2.5 stars | Action-fantasy | PG-13 | 144 min. 
 
 Bilbo Baggins has always been something of an Everyman, both in the writings of creator J.R.R. Tolkien and in the films of director Peter Jackson, so it's natural for audiences to want to relate to him. 
 
 But Baggins is an all-too-apt metaphor for Jackson's adaptations of "The Hobbit," a film series that has gotten so far removed from its modest source material that it's a bit like Bilbo's own journey of self-discovery, disillusionment and eventual addiction to a certain creative self-indulgence... er, The One Ring. 
 
 Like Bilbo's, Jackson's quest has mutated into something larger and stranger than he ever intended. 
 
 Entertaining? Absolutely. But not exactly what he (or we) signed up for. 
 
 In this image released by Warner Bros. Pictures, Martin Freeman appears in a scene from "The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies." (AP Photo/Warner Bros. Pictures, Mark Pokorny) (Mark Pokorny/AP) 
 
 "The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies" completes Jackson's trilogy of "Hobbit" adaptations, which were eked out of Tolkien's relatively slim 1937 work of fiction. It's also the (supposed) end of Jackson's Oscar-winning Middle-earth film saga, which started with 2001's "Fellowship of the Ring." 
 
 "The Battle of the Five Armies" picks up exactly where last year's sturdy "The Desolation of Smaug" left off, with the fearsome dragon Smaug (voiced by Benedict Cumberbatch) bearing down on Lake-town in one of the most tense and spectacular openings in action-film history. Weta Digital's special effects are pure eye candy, from Smaug's rivers of belched flame to Lake-town's swift ruin. 
 
 Advertisement 
 
 Unfortunately, after Bard the Bowman (Luke Evans) fells the beast — no spoilers here, as it happens right up top — the film loses its steely focus. The proud band of 13 dwarves, led by Thorin Oakenshield (Richard Armitage) have reclaimed their kingdom of Erebor, which is stuffed with mountains of gold. Elves, men and orcs are all after it as a greater menace boils beneath the surface of Middle-earth. 
 
 In the meantime, the wizard Gandalf (Ian McKellan) sees the bubbles forming as he's freed from the spooky fortress of Dol Guldur by his wizard buddies. Will the "dragon-sickness" of hoarded gold destroy Thorin's formerly noble intentions? Will Bilbo (Martin Freeman) ever see The Shire again? And what about that tacked-on subplot with the elf-warrior (Evangeline Lilly as Tauriel) and her little dwarf boyfriend (Aidan Turner as Kili)? 
 
 The broad strokes of Tolkien's work are here, especially since Jackson drew on the appendices of "Lord of the Rings" in padding out "The Hobbit" from a single movie to two, and then three. But fans of Tolkien — or really, Jackson's overall Middle-earth canon — may feel a bit lost in "The Battle of the Five Armies." 
 
 Jackson makes some cool moves, especially in a scene in which Sauron reveals his true self to the wizards. It's a brilliant and psychedelic use of 3-D technology. 
 
 But those are too often trampled by staccato bursts of soft-focus speechifying. If the film was somehow slapped together in a series of last-minute editing decisions, it would be easy to see where Jackson got the character motivations and pacing. 
 
 PHOTOS: More images from "The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies" 
 
 However, movies of this scale rarely find their soul in last-minute decisions, so we're forced to confront the idea that this litany of repetitively foreboding proclamations, epic battles and unearned crying jags was intentional. 
 
 Jackson's gleefully sadistic sense of humor finds new levels of absurdity here, too. Juxtaposing brutal images (and sounds) of refugee-style suffering with bawdy slapstick is jarring enough — even taking into account that Jackson directed the splatter classics "Bad Taste" and "Braindead." 
 
 But the brutality is not limited to the numerous beheadings, sword impalements and otherwise improbably muscled orcs being taken down by slight creatures. Jackson also bashes us over the head with simplistic morality and sentiment, using corny dialogue to hammer home themes and events that are already glaringly obvious (see the transgressions of the Lake-town baddie Alfrid). Slow-motion close-ups of heavily made-up actors in various states of sobbing seem to make up a good quarter of the film. 
 
