Bat Shit Movie Reviews

We wants it, we needs it. Must have the precious.

– Sméagol

In the depths of Mordor, near the bubbling cauldrons of Mount Doom, an inconceivable scene unfolds: Sméagol and the mighty Sauron, locked in a sodden battle within a sprawling mud pit, wrestling for the One Ring. This is not a scenario derived from the celebrated works of J.R.R. Tolkien, but an imaginative exploration of how the seemingly impotent might overcome the seemingly insurmountable. Sméagol and Sauron represent polar antitheses in their understanding and wielding of power within Middle Earth, providing a fertile ground for exploring themes of power dynamics, resilience, and vulnerability.

Sméagol, embodying a tangible fragility and a palpable desperation, is famously quoted as saying, “We wants it, we needs it. Must have the precious.” His obsessive compulsion towards the One Ring speaks not only to a dark, corrupted desire but also reveals a relentless, unyielding tenacity born from this all-consuming need. It’s a drive so potent that it enabled him to commit murder and endure centuries beneath the mountains, in isolation and self-loathing, yet undeterred in his possession of the ring.

Sauron’s underestimation of Sméagol’s capacity to challenge might have sourced from an inability to comprehend the intense persistence that such potent desire can birth. His dismissiveness towards seemingly lesser beings underpins his strategic and perceptive failings. Sauron’s might and capacity for subjugation are unquestionable, but his hubris blinds him to the formidable, albeit non-traditional, strength that desperation and fear can catalyze in beings like Sméagol.

Now, envision Sméagol, with his dichotomous existence of innocence and malevolence, managing to wrestle the dark lord into submission in our hypothetical mud pit. This would not be a triumph of physical prowess, but a victory of psychological warfare, drawing upon his multifaceted internal struggle as an unanticipated weapon. Sméagol’s dialogue, which often flickers between pitiful pleas and sinister demands, illustrates an unpredictability that can confound even the most domineering adversary. “My precious,” he coos, teetering between gentle adoration and venomous possession, revealing a capability to be both subservient and dominative.

The potential defeat of Sauron at the hands of Sméagol could serve as a symbol of thwarting unforeseen challenges, illustrating that pow

In the depths of Mordor, near the bubbling cauldrons of Mount Doom, an inconceivable scene unfolds: Sméagol and the mighty Sauron, locked in a sodden battle within a sprawling mud pit, wrestling for the One Ring. This is not a scenario derived from the celebrated works of J.R.R. Tolkien, but an imaginative exploration of how the seemingly impotent might overcome the seemingly insurmountable. Sméagol and Sauron represent polar antitheses in their understanding and wielding of power within Middle Earth, providing a fertile ground for exploring themes of power dynamics, resilience, and vulnerability.

Sméagol, embodying a tangible fragility and a palpable desperation, is famously quoted as saying, “We wants it, we needs it. Must have the precious.” His obsessive compulsion towards the One Ring speaks not only to a dark, corrupted desire but also reveals a relentless, unyielding tenacity born from this all-consuming need. It’s a drive so potent that it enabled him to commit murder and endure centuries beneath the mountains, in isolation and self-loathing, yet undeterred in his possession of the ring.

Sauron’s underestimation of Sméagol’s capacity to challenge might have sourced from an inability to comprehend the intense persistence that such potent desire can birth. His dismissiveness towards seemingly lesser beings underpins his strategic and perceptive failings. Sauron’s might and capacity for subjugation are unquestionable, but his hubris blinds him to the formidable, albeit non-traditional, strength that desperation and fear can catalyze in beings like Sméagol.

Now, envision Sméagol, with his dichotomous existence of innocence and malevolence, managing to wrestle the dark lord into submission in our hypothetical mud pit. This would not be a triumph of physical prowess, but a victory of psychological warfare, drawing upon his multifaceted internal struggle as an unanticipated weapon. Sméagol’s dialogue, which often flickers between pitiful pleas and sinister demands, illustrates an unpredictability that can confound even the most domineering adversary. “My precious,” he coos, teetering between gentle adoration and venomous possession, revealing a capability to be both subservient and dominative.

The potential defeat of Sauron at the hands of Sméagol could serve as a symbol of thwarting unforeseen challenges, illustrating that power can manifest in varied, often unrecognizable forms. It brings forth an understanding that immeasurable power does not solely reside in strength and dominion but can be found in the darkest caverns of desire, fear, and obsessive compulsion.

