In Search of a Cure for Dragon Sickness
In the course of the past year, I’ve noticed an odd pattern. Some story, often times a movie, will come to my attention, seemingly innocuously. A few days later, after having read or watched whatever it is, I’ll suddenly realize that the story is extremely relevant to some event playing out in my view right now. It might be particularly relevant to a close friend and the challenges they are currently facing, or it sometimes speaks to something about the current zeitgeist, and it applies to me, to you, to everyone.
The latest instance of this was when a friend posted this video in our discord:
What a tour de force from Cumberbatch this performance is. He’s doing something that should be patently ridiculous, and yet even as you laugh, you’re ensnared, enthralled by his portrayal of the dragon Smaug. You feel his pride. His anger at being trifled with. His almost indolent threats. He is Smaug. Who dares to steal from him?! He is Smaug! To kill the thief, all he has to do is reach out, and snuff out his life...well, if it were a normal thief, perhaps...
Truly incredible that a man crawling around on the floor wearing a ridiculous, sci-fi looking get up can make you feel all that. And so, of course, having watched this video, I decided that I ought to revisit Peter Jackson’s Hobbit Trilogy. It had been years since I’d seen it, but Cumberbatch’s performance had sparked a desire within me to see it in its full glory. And, as I alluded to earlier, there are some powerfully relevant elements to the story...
The Hobbit Trilogy: An Overview
Rewatching the trilogy, I was reminded of why I hardly remembered watching it in the first place. The trilogy is disappointing. It’s the first two movies, An Unexpected Journey and The Desolation of Smaug that really earn it this condemnation. The third, The Battle of the Five Armies, is somewhat redeeming, but this is still a trilogy. The dead weight of the first two movies can’t be carried by the last movie, even if it is a true masterpiece, which it is not.
It’s hard to pick one thing exactly that is the problem. The acting is excellent. Peter Jackson is a master of visual storytelling; his prodigious skill is on full display. The CGI is tasteful. Exaggerations are appropriate rather than grotesque. The score is excellent. So where does it go wrong?
From the beginning, to make three long movies from a single, fairly short and straightforward novel was an ambitious undertaking that would require serious elaboration on Tolkien’s original story to make it all work. And that kind of elaboration requires a cohesive, powerful vision to bring it all together. If there was a unifying vision for the Hobbit Trilogy, it failed utterly. Despite each element of the movies often being excellent, together they fail to make an impression.
But, buried in this soupy failure of a trilogy are the bones of a hearty stew. If we’re willing to look beyond the films’ general confusion, specific elements shine with an intensity that gives life to Tolkien’s story.
Recovering the Gold of a Squandered Performance
For films with such technically excellent acting, it’s remarkable how it never feels like you as the viewer, the audience, are present, immersed in the story. The acting fails to leave an impression. You are a not engaged in the events onscreen. You are an observer. A bystander. There is no investment in whether Bilbo escapes from one sticky situation or another. The famous riddle game with Gollum elicits little emotion. The films must rely on their plentiful action scenes to make you feel anything at all. But a well-choreographed sword fight cannot make up for the lack of dramatic tension.
The most egregious example of this failure is in the scenes with Smaug. As polished as the CGI dragon is, as massive as they make him appear, and as tremendous the spouts of fire he breathes are, he does not possess as much awe-inspiring fury as CGI-less Cumberbatch does in his little pinky. How they took a performance like that and muted it, I’ll never know. The CGI version of the performance lacks dynamism of Cumberbatch alone.
But, if we consider only Cumberbatch’s performance, the power of Smaug emerges. Cumberbatch is not a man crawling around on the floor, he is Smaug, King Under the Mountain. It’s not the great displays of strength and fury. It’s the little, subtle things. The laziness of the movements. The confidence. Cumberbatch’s Smaug is, initially at least, not upset about the theft so much as he is curious about who would dare consider stealing from him in the first place.