 It's in this melodrama that Jackson ultimately finds his aesthetic. Despite the CGI wizardry, this is old-school spectacle, writ impossibly large and broad for the masses. It lacks the weight and subtlety of the "Lord of the Rings" films, but it's still visually arresting at every turn. 
 
 From a tonal perspective, Jackson has crafted an unmatched body of work with his Middle-earth saga. With few exceptions, the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy has aged beautifully in the decade since the last film was released, and "The Hobbit" may do the same. These films are, at worst, only about one-tenth as embarrassing to their forbears as George Lucas' "Star Wars" prequels were to the original trilogy. 
 
 "The Battle of the Five Armies" seems to know this. It's a big, bold, schizophrenic pageant that still manages to work on a surprising number of levels — creative liberties and indulgences be damned. Still, it's no wonder that by journey's end our good Mr. Baggins looks as exhausted and glad for it to be over as we are. 
 
 John Wenzel: 303-954-1642, jwenzel@denverpost.com or twitter.com/johnwenzel ||||| Martin Freeman in a scene from the film, "The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies." (Photo: Warner Bros. Pictures) 
 
 Some people are going to love "The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies." 
 
 This is a fairly safe statement since the first "Hobbit" movie earned over $1 billion worldwide and the second made $958 million. 
 
 And this movie certainly lives up to its title. There is a hobbit and there are indeed five armies, though much of the time it seems more like 15. 
 
 But the essential problem here is the same thing director and co-writer Peter Jackson has been struggling with this entire franchise. He has taken one none-too-thick book and stretched it into three overly long movies. The result is a great deal of noise serving as filler. 
 
 The titular battle in this movie seems like it lasts 120 of the film's 144 minutes. It probably isn't that long, but it sure feels like it. And, after the film's opening sequence, it is really the only thing that happens. For many, battle fatigue will surely settle in. 
 
 The story, such as it is: After Hobbit Bilbo Baggins (Martin Freeman) and his band of dwarves take back the treasure-filled mountain from the dragon Smaug, Smaug gets all fired up and lays waste to the nearby village (just reading that sentence is headache-inducing). The survivors flee to the abandoned city near the mountain. 
 
 But then apparently every creature in Middle Earth realizes, hey, there's a mountain filled with gold and only seven (or however many) dwarves guarding it. Let's go get us some! 
 
 So elves and humans and other dwarves and, of course, orcs by the orcload come a'charging, all running smack into one another for the big battle. 
 
 The situation is complicated somewhat fiercely when the mountain-holding dwarves' leader, Thorin Oakenshield (Richard Armitage), is struck with a sort of gold fever and refuses to share any of the wealth with anyone, no matter how deserving. 
 
 Anyway — battle, battle, battle. Orcs screaming, elves looking shiny, dwarves wielding hammers, battle, battle. Gandalf shows up, Bilbo disappears and reappears thanks to his magic ring and battle, battle some more. 
 
 The repetition is draining, sure, but Jackson also seems to have lost much of the visual imagination that kept his "Lord of the Rings" trilogy engaging. Once you've seen one giant orc, you've pretty much seen them all. 
 
 And the lack of distinction between Bilbo's dwarves again adds to the indistinct fuzziness of the franchise. Who are these guys? In "Lord of the Rings" every character was distinct and recognizable; in "The Hobbit," most of the dwarves come off as window dressing. 
 
 Here's the good news: After what feels like three days, the movie ends. And there can't be another one. 
 
 Ha! Nice try. This is Hollywood. There can always be another one if there's money to be made. 
 
 Well, at least there won't be another one for a while. 
 
 TLong@detroitnews.com 
 
 twitter.com/toomuchTomLong 
 
 'The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies' 
 
 GRADE: C- 
 
 Rated PG-13 for extended sequences of intense fantasy action violence and frightening images. 
 
