearted, and a man of his word. To
place the weights entirely on one side of the scale robs the character of its
nuance as well as its tragic elements and diminishes the drama considerably as
a result. We must, therefore, periodically see the character in a state of substantial
mental torment as he struggles with what feels right and what seems right under
the circumstances. Specifically, to struggle and fight on in pursuit of the
Quest (which he later decries as “Folly!”), or to take the route that seems
more likely to reach his goal within his lifetime: to seize the Ring –
naturally with only the best intentions in mind – and use it against the Enemy.
Such has been the downfall of many Men before him: keeping their sights set
only on their own times and not considering how the quick answer is often not
the best, and Boromir falls prey to this gambit too.
All of these
mental gymnastics reach their apex on the slopes of Amon Hen, as Boromir
commits his great sin but atones for it in short order by giving his life to
protect Merry and Pippin. Typical of a classical actor with more than his share
of Shakespeare under his belt, Bean delivers a riveting death scene where, in
soul-crushing slow motion, we watch Boromir fall to Saruman’s Orcs. Bean,
together with Jackson’s camera and Howard Shore’s orchestra, provides an
incredible tapestry of grief, valor, suffering, determination, pain, and
redemption from one shot to the next. At the end of it all, Boromir could still
despair and nearly does as he predicts (wrongly, thankfully) that his city will
come “to ruin” and “the world of Men will fall.” Yet, at the very last, we see
the Man’s noblest qualities finally win out as he turns to Aragorn in his last
hope. Whether an actor’s intuition or the director’s instruction, Bean suddenly
seizes Aragorn’s doublet, clearly a non-verbal way of saying, “You had better
do something about this, bud.” Aragorn, still finding his way through his own
mental murkiness, offers a resolved (if slightly lawerly) vow that he will not
let this come to pass. Boromir, now singularly and properly focused on the
protection and survival of his countrymen, is able to pass from this life while
essentially swearing fealty to the king-to-be; an important acknowledgement
from the Steward’s heir which was never forthcoming prior to this moment.
In Fangorn
Forest some days later, Gandalf marvels as he lays out the Providential nature
of the tragedy of Boromir’s death and its necessity in bringing the wrath of
the Ents to bear against Isengard. We are left to marvel at the power and
dignity Bean brings to his character and the vital role it plays in the
evolution of the full story. Once again, a character’s interaction with Sauron’s
Ring conveys to the audience the nature of the Enemy and, by logical extension,
the nature of what is at stake in this War. We see how strength of limb is of
little use in what is ultimately a spiritual conflict and how pride and
ambition can corrupt even the noblest among us. Through his performance as
Boromir, Bean gives us shining moments of brilliance which, along with the
source material, be mined many times over to the enlightenment of us all.
Padhric
Master of Toons
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