It is this impetuous yet patient aspect that makes him terrifying, unpredictable. Is he really going after Bilbo? Or is he just playing with him like a cat plays with a mouse before devouring him? He doesn’t just roar and tear and shred. His smallest, simplest movements imply violence. In this, Cumberbatch captures and portrays the essence of what Tolkien depicted in his book, I believe. He shows us how powerful of a symbol Smaug really is.
To put it in astrological terms, the Lonely Mountain is Mount Capricorn, home to a great, prestigious clan of dwarves. As always, to those who can dominate a hierarchy gain great wealth and treasure as their reward. It is interesting that the title of the King of these dwarves, Thror, is the King Under the Mountain. Thror does not stand at the top of the hierarchy, he is inside of it. Within it, at its core. And when he hoards his wealth under the Mountain, then the dragon comes, kills and drives away the dwarves, seizes their treasure and brings it down to the deepest dungeon in their former home.
Smaug comes as a result of this inversion. The hoarding of the bounty of the hierarchy, instead of it freely flowing from the peak of the Mountain down to the bottom, represents an invitation. The Arkenstone, the crown jewel of the King Under the Mountain, a stone that shines with its own light and represents the whole legacy of Thror, everything that he has built, is lost. It falls into the hoard of treasure, so vast that the stone disappears as though it has been dropped into the sea. The legacy of the dwarves is swallowed by greed, and when Bilbo uncovers it, Smaug lays a curse on it. The Arkenstone, he says, will drive Thorin mad.
Confront the Dragon Within
The curse plays itself out over the course of the next film. The dramatic tension that was so lacking in the previous two films is present between Bilbo and Thorin in spades. Bilbo, fearing the power of Smaug’s curse, has hidden the Arkenstone instead of presenting it to the dwarves. His fears are proven to be correct, as even without seeing the stone Thorin is consumed by the need to possess it. After all, it is not simply a beautiful jewel, but a representation of the power and authority of the King Under the Mountain. And this obsession rapidly descends into a kind of madness. Dragon Sickness, they call it. Smaug is Thorin’s shadow, and if in life he could not consume him with his fire, the dragon can still drive him mad in death.
The visual portrayals of this descent are poignant. As Thorin broods and makes increasingly unhinged statements, the visuals match, emphasizing the distance between him and the rest of the Company. The halls the dwarves carved into the Mountain are enormous, with great vaulted ceilings and mighty, thick pillars. In the prior film they gave a cavernous, empty feeling to the Mountain. Now though, the camera focuses closely on Thorin’s face, and we listen to his obsession with the dragon hoard and the Arkenstone becoming more and more extreme. The mountain feels as claustrophobic for us as it does for Thorin. His eyes twitch from side to side, never focusing on the people in front of him. Except when he is raised to anger. Thorin unknowingly repeating the lines of Smaug jealously guarding his hoard from the previous movie is a particularly clever, and horrifying, touch.
The dragon without has been defeated, but now, now Thorin must contend with the dragon within.
The Dragon and the Devil
As a symbol, the Dragon has played many different roles in many different stories, sometimes as a monster that must be defeated, sometimes as a source of fortune, good luck and wisdom, and everything in between. Arthur Pendragon, or the monster Tiamat. Champion, or chaos incarnate. There is another role that it frequently plays, however. Loosely, this could be described as a source of temptation, like the Serpent in the Garden. The Devil.
This connection can be seen in the story of Dracula. Originally, the name Dracula meant “son of the dragon”, thought to be a reference to an order of knights that Vlad II, father of Vlad the Impaler, was a member of. By the time Bram Stoker was learning about Romanian folklore and heard of a bloodthirsty ruler from centuries past called Dracula, though, the word dracul had gained another meaning: it was now also used to refer to the Devil. Dracula, the son of the dragon, was now the son of the Devil.
This connection between the Dragon and the Devil is an important one for understanding the role of Smaug in the Hobbit. To elucidate this, I’ll refer to a conversation I had with Mircea Macavei a few months ago about the Devil as the archetype is represented in Tarot. An excerpt from the conversation:
MM: Interesting devil comes from διάβολος in Greek, δια (to separate, in-between) + βάλλομαι (to choose, to act). So the devil, as the RWS card depicts, is the space in- between choice, the prerogative of the individual, or is the wanting your cake and eating it too.