 Running time: 144 minutes 
 
 "The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies" (PG-13) At last Peter Jackson's over-stretched telling of this fantasy classic comes to an end with an exhausting, cacophonous and repetitive battle of elves and orcs and such. (144 minutes) GRADE: C- 
 
 Read or Share this story: http://detne.ws/1DMmJ93 ||||| Beginning with the blessing of not being stuck with a bunch of hungry and thirsty dwarves in Bilbo Baggins' hut for a half-hour at the outset, nearly everything about The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug represents an improvement over the first installment of Peter Jackson's three-part adaptation of J.R.R. Tolkien's beloved creation. The “unexpected journey” launched in last Christmas' box-office behemoth becomes the heart of the matter this time around, making for plenty of peril, warfare, theme-park-ride-style escapes and little-guy courage. For Jackson and Warner Bros., it's another movie, another billion. 
 
 PHOTOS: 'The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug' Premiere Draws Peter Jackson, Orlando Bloom 
 
 After exhibiting an almost craven fidelity to his source material the first time out, Jackson gets the drama in gear here from the outset with a sense of storytelling that possesses palpable energy and purpose. Toward the end, his perennial tendency to let bloat creep in reasserts itself to an extent; as in the Lord of the Rings films, not to mention King Kong, he has a hard time knowing when enough is enough even as the three-hour goalpost looms dead ahead. But for the most part he moves the episodic tale along with reasonable speed for a leviathan while serving up enough fights, close shaves and action-filled melodrama for an old-fashioned movie serial or a modern video game. 
 
 Part two is almost entirely devoted to the dangerous expedition of 13 dwarves recruited by the wizard Gandalf with the aim of reinstating Thorin Oakenshield to his rightful place as monarch of the underground kingdom of Erebor, lost in the devastating battle that opened the first film. Although dangers lurk every step of the way — even more than exist in the book — the one looming over all is Smaug, a huge dragon that lives deep in the bowels of the Lonely Mountain who must be subdued if evil is to be denied an enduring triumph. 
 
 Although they have mined Tolkien's extensive appendices to The Lord of the Rings to flesh out the story — roughly nine hours will be expended in adapting a book of less than 300 pages — Jackson and habitual co-screenwriters Fran Walsh and Philippa Boyens, along with original intended director Guillermo del Toro, have further expanded the dramatis personae by recruiting Legolas from Rings and inventing a welcome female character named Tauriel, a foxy archer fancied by Legolas but who herself shows an interest in Kili, one of Thorin's companions. Women action figures and romantic subplots were not Tolkien's thing, so even the acknowledgment of sexual attraction represents a radical step in this context. 
 
 With prolonged exposure to this tale comes awareness of some of the premise's limitations as performed drama. There is incident and confrontation galore, beginning with the portentous, tavern-set opening scene in which Gandalf lights a fire under Thorin, followed by the dwarves' arrival at their first destination, the farm of the “skin-changer” Beorn, first seen in the form of a bear. Then, once Galdalf leaves them to their own devices, the diminutive ones must contend with the dangers lurking within the vast Mirkwood forest, foremost of which are giant spiders that quickly spin webs around the morsel-sized travelers. Always, they are stalked and, as often as not, attacked by the fearsome Orcs, muscle-bound uglies in league with Smaug to continue their dominion over Erebor. 
 
 PHOTOS: Elijah Wood in 'Hobbit' and 16 Other Cameos in Prequels, Reboots and Remakes 
 
 However, as one skirmish follows another, it becomes clear that suspense cannot be a factor here because the rules of the game mitigate against it. Where the elves are concerned, there is no danger because they are, by nature, immortal. This is not the case for the dwarves but, with the exception of one injury, the little guys consistently escape unharmed while the humongous and ferocious orcs go down as easily as shooting gallery ducks. Just as a token bow to credibility, you'd think a few dwarves might be sacrificed, but nope, they're all charmed. 
 
