![]() ![]() Is this product placement? Sean Astin, Elijah Wood and Andy ‘Gollum’ Serkis were busily squabbling here only a week ago. ![]() The water, bubbling out of a nearby pipe, is freezing, and the only sinister apparition to be found in its depths is an empty Coke can. Yet, in the interests of journalistic integrity, Empire takes a peak into the small, purpose-built marshland complete with clumps of real sedge and moss. Tolkien warns that you stare into the Dead Marshes at your peril - the long-deceased spirits of slain soldiers are likely to stare right back at you. “They pride themselves on their rock,” she boasts. The journey goes via a 30-foot rock escarpment made of industrial polystyrene. This may not exactly adhere to the copious maps that Tolkien personally provided for his books, but the publicist is keen to show off some of the backlot’s exterior sets, and there’s the opportunity for a toilet break. You can reach the Golden Hall of Edoras via the ruins of Osgiliath and the Dead Marshes. They’ve got nothing but pride in their accomplishments, and they just want to share it. The unit publicist guiding us around takes on the breathy, enthused tone of a Disneyland host: nothing is off-limits the paranoid secrecy of a Hollywood set doesn’t translate into Kiwi. While out in the real world, anticipation is boiling into a frenzy. There’s also the arrival of CGI curios Gollum and Treebeard, and the cataclysmic hellfire of the Battle Of Helm’s Deep in a narrative splintered across storylines. In The Two Towers, the story centres more on the world of men, which gives it a more realistic, historical feel - a little in the direction of Braveheart.” But it has a much different tone from Fellowship, and that’s ultimately a healthy thing. “Obviously it has the same sensibilities working for it - the same writers, director, cast, DP everything is a continuation. “It was shot at the same time as Fellowship,” says Peter Jackson later - the sheer workload tending to keep him manacled to the sound stages. Every drop of sweat is devoted to getting the new film right. So no-one is lapping up the successes of the recent past - the Oscars, the box office, or the critical acclaim. It was a hell of a kick-off, but it means nothing if this movie fails to match Fellowship’s giddy heights. It’s June 2002, and supplementary shooting - the process of ironing out the final wrinkles in the second film - is almost complete, leaving only the toil of post-production to continue apace until the December debut of The Two Towers. “Have to be on set this afternoon.” Despite the sudden tumult (and the Orcs have become quite unruly), the quartet - a weekly civility introduced by producer Barrie Osborne to salve weary brows - plays on regardless. “Hmmm, better not,” he decides, patting his stomach. “Do you recommend it?” Saruman enquires of Empire, looking suspiciously at the dish of the day, obviously mistaking your intrepid journalist for one of the catering staff. A place where anything goes, especially the chilli if you’re not quick to the queue. Welcome to Catering, Middle-earth, Miramar Studios, Wellington, New Zealand. More Orcs join their brethren, a small fellow with pointy ears and clown-sized feet wrapped in bin-liners has already got a plateful, and, as if it is the most normal thing in the world (which round here it is), Gandalf the White, Saruman the (formerly) Wise and King Théoden of Rohan saunter across to a table, waving casually to crew members. Then, as if some far-off bell has sounded, the room is suddenly engulfed with all manner of beings. Outside the rain is pouring like the end of the world. The room is, to say the least, ramshackle walls of crumbling brick decorated with ‘Elf’ vandalism reach inconclusively to the corrugated roof. At a corner table, three Orcs are deep in conversation, their gnarled heads leaning close together the ugliest of the trio (this is a thin distinction), whose nose seems to have been riveted several times, sucks idly from a carton of apple juice. Order is everywhere, a hushed expectation of the meal to come. As a prelude to luncheon, a string quartet gently evokes a touch of Bach in a minor key, tablecloths are being straightened and napkins folded, and from an adjoining room spills the aroma of food preparation. DAY ONE: picture, if you will, a scene of such refinement and tranquillity it was surely dreamed up under the porcelain gaze of Merchant and Ivory. ![]()
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