In an alternate Middle Earth, where Sméagol emerges triumphant, the subsequent narrative would unravel differently, perhaps averting numerous tragic events and deaths that blemish its history. The tale highlights the vital importance of recognizing and respecting the strength found within even the seemingly weakest and most corrupt of entities.

Such an imaginative exploration underscores that while physical might and visible power often dominate the narratives of history and lore, the unanticipated, unrecognizable, and underestimated strength that festers within the seemingly powerless might very well birth the most surprising upheavals, shifting the trajectory of tales and the fates of all involved. And so, in the unexpected and sodden triumph of Sméagol, we find a peculiar, albeit poignant, reflection of the multifaceted nature of power and triumph within the legendarium of Middle Earth.

Power can manifest in varied, often unrecognizable forms. It brings forth an understanding that immeasurable power does not solely reside in strength and dominion but can be found in the darkest caverns of desire, fear, and obsessive compulsion.

In an alternate Middle Earth, where Sméagol emerges triumphant, the subsequent narrative would unravel differently, perhaps averting numerous tragic events and deaths that blemish its history. The tale highlights the vital importance of recognizing and respecting the strength found within even the seemingly weakest and most corrupt of entities.

Such an imaginative exploration underscores that while physical might and visible power often dominate the narratives of history and lore, the unanticipated, unrecognizable, and underestimated strength that festers within the seemingly powerless might very well birth the most surprising upheavals, shifting the trajectory of tales and the fates of all involved. And so, in the unexpected and sodden triumph of Sméagol, we find a peculiar, albeit poignant, reflection of the multifaceted nature of power and triumph within the legendarium of Middle Earth.

Anyway, to reward you for reading this far, we’ll end with a rendition of how this ultimate battle would or should have occurred:

Round 1: The air was thick with anticipation as the mud pit loomed like a brown abyss, eager to swallow up competitors. Sauron, the towering epitome of dread, strode into the pit with the confidence of a catwalk model, minus the grace, plus the menace. His armor clinked and clattered, a symphony of impending doom. Sméagol, on the other hand, lingered at the edge, his gangly frame twitching. His gaze flicked to the gleaming One Ring, his thoughts loud enough to echo through the arena, “We wants it. We needs it.” The audience chuckled as his voice squeaked with desire, the eternal debate of want versus need playing out before their eyes.

Round 2: With a suddenness that shocked everyone, including the laws of physics, Sméagol transformed from a statue of indecision to a missile of mud-soaked determination. He hurtled towards Sauron, who almost performed a double-take worthy of a slapstick silent film. Sauron’s stumble was a dance of awkwardness, arms flailing for balance as Sméagol darted like a slippery eel. The mud transformed the battle into a comedic sketch, with Sauron’s attempts to pin Sméagol looking more like an abstract artist at work, mud flying in every direction but the intended one.

Round 3: Now slightly muddied, Sauron’s visage twisted in annoyance; this was no longer a display of power but a slap-fight at a spa retreat. He tried to use his bulk to corner the scrappy Sméagol, only to be met with a faceful of mud, lobbed with the accuracy of a practiced pie-thrower. “Stupid, tricksy Dark Lord!” Sméagol cackled, each syllable punctuated with a splat of mud. The Dark Lord’s momentary blindness earned the underdog a series of squishy jabs, slaps, and points that turned the match into what could only be described as a Monty Python sketch gone rogue.

Round 4: The absurdity escalated as the match morphed into a battle of wits and slips. Sauron’s raw might was undeniable, but Sméagol’s lunatic flailing, powered by his Ring-induced obsession, made him a wildcard wrapped in mud. His cries of “My precious!” rang out, half battle cry, half love sonnet to the absent Ring. Each time Sauron tried to assert dominance, Sméagol used the mud with a creativity that would make a guerrilla fighter nod in respect—a weapon, a shield, a slippery escape tool.

Round 5: As the final round dawned, both figures were now unrecognizable mud monsters. Sauron, frustration oozing from every muddy pore, lunged with a Hail Mary effort that would make a desperate football team wince. But Sméagol, eyes alight with the gleam of the trickster, danced aside with a grace that would’ve earned a 10 in mud-ballet. Sauron’s fall was epic, a titan toppling into the gooey abyss of defeat.

In a move that would be replayed in highlight reels for ages, Sméagol pounced onto the floundering Sauron with the ferocity of a starved lemur. He pinned the Dark Lord with the enthusiasm of someone claiming the last piece of cake. The pit erupted into laughter and cheers as the small, wiry figure of Sméagol stood over a flailing Sauron, victorious against all odds, covered in mud and glory.