Here’s a bold statement: The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring isn’t just a movie—it’s my ultimate autumn hug. While others might reach for feel-good classics like Gilmore Girls when the leaves turn golden, I’m all about reuniting with Gimli, Frodo, and the rest of the gang. And yes, I know what you’re thinking: ‘But isn’t it heartbreaking to send those hobbits into danger again?’ Not for me. In fact, I happily send them off on their quest two, maybe three times a year, rarely letting them finish. It’s not that I enjoy their struggles—it’s that this film wraps me in a blanket of comfort, like a hot chocolate on a chilly evening. With all due respect to cozy sweaters and pumpkin spice, Fellowship is autumn personified.
Now, here’s where it gets controversial: while most agree that Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings trilogy is cinematic gold, no one can agree on which film reigns supreme. My exes swear by The Two Towers for the Battle of Helm’s Deep, while my more sentimental friends swoon over Return of the King’s emotional closure. But for me? Fellowship takes the crown. There’s something utterly uplifting about a group of unlikely friends banding together to do the right thing—it’s as close to a utopia as we’ll ever get, even if I only let them get a third of the way through their journey.
And this is the part most people miss: Fellowship (and the entire trilogy) thrives on its clear moral lines. No gray areas, no ‘what-ifs.’ Saruman isn’t getting a TED Talk, and Sauron isn’t winning anyone over with his population control arguments. It’s good vs. evil, plain and simple. In a world where everything feels ambiguous, there’s something deeply satisfying about knowing exactly who—and what—to root for.
But let’s not forget the elephant in the room: my first Fellowship experience was… awkward, to say the least. Picture this: a cinema in 2001, my recently separated parents sitting on either side of me, radiating tension. For reasons still unclear, our family decided this would be our annual Christmas tradition. Was it an attempt to restore normalcy? A shared love for Middle-earth? If only we were the kind of family that talked about these things. Yet, somehow, this strange tradition stuck. Even now, Galadriel’s opening monologue—‘The world is changed’—sends a shiver down my spine, not just because of Sauron’s rise, but because of the memories it evokes.
You can feel the love poured into every frame of this film. Even the most heart-wrenching moments—like Frodo’s vow to carry the Ring or Gandalf’s fall—carry a strange, bittersweet beauty. I’ll pause on Gandalf’s face when Frodo takes on the burden, just to sit with that emotion a little longer. It’s this love that makes every scene, every line of dialogue, feel alive. It’s why I still feel good watching it, even during the darkest moments—Boromir’s sacrifice, the Fellowship’s fracture, the replacement of second breakfast with a measly apple. And if a film can make me feel good while sandwiched between two warring parents? That’s not just magic—that’s cinematic wizardry.
So, here’s my question for you: Which Lord of the Rings film is your comfort watch, and why? And more importantly, do you think Fellowship’s clear moral lines are its greatest strength—or does it oversimplify the complexities of good and evil? Let’s debate in the comments!