 With Ian McKellen's ever-imposing Gandalf bowing out for a long stretch on other pressing business (consult the appendices), it might seem that the heavy lifting would be taken up by Martin Freeman's slowly flowering Bilbo Baggins. At times it is. He does have a nose for gold, first in the form of the inevitable and mischievously errant ring, then with the treasures in the deepest sanctum of the ruined mountain kingdom now occupied by the slumbering titular dragon. Feeling his way, Bilbo gradually accepts the call to greatness Gandalf has thrust upon him. 
 
 Still, Bilbo also steps to the side through a middle stretch that provides time not only for Legolas (with a blond-tressed Orlando Bloom not missing a step, nor an arrow shot, since Ring) and Tauriel (a winning Evangeline Lilly, of TV's Lost) but for a significant layover in a port called Lake-town. The central player here is Bard (Luke Evans, excellent), a barge man and trader who smuggles the dwarves into a Middle Ages-style backwater in which working stiffs, struggling families, layabouts and criminals are lorded over by the smart and venal Master, brought to vibrant Dickensian life by Stephen Fry. As they are preoccupied by the real-world concerns of commerce, politics and personal intrigue rather than monsters, mythology and regal destiny, Bard and Master are the two most recognizably human characters in the film. 
 
 Once Bilbo provides the key to the kingdom under the mountain, his main order of business is to avoid being swallowed whole or burned to a crisp by the fire-bellied Smaug, who's almost too big for the human-built quarters he occupies. Like some Bond villains who talk too much instead of quickly offing 007 when they have the chance, Smaug seems much enamored with the sound of his own voice. And a fine voice it is, supplied by Benedict Cumberbatch, but too unnaturally deepened and electronically modified to afford pure enjoyment of the actor's menacing readings. The ending is a true cliffhanger, the resolution to which audiences will be lining up for on Dec. 17, 2014. 
 
 Visually, the predominance of CGI in most scenes is consistent not only with the previous entry but all the Rings films and too many of Jackson's and cinematographer Andrew Lesnie's carefully calibrated swooping and circling camera moves look like they were generated by a computer program. On the other hand, the distractingly vivid images provided by the 48 frames-per-second in the first film appear to have been massaged properly this time, and there is a notably lower-than-average reduction in image brightness when using the 3D glasses. 
 
 Production: New Line Cinema, MGM, Wingnut Films 
 
 Cast: Ian McKellen, Martin Freeman, Richard Armitage, Benedict Cumberbatch, Evangeline Lilly, Lee Pace, Luke Evans, Stephen Fry, Ken Stott, James Nesbitt, Orlando Bloom, Mikael Persbrandt, Sylvester McCoy, Aidan Turner, Dean O'Gorman, Graham McTavish, Adam Brown, Peter Hambleton, John Callen, Mark Hadlow, Jed Brophy, William Kircher, Stephen Hunter, Ryan Gage, John Bell, Manu Bennett, Lawrence Makoare 
 
 Director: Peter Jackson 
 
 Screenwriters: Fran Walsh, Philippa Boyens, Peter Jackson, Guillermo del Toro, based on the novel by J.R.R. Tolkien 
 
 Producers: Peter Jackson, Carolynne Cunningham, Zane Weiner, Fran Walsh 
 
 Executive producers: Alan Horn, Toby Emmerich, Ken Kamins, Carolyn Blackwood 
 
 Director of photography: Andrew Lesnie 
 
 Production designer: Dan Hennah 
 
 Costume designers: Bob Buck, Ann Maskrey, Richard Taylor 
 
 Editor: Jabez Olssen 
 
 Music: Howard Shore 
 
 Senior visual effects supervisor: Joe Letteri 
 
 Rated PG-13, 161 minutes ||||| Warner Bros. 
 
 Way, way back in April 2011, before the critics started spewing insults in their snooty, elvish way, director Peter Jackson posted a note to his Facebook page under the heading "48 Frames Per Second." He wanted us to know why he’d used a special format in the filming of The Hobbit. It was a way of "future-proofing" the production, he explained. The 24 fps standard was selected somewhat arbitrarily in the 1920s, so that everybody’s films could accommodate a soundtrack. But with digital production and projection, it’s gotten very easy to shoot more frames and show more frames, and thus eliminate the strobe and blur that have been a part of film for almost a century. That’s the way that film is going, he advised. Sure, some "film purists" might complain, as purists like to do. But simple, moviegoing Shire-folk will adapt to it without a fuss. Don’t worry, hobbit friends, "it will look terrific!" 
 
