I WISH to speak to you today about The Hobbit.You say: "Wot, the book, like?" And I say: "No, not the book. The radio dramatisation made by the BBC in 1968."
It has become, as they say, a classic of the genre. That you can still purchase it in t
he shops, or on Amazon, 40 years later is extraordinary. I bought my latest CD version on eBay, albeit for around 20 quid. My boxed cassette set was battered to bits, and it was a specific replacement package I wanted, in an executive-style folder with a commemorative booklet and a fold-out map, which I like to take out of an evening, when all is calm and the candle-light flickers, and I can trace with my finger the route taken by Bilbo Baggins all these years ago, in what Tolkien called "the quiet of the world".
I still remember the first time I heard this radio adaptation, dramatised by Paul Kilgarriff and produced by John Powell, about 17 years ago. A kind person had taped a re-broadcast episode off the radio for me. I was sceptical of such adaptations but, tired after travelling doon from Up Yonder, I lay down in a cosy, darkened room in December, switched on the cassette recorder and was instantly bewitched. I've listened to this adaptation thousands of times over the years since and, indeed, to my recent CD version every night for the last ten days or so. I don't hear much of it, dozing off almost instantly, as I put it on at night to help me sleep when the Burd isnae here. I know that doesn't sound like much of a commendation. But it only helps me sleep because it makes me feel all warm and safe. I know what's coming next. I do the same with Dad's Army tapes, and The Men From the Ministry, and other shows that I love dearly.
Tinnitus is one of many blessings that Jehovah the Merciless has inflicted on me, and it was to cover this that I first conceived the idea, many years ago, of listening to something pleasant when I was dog-tired and desperate to sleep. It works.
Anyway, over the years, I've heard the whole thing so often, I can recite it almost word for word. What I can't recapture for you, here on this glossy page, is the atmosphere. Partly, this is down to the music, composed by David Cain and performed by David Munrow and the Early Music Consort on a variety of old instruments. Generally speaking, I dislike the medievalisation of Tolkien, as that unhappy era was smelly. But the music here, on instruments from that time and – perhaps more appropriately – from before it, conveys a thrilling, mystical, other-worldy feel.
However, the single most effective aspect is the performance of Paul Daneman as Bilbo. It's an extraordinary tour de force and, in playing a character personally beloved to so many people, an utter triumph. Every chortle, quip and quaver conveys perfectly the adventure of an essentially suburban being who comes good when tested in the often frightening world of Middle-Earth.
I've tried to find out more about Daneman and was intrigued to note that, in the first substantial obituary offered on Google, his incredible performance in The Hobbit merits one throwaway sentence. Perhaps it seemed small beer beside his classical acting and television success on sitcoms such as Not in Front of the Children and Never a Cross Word, neither of which, alas, I can recall. I see here that he was also Sergeant Robert Maxfield in Zulu, a splendid film that I thought I knew well. Yet still I can't place him, and choose to leave it like that, rather than looking him up in Google Images and having my picture of his Bilbo dismayed. I hope you're not tittering because I spoke of "his Bilbo". It occurs to me that some of you may be unfamiliar with Tolkien's work and, if so, I feel sorry for you and believe you should be imprisoned.
True, I tittered myself when I heard the howling voices of the wolf-like Wargs in this production. The giant spiders sounded like they needed a good boot up the behind as well. But even these grow on you and were, at least, a spirited attempt to capture pure fantasy.
According to John Powell, Daneman's enthusiasm inspired the whole cast. John Justin, as Thorin Oakenshield the dwarf, and Wolfe Morris, as Gollum, give super performances, and even the addition of a narrator works well, thanks to the chemistry between Daneman and Anthony Jackson.
I urge you to obtain a copy of this splendid production, arguably the best in the entire history of radio. But you must listen to it by candlelight or, better still, in the warm, cosy darkness. Goodnight.
The full article contains 825 words and appears in The Scotsman newspaper.
