I remember spending hours waiting for the new trailer for The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Rings to download on my parents' home computer (yes, those were back in the days of DSL). I almost drooled as the camera swept over the River Anduin up to the great Argonath. It was the greatest thing I'd ever seen. I watched that trailer again and again and again until someone in my family made me sign off the internet so they could use the phone (remember when we had to do that?).
When The Fellowship of the Ring came out in theaters, I saw it at least five times. I loved every moment of it. And when the extended edition version came out, I loved it even more.
Every aspect of the film spoke to me. The beautiful scenery, the wonderful characters, as well as the attention to detail – the great love and care – that some artisan or craftsman had carefully tended to and made sure it supported the world of the story. I knew it was worthy of my attention, and boy did I ever give it that attention.
I mean, I didn't go so far as to teach myself elvish or buy a pair of pointy ears or anything, but you get this picture—I was obsessed.
So you can imagine my excitement when The Two Towers was about to come out. I was so ready to return to Middle Earth, and I was not disappointed. The second film might even be better than the first. There's so much good stuff in it. King Theoden. The Battle of Helms Deep. Gollum. The Ents. The Battle of Helms Deep. . . I loved nearly every minute of it.
Nearly.
If I'm honest, though, there is one moment in the second film that didn't work for me. One moment that always gets to me. Like nails on a chalkboard, when it comes on screen during one of the half dozen times I rewatch the films each year, I cringe.
Do you know what moment I'm talking about? Any guesses?
It's this one:
Do you guys feel that? Do you know what's bothering me about this line of dialogue? Do you know what's wrong with it?
It's just one word, really. Maybe two. But mostly, it's "menu."
I'm shuddering now just thinking about it.
If you're wondering why this word bothers me, let me first take a moment to explain that J. R. R. Tolkien created Middle Earth first and foremost out of his love for language. Tolkien was a philologist, someone who studies the history of language, and Tolkien's love of language, especially the history of language, provided the creative foundation of Middle Earth.
And remember it was the great attention to detail, the care the filmmakers put into getting every aspect of Middle Earth just right, that guided my love for that world.
So the appearance of the word "menu" in The Lord of the Rings rankles me. That word does not belong in Middle Earth. Can you imagine an elf ever asking to see one? Or a hobbit? Does it feel wrong to you?
The fancy word for this is anachronism. The word comes from Greek, meaning "against time," and can be used to describe any detail in a story that is incorrect for its time. It can be a technology, custom, or turn of phrase, but when writers get these details wrong – or when audiences think they get them wrong – it can break the spell. And storytelling certainly is casting a spell on an audience. They have to believe in the world we're taking them to, it has to feel authentic and real, and the word "menu" always felt inauthentic. Even before I looked up the word's etymology (and it wasn't used until the 18th Century France), it always felt wrong to me. If it turned out that the word menu did indeed have deep, old English roots and had been used by the author of Beowulf and his ilk, something is still off about hearing an orc use it.
Menus imply choice. If your world or culture has a menu, they have an offering of food that people can choose from, and I don't imagine the Orcs do this. I don't buy it. I don't believe it. Not in comparison to everything else I know about their world.
That's why that detail sticks out to me. Considering how foundational language was to the Lord of the Rings, I'm really surprised it managed to slip through the cracks. But something doesn't have to be perfect for me to love it, and I still love The Two Towers all the same.
For more information on anachronisms in film and television, check out these resources:
Montclair SocioBlog's The Marvelous Mrs. Anachronistic
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