 Daniel Engber Daniel Engber is a columnist for Slate. 
 
 
 
 I’ve just seen the film, which opens Friday, and I’m prepared to take a stand for this technology, on behalf of Peter Jackson if not for all of Middlebrow Earth. I know this quest requires courage: Reviewers have panned the use of 48 fps, almost to an elf, carping that the higher definition only serves to call attention to the shoddy sets and makeup. They’ve sneered that The Hobbit looks like an episode of Teletubbies or Dancing With the Stars. They’ve denounced the film for seeming like a high-end home movie or an oddly theatrical production that comes off less as fantasy than tatty summer-stock, a mega-budget version of I, Claudius. But don’t let these snobs from Rivendell bewitch you with their highfalutin criticisms. The 48 fps version of The Hobbit is weird, that’s true. It’s distracting as hell, yes yes yes. Yet it’s also something that you’ve never seen before, and is, in its way, amazing. Taken all together, and without the prejudice of film-buffery, Jackson’s experiment is not a flop. It’s a strange, unsettling success. 
 
 I’ll admit it took me at least an hour to get accustomed to the format. (Jackson has suggested this would take 10 minutes.) Until that happened, the crowd scenes and interiors did indeed resemble teleplays on the BBC. But as the story progressed, the spectacle at first outpaced and then escaped its negative comparisons. Where were the storm giants in the cast of Teletubbies? Did Claudius ever turn his enemies to stone? Who brought this horde of orcs to Glimmerglass? Once the story of The Hobbit gets going—which isn’t for a while—that stagy feeling has started to subside. By the time that Gollum* pops up in the rocky basement of a goblin lair, it may be the last thing on your mind. 
 
 Advertisement 
 
 
 
 So how bad is that first hour of the film, before your eyes get accustomed to its queer and vivid look? It’s awful, but that’s less a product of the fancy format than the shoddy content. The fact is, the introduction to The Hobbit would be wretched at any frame rate whatsoever, just as it would be an eyesore in both 3-D and 2-D, a snooze in 70 mm or 35 mm, a crapfest in color or a bore in black-and-white. Film purists take note: The best way to watch this footage is at a rate of precisely zero frames per second—to ignore it altogether, and read LOTR fan-fiction on your smartphone until it’s over. 
 
 An interminable sequence in Bilbo’s hutch culminates in a dorky, dwarven drinking song, performed alongside animated plates and spoons. (Hobbit food’s delicious. Don’t believe me? Ask the dishes.) I’d rather watch this toxic sequence at 24 fps, but only so as to mitigate my exposure by half. Jackson makes it worse by indulging in some handheld camerawork, which only accentuates the video effect, since it’s during these tilts and shifts that the lack of motion blur is most apparent. 
 
 Critics point to how the higher frame rate highlights insufficiencies in the makeup and the set design. (Slate’s Dana Stevens says that Gandalf’s staff now looks like "a cast-resin prop you might order from a Wiccan supply house.") I concede the point, at least at the movie’s outset, but once again I think it’s wrong to blame the doubled resolution. If a dwarf looks silly in his rubber nose, then it’s time to make a better rubber nose. These scenes aren’t lousy because of 48 fps; they’re lousy because the props and makeup crews are now behind the times. 
 
 Seen this way, a higher frame rate doesn’t have to be a liability. It’s a chance to build a more substantive illusion. Visual-effects guru Dennis Muren points out that actors can do more subtle work at 48 fps. "The performances are better at a high frame rate," he said at a recent panel discussion. "You can see more clearly the intent of the actors." That’s true for The Hobbit, where the better players in the cast—the flexi-faced Martin Freeman and Andy Serkis—are at such an advantage that it seems unfair to everybody else. If this extra resolution makes an actor struggle, let’s not describe him as a victim of technology. Let’s say that he’s a victim of his meager talent. 
 