HE: Hmm, that is interesting. I’ve always thought of him as the part of you that doesn't want to take off your chains.
MM: Everyone wants to take off their chains, few are able to live with the consequences. In that in-between space is where the devil exists. Your will/individuality is split in two and both parts are chained to that which promises both but delivers none.
In other words, the Devil is the entity that seems to offer you everything you want, without sacrifice, and ensnares you in this way. No need to prioritize, to figure out what really matters, what you are really passionate about, what you’re willing to suffer for. Why do that when you can just have it all instead?
But, as Mircea says, the Devil’s promises ultimately never deliver. There is no such thing as a free lunch. Nothing can be gained without some sort of sacrifice. In this sense, the dragon- devil connection becomes clear, harkening back to the old tales of Fafnir the dwarf, who comes into the possession of a cursed ring and treasure, kills his father, and escapes into the wilderness. There he turns into a dragon. (Tolkien, by the way, was a scholar of stories and languages throughout Northern Europe, and deeply familiar with these tales.)
It is repeatedly emphasized throughout the Hobbit Trilogy that the dwarves are trying to reclaim their home. That includes the gold, yes, but it is the home that matters. And this is what Thorin forgets as he obsesses over the treasure hoard. He feels that now is his chance to seize the things he has been lacking all his life. The treasure, the status of being King, the righting of old wrongs. Vindication. The people who doubted him proven wrong. Stability, safety. Most of all, control.
This is the heart of the issue Thorin is struggling with. His inability to make appropriate sacrifice, to let go of the need for control, of his lust for the dragon hoard, the status of King Under the Mountain, and all that goes with it. His need for this vindication is consuming him, and it is destroying what truly matters to him. This is the Devil that beguiles him.
The Inevitability of Sacrifice
Why do people turn to the Devil? Why is it so hard to make proper sacrifice? The Devil card has long been associated with the Sign of Capricorn. The animal associated with the sign of the Mountain is the goat, and the Devil is often portrayed with cloven hooves. What does anyone who scales a mountain fear? Falling off. This is the great, consuming need of Pluto in Capricorn, to assure oneself that one will not fall off. It’s a long drop, falling off of a hierarchy. Will you survive that fall? Will you be able to endure without the status and resources from your position within it? And, of course, if you fall, someone else can climb up. Jealousy is a natural element of scaling Mount Capricorn. The closer you are to the top, the better the rewards, with the greatest going to the one at the peak.
Thorin cannot bear the idea of someone outside of his company receiving a single coin of the treasure he regards as rightfully his, the fruits of the labor of his people. He fears that if it is given away, then the status of him and his people will lessen, that they will not be rewarded for their sacrifices. He has fallen from the Mountain once already, when the dragon came and destroyed his home. Can you blame him for not wanting to fall again? He has lived a life of misery and poverty since he and his kin were driven from the Mountain, and only recently has he clawed his way back to something like prosperity. He has wanted for the legacy, the wealth and prestige his forefathers built his whole life.
But, what Thorin forgets is that the reason for this lack, this wanting he has had all his life, is because he and his family have not had a home. That is the source of it. The wealth and legacy of his people are just the trappings of a proper home. In truth, he has everything he needs already, he just needs a place to hold it. A place to keep the true treasures, the true abundance in his life.
However, sacrifice cannot be avoided. If he seeks control, dominion, the dragon hoard, then he must throw this true treasure away. The people in his life must be sacrificed. His heart must be sacrificed. There is a reason to climb the Mountain, beyond simply gathering treasure for yourself. Indeed, the desire to amass treasure and wealth can become a deadweight, dragging you down off the Mountain. This is where things tie into the current zeitgeist, I believe.
You see, the that feeling of lack, that powerful, overwhelming desire for control, that is an aspect of our psyche that falls under the purview of Pluto, in astrological terms. Right now, and when these films were made, Pluto is in Capricorn. Pluto in Capricorn is the dragon hoarding treasure inside of the Mountain, the monster who keeps all the wealth to itself and denies everyone else their fair share. But, that dragon lives in all of us. If you defeat the manifestation of it without, then you must contend with the one within, just like Thorin. Right now, we all have Dragon Sickness.
