Open letter to Peter Jackson

Dear Peter Jackson,

I meant to write to you long ago. In fact, the urge came almost a decade ago, on the day I learned you were going to direct The Lord Of The Rings. My first thought was: no. No, it can’t be: the sheer scope, the sheer otherworldliness of the thing… For instance, what was bothering me above all, was this: where would you settle all of them bizarre creatures, particularly those diminutive ones, the hobbits? Would you digitize the whole thing and then be anathematized by bloodthirsty Tolkienists all over the world? I hoped not. So it was then that I first expressed my intention to spare you the headache and come forward with my location proposal. But then the shock came. As it turned out, you were not filming that Tolkien’s Orwellian allegory, his big political claim in one of the novel’s final chapters. That desecrated shire bit, you were not filming that. And thus my proposal was broken asunder.   

So hereby, my dear man, comes my second chance. A couple of days ago I saw a TV report on the long-awaited prequel, The Hobbit, and on your current New Zealand problem. I thought: hey, but that’s an opportunity not to be missed! Familiar location at risk, an unwelcome perspective of moving the filming to Britain? Now, it seems, I can not only spare you the headache, but also the Warner Brothers their huge expenses. For what I’m proposing is, while not exactly free, dirt cheap. And, Mr. Jackson, here’s the catch: all dirt cheap. Starting with sites and ending with actors. The place both close and far away; in other words, exactly what you need. And believe me, no Viggo Mortensen to empty your sack. Plus, the authenticity is simply astonishing. It will blow your mind! A tad grim the populace, granted, lacking hobbits’ usual joviality, but let us remind ourselves of the current state of economic affairs and not be nitpicking. Beer’s in place, dwelling-holes are there, half-links’ parochial quietness is intact. Mind you (and tell this to the Warners), not even those tiresome make-up expenditures. And no add-on hairy feet – honest, Mr. Jackson, no pain in the neck over that so early in the morning. Please, please, my man, I’m not being brutal – it’s just that with those oversized feet and layers of make-up the thing will simply turn into farce. And we are not going for overkill, are we?

But time and tide wait for no man, Mr. Jackson, so please be quick with your response. Consider this proposal as your chance of a lifetime, for that’s what it really is. Presently the path is free. Really, Mr. Jackson, bring on the cameras or you’ll have to wait for another brilliant offer like this till the end of your life. And it will not, let’s admit, be Bilbo Baggins’ longevity.

Waiting for your reply,

     Alexey Provolotsky.

Minsk, Belarus.