 Advertisement 
 
 
 
 Any innovation of this type will take some getting used to. In the past few years, we’ve had to train ourselves to read on Kindle screens, to watch sitcoms in HD, to see movies in stereoscopic depth. If the frame rate of The Hobbit demands a little more investment—an hour of adjustment, let’s say, instead of several minutes—that’s just because at first it doesn’t seem so new at all. It reminds us of the cheap, old-fashioned video that was shot at 60 fps. In the last 10 or 15 years, TV productions have made a point of shooting at a slower speed. They’ve forced their frame rates down from 60 to 24, adding motion blur and softening up the spatial resolution, so as to mimic what we’re used to seeing at the movie theater. 
 
 But it’s wrong to see the move to higher frame rates as a throwback to this early video, or a retro fashion shift. It does not mark the imposition from on high of a newer, better standard—one frame rate to rule them all (and in the darkness bind them). It’s more like a shift away from standards altogether. With the digital projection systems now in place, filmmakers can choose the frame rate that makes most sense for them, from one project to the next. Douglas Trumbull, who started playing around with 60 fps in the 1970s, says this variable can be applied at the level of the scene, or even the character. What looks good at 24 fps can stay at 24 fps, he says. What looks good at 48 fps can be at 48 fps. 
 
 Trumbull’s hybrid approach has played out already in the jump from celluloid to digital video and animation. Pixar likes to draw in the shimmering hexagons of a camera lens flare, even though its cameras are only virtual. Some live-action filmmakers add in lens flares for nostalgia, or to distract the viewer from a wonky CG effect. Peter Jackson uses them in The Hobbit as well. For all his future-proofing, he’s just like his colleagues: Directors like to keep some antiques around for show. 
 
 Earlier this year, Entertainment Weekly asked Jackson what he thought of the people who hate the 48 fps format. "I can’t say anything," he answered, "just like I can’t say anything to someone who doesn’t like fish. You can’t explain why fish tastes great and why they should enjoy it." I think he’s right. The fish may taste a little odd at first, and you may never grow to love it. But we should all be glad it’s on the menu.
– The last of the Hobbit films is now playing in theaters, bringing with it an end to Peter Jackson's long foray through JRR Tolkien's Middle-earth (at least for now). How does the finale of the second trilogy compare to its predecessors? Here's what critics are saying about The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies: "Entertaining? Absolutely," writes John Wenzel at the Denver Post. The film starts off with "one of the most tense and spectacular openings in action-film history." But soon, fans "may feel a bit lost," as if the movie was "somehow slapped together in a series of last-minute editing decisions." It's also clear that it's "far removed from its modest source material." It could be worse, though. Overall, "it still manages to work on a surprising number of levels." Peter Jackson continues to struggle with turning "one none-too-thick book ... into three overly long movies," writes Tom Long at the Detroit News. "The result is a great deal of noise serving as filler." Jackson "seems to have lost much of the visual imagination that kept his Lord of the Rings trilogy engaging." Long summarizes the flick like so: "Orcs screaming, elves looking shiny, dwarves wielding hammers, battle, battle." Joe Morgenstern, however, finds the film awe-inspiring. Sure, much of it "could qualify as an animated feature," he writes at the Wall Street Journal, but "the computer-generated effects here are executed so gorgeously ... and intertwined with such stirring live action, that the film as a whole is seamless, quite astonishing, and deeply satisfying." If you didn't watch first two movies, "the closing chapter isn't worth sitting through the 330 minutes' worth of movie that preceded it," writes Rene Rodriguez at the Miami Herald. Though in Rodriguez's view, the trilogy's final film is its best: It has an actual sense of "real life-and-death consequences," and the acting is even better. It's "fleet, rousing entertainment" with "CGI effects that raise the bar on the fantasy genre," he says. "Mr. Jackson, you proved your point by landing the finish. Now please, no more Middle-earth, ever."