I can think of nothing better to say than "Bravo!"

Although it's inevitable that things like this get made, I just wish that somehow Professor Tolkien's favorite text could have remained unmarred. Oh well, at least he's no longer around to be pained by the depths of what we call "entertainment".

The dragon Beowulf fights at the end is his son. If you're going to talk about a movie at least get the storyline right.

The movie was ok. It's got a good amount of action, some BRUTAL death scenes and a little nudity. What more could you want? It's worth paying full price to see it at the theater.

Although I'm amazed to say it, one of the best interpretations of the Beowulf myth I've seen was on "Xena Warrior Princess". It quite succinctly caught the mood of the poem, and added its own tragic undertones.

Thanks for the review, Mr. Kamiya. I really enjoyed the literary history woven into a movie review. I especially appreciated your pointing out that the female seductive witch figure was a late medieval Christian invention, and not at all characteristic of mythological female entities in all times and places--I know this from my own literary studies to be accurate.

And how the more annoying that this film has turned Grendel's mother into a stereotypical seductress, instead of the truly weird, deeply mysterious entity she is in the original story. Gaiman is normally more mythologically subtle than that. Sigh.

Surprised not to see a mention of John Gardner's novel Grendel here. Talk about a work that successfully humanized the ancient story, and made it look easy, to boot.

Your essay was wonderful. I wish you could have spent more time on Tolkien and his philosophy of mythology. He was an amazing man, both him and his friend CS Lewis, and I would dearly like to have heard more of your thoughts on their mythological writing. When Lewis was asked about writing fantasy he said the key was to create in the reader "An indescribably longing to be part of something beautiful." To him this was the essence of mythology; not whether it was true or not, or whether we would actually want to be a part of some mythological story come literally to life. Rather it was to feel part of the nobility or the beauty or the transcendence that the myth invokes in us. To both Lewis and Tolkien, this was also the essence of their Christian faith.

I am so pleased to finally see a review of the new Beowulf movie that does not begin with the same tired cliche about "being forced to read a boring poem in middle school". As a PhD candidate working in medieval English who translated and wrote on Beowulf for my MA, I am delighted to see a review which not only has kind words for the original poem but offers a concise and intelligent synopsis and description of it. I too hated the Shrek-meets-American-Pie movie adaptation with its dirty jokes and breasts replacing elegant speeches. I was irritated by the swords and bodies constantly and needlessly flying at the camera to show off the 3-D effects. The entire pagan-Christian worldview and its nuances were thrown away for a trendy throwaway reference to 'Odin'. The comparison to Tolkien was apt not only for Tolkien's love of the poem but because of the far better and richer adaptation of his work. Well done.

I don't really hold with taking artists, and even Hollywood directors, to task for "missing opportunities." First, because it is an incredibly trivial observation. I had a hamburger for dinner, for instance, when with an iota of artistic vision and talent, it could have been steak tartare. When one does one thing, the number of things one could have done instead, but doesn't, is fairly large. I am missing several worthwhile opportunities as I type, and I fully expect that this letter would be a more valuable contribution to the world, if only I had the wit to seize them. Or maybe I should be writing to my Congressman. That schmuck.

A sacred text differs from a cow in many respects. The cow's post-mortem potential will be capped by the choosing steak-tartare or hamburger. A sacred text, however, is not mortal and finite in the manner of a cow. It will continue to be available to be made into movies, toilet paper, or whatever, indefinitely.

We can call a poem, "The most important text of our ur-language," and be totally right, but castigating an opportunistic, twenty-first century Hollywood adaptation of that text for not paying it due reverence is silly. Its like accusing Wendys of not being Chez Pannis. When I love a book, I generally avoid the cinematic adaptation, unless it is the work of a director who's vision I admire in its own right. For me, this review is no more gifted with artistic insight, and no less opportunistic, than the film it takes as a point of departure. The happy news is that Beowolf, and Wuthering Heights, Tarzan, Dracula, Moby Dick, etc. are all still standing, should anyone be moved to tackle them. A bibliophile might make the argument that a really good adaptation is more likely to damage an original text, by more nearly eclipsing it. I think there's a better argument to be made in defense of that view. But not much better.

Tolkien's parable is pretty. But in a world that is primarily non-academic, the tower would be taken down for more practical reasons. Say, helping to pave a road, on which one might actually reach the sea. Or building a cow-shed, If the tower is a sacred text, it cannot, in fact, be taken down. Defending sacred texts in the style Mr. Kamiya adopts here suggests that they need defending. It is a heroic pose, but a purely theatrical one.

The big question now is, which are we going to see first, "Gilgamesh, The Movie," or "Njal's Saga?' Or did I miss them?

Okay, I'm going to risk sounding like a geek boy.

My favorite scene in LOTR is probably a good example of what you are describing. I had never read LOTR, so I came to the whole experience as a blank receptor. I was surprised and delighted throughout, but then the scene came where the fellowship enters the lands of humans. When I saw the giant statues of the kings, hands outthrust as a warning to invaders, I had chills run up my spine, actual goosebumps. It was instant recognition, total comprehension; I felt that I had seen them before, the scene was like a long suppressed memory suddenly restored. The connection was so powerful, but I am not sure why.

I haven't seen Beowulf, but I don't expect it will offer anything similar. For one thing, I don't expect to be able to view the plastic people I saw in the trailer as human beings.