With the completion of The Hobbit film series and the as-yet unlikely prospect that Peter Jackson and associates will return to Middle-Earth for more cinematic ventures, what will happen to the association between Middle-Earth, New Zealand, and global Hollywood?
New Zealand as Middle-Earth is captured in the many Tolkien’s manifestations dotted about the country from the Dragon Inn of Hobbiton (aka Matamata) to the Rivendell sign in Kaitoke Regional Park, the statue of Gandalf in Miramar and the giant Gollum, eagle and Smaug at Wellington airport. Even though the impact of the ‘Ring franchise’ on tourism may be overestimated, there is no doubt that the two trilogies have redefined the national identity and international perceptions of the country. Few creative enterprises have so transformed the sense of what New Zealand is and made themselves so pervasive.
The imaginary geography of New Zealand as home of Middle-Earth lives in the minds of many New Zealanders and international tourists as long as we collectively sustain the analogy and accept the inter-dependence of commercialism and national identity. The pervasiveness of commercial imperatives for brand New Zealand and its association with national identity are both a source of humour and pride, but also a fusion which needs airing.
The novels benefited from an existing fan base expanded by the global reach of the films. That was only one of the ingredients of the successful ‘New Zealand Home of Middle-Earth’ formula. The serendipitous alignment between the 100% Pure New Zealand campaign (which constructs landscape as an interactive playground) and the representation of the natural environment in the films, was also crucial. One of the main challenges faced by Frodo and Bilbo in their journeys is the interaction with a landscape that plays an active role in narrative terms. Similarly, the centrality of journeys and maps in the films fuelled the tourism imagination of millions of viewers. Furthermore, Lord of the Rings (LOTR)-related tourism was encouraged by the eerie similarity between Middle-Earth and New Zealand, both conceived by many Americans and Europeans as remote, utopic, imaginary lands.
Many New Zealanders have embraced Middle-Earth. The Government was so supportive of the films that it changed national employment laws to suit the producers. This enthusiasm was possibly the expression of an urge for a new position on the global stage. Over the last few decades New Zealand has attempted to emancipate itself from Britain, both from the economic and cultural point of view, and LOTR provided the possibility of assuming a new, successful identity. And yet New Zealand as Middle-Earth represents a subtle return to its British, imperial past. Early colonial propaganda portrayed New Zealand as a more ‘pure’ version of England: an untamed land unspoilt by industrialisation and centuries of class privilege. Similarly, Tolkien conceived Middle-Earth as a mythological, idealised version of ‘Olde England’. Today New Zealand has replaced its imperial mother country with Hollywood, the new seat of power in the globalised, capitalist world.
It is now unlikely that Jackson or his production companies will be involved in more LOTR sequels or prequels and the popularity of the New Zealand-as-Middle-Earth brand seems destined to decline. While the fate of New Zealand film-tourism is in question, the future of the local film industry seems more promising. James Cameron’s Avatar sequels are on the horizon and the producers are estimated to spend almost $500-million in New Zealand. The Avatar films, eligible for a special 25% rebate, will bring significant economic benefits to the country, strengthening the local industry by upskilling the local crew which, in turn, will be able to transfer some of that knowledge to New Zealand films.
But what about tourism and destination image? Will Tourism New Zealand manage (or even attempt) to capitalise on the Avatar spin-offs by orchestrating a new film-tourism campaign: ‘New Zealand Home of Pandora’ (the fantasyland of Cameron’s films)? It is unlikely for any film franchise to replicate the popularity and success of Middle-Earth tourism in New Zealand. Perhaps New Zealand can capitalise on the talent and creativity of the local people who make films such as The Hobbit and Avatar to find a new, more sustainable tourism brand. If this country can adopt a story conceived by an English scholar it can, and perhaps should, embrace the local histories and myths of the people, both Pakeha and Maori, who have shaped the identity of Aotearoa New Zealand.