Taking Off the Devil’s Collar and Shattering the Bonds of Fear
As I have discussed previously, the Major Arcana of the Tarot describes the Fool’s Journey, an archetypal story that plays out in all of our lives. The Devil is but one stage of this story, one archetypal figure encountered on the Journey. And, in order to truly understand this archetype, and how Thorin is ultimately able to overcome his own Devil, we must understand how it relates to the rest of the story.
The twenty-one Major Arcana cards (the Fool is not included in this count, for he is the traveler) are roughly divided into three sections, three stages of the journey. The first is about mastering physical reality, and finding the direction in which we must seek answers. The second stage, which includes the Devil, is about exploring the depths of our own soul and psyche, finding the root of our Foolish inconsistencies. These must be ascertained and integrated before we can proceed to the third stage, spiritual unification.
The card immediately proceeding the Devil in the Fool’s Journey is Temperance, and it is followed by the Tower. Temperance is about balancing the energies of the psyche, our desires and judgement, and preparing for encountering the depravity in our hearts with the Devil. How can you face your own unwillingness to make proper sacrifice, your arrogance in desiring to have it all, without Temperance? You would break. Tempering is required, so that you are not brittle.
Of course, the the sheer depths of your own madness will break you anyway. We see this when Dwalin confronts Thorin. Dwalin, who is so loyal, walking away. Finally, Thorin must begin to question. “Am I being betrayed, or am I doing the betraying?” The answer to that question results in the Tower. The depiction of this experience is brilliant. Thorin walks across a mirror-like floor of solid gold, and as he looks down at it, he sees not his own reflection, but the serpentine, creeping shadow of the dragon coiling about him. Before his disbelieving eyes, the gold begins to soften, and sink around him. He tries to run, but it’s too late. He is swallowed whole by the metallic lake.
And then he wakes up.
That is the Tower, the realization that breaks you, but also allows you to rebuild yourself from the ground up. Thorin breaks, and breaks free of his shackles. He determines to make the sacrifice, no matter how great. And they will be great. He must choose between a home, and the dragon hoard. The longer you put off the sacrifice, the greater it will be when you finally make it. In the end, by the time he is able to let go of the treasure hoard, and overcome his dragon sickness, Thorin must sacrifice himself completely. Ultimately, though, this redeems him. He falls in battle securing the Lonely Mountain for his people. He does not live to enjoy the spoils of victory, the status of King with control of an enormous treasure hoard. But his people have a home.
When he is buried in the Mountain, the elves honor him by returning the sword Orcrist and entombing it with him. Orcrist, of the same origin as the sword Sting carried by Bilbo and Frodo, burns with the same light at the approach of orcs. It is said that with the blade resting with Thorin, the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain could never be taken by surprise by a host of enemies. A lasting protection earned by his sacrifice.
Pluto remains in Capricorn for another couple of years before entering Aquarius. During this time, we are struggling with the same kind of challenge Thorin faces: Dragon Sickness, the inability to make proper sacrifices. All of the gold in the world doesn’t matter if guarding it means letting our family and friends die in battle at the foot of the Mountain. If the challenge is in Capricorn, then the answer is in Cancer: rather than seek to dominate the hierarchy and win its riches, we must evict the dragons and create a home in the Mountain for ourselves, for our families. You see, inside of ourselves, we already hold the key to true abundance. In creating space for a home in the heart of the Mountain, we are making a spring. A mountain spring, so cold and sweet and good to drink. It will fill the mountain, it will flow out of it down the slopes, nourishing life. First plants will come, then animals, then people. This is how the Town of Dale sprang up at the foot of the Mountain.
This is what I believe we need to pursue right now for ourselves. This is something that can bring people together, bring families together, in a time that only seems to see them break apart. Right now, it feels like we’re all in danger of Dragon Sickness. It’s not hopeless, though. Not hopeless at all. If a rising tide lifts all boats, a mountain spring makes an Eden.