Pretty much the definition of critic-proof blockbuster entertainment, The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug, the second chapter in a planned three-film adaptation of J.R.R. Tolkien’s fantasy genre touchstone, arrives with an attendant blitz of message board buzz, and then spends the better part of over two-and-a-half hours ably delivering scenes the sort of which the series’ most ardent fans wish to see.

Of course, Guillermo del Toro was supposed to have taken over the director’s chair on The Hobbit movies from Peter Jackson, the director of the groundbreaking Lord of the Rings films, and there are times herein when one gets momentarily lost in the quirkier narrative folds that could have been. But Jackson is back on board, and the technical scope and level of achievement of this sprawling adventure tale is hard to reasonably assail. Last year’s The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey raked in a billion dollars and change worldwide, and there’s little to no reason to believe that this entirely tolerable if somewhat stolid offering will make one penny less.



The story, again, tracks the efforts of the noble Thorin Oakenshield (Richard Armitage) and his band of a dozen fellow dwarves — along with wizard Gandalf the Grey (Ian McKellan) and Bilbo Baggins (Martin Freeman), their unlikely hobbit companion — as they undertake an arduous trek to recover the important Arkenstone from the gold-filled lair of dragon Smaug, and bring about a rechristening of their dormant underground kingdom. Along the way they cross paths with wood elves, and are briefly imprisoned by King Thranduil (Lee Pace), before finally arriving for a face-to-face confrontation with the slumbering beast of the title.

The Desolation of Smaug, to my mind, doesn’t really register on an emotional level; Jackson and co-screenwriters del Toro, Fran Walsh and Philippa Boyens try to foist a class-and-species-clash love triangle between elves Legolas (Orlando Bloom) and Tauriel (Evangeline Lilly) and dwarf Kili (Aidan Turner) onto the proceedings, but it’s a scratch, at best. As diversionary entertainment, though, it’s fine, really — certainly for those predisposed to the material. A river escape from Mirkwood, wherein dozens if not hundreds of orcs are felled in an increasingly manic fashion that would make even the Three Stooges proud, achieves an undeniable lift. A forest sequence with lots of giant spiders is genuinely unnerving. And there’s a certain enjoyable cat-and-mouse fun, too, to the showdown between Smaug and Bilbo and Thorin in the former’s lair, even if the physical definition of the space eventually gets the best of Jackson’s oversized instincts.

But whereas An Unexpected Journey — which washed over me in mostly pleasant fashion, though admittedly without leaving much of a lasting impression — had the benefit of the feeling of something starting off, this film feels like all muddled climb. There’s a generally livelier pace, so when the action sequences are working boredom is held at bay. And the New Zealand landscapes — beautifully captured by cinematographer Andrew Lesnie — are as magnificent as ever. But in the end, The Desolation of Smaug can’t help but feel like what it is, which is a taffy-like stretching of a slender tale. For those who aren’t hardcore Tolkien enthusiasts, it can be a bit of a slog. (Warner Bros., PG-13, 161 minutes)