There and back again. Well, at least part of the way there.

Returning to Middle Earth should feel like slipping into a well-worn cloak, but The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey arrives with a different energy. This is not the brooding, weighty journey of The Lord of the Rings; this is a different beast – or at least, it was meant to be. The 1937 novel is a far slighter tale, a whimsical adventure compared to its sprawling successor, but Peter Jackson has never been one for small stories. And so, The Hobbit is expanded – not just to a trilogy, but to a vast, overarching prologue to The Lord of the Rings, complete with new subplots, additional characters, and a deeper dive into the dark undercurrents that the book only hinted at.

It’s an ambitious approach, and whether or not it’s entirely necessary is up for debate. What’s not in question is Jackson’s sincerity – this isn’t a cash-in, it’s a committed effort to elevate The Hobbit from a charming standalone into the opening movement of a six-film Middle Earth symphony.

But does it work? Yes… mostly.

There’s a palpable sense of indulgence, particularly in the first act. An Unexpected Journey luxuriates in Bag End for a full hour, establishing Bilbo, the dwarves, and the quest with an abundance of singing, eating, and good-natured grumbling. The extended introduction allows for rich characterisation – Martin Freeman’s Bilbo is immediately wonderful and seamlessly connects to Ian Holm’s older incarnation, and Ian McKellen, slipping back into Gandalf’s robes, remains the wise, mischievous heart of the story – but it’s also the first sign that this is going to be a long journey.

Once the company sets out, the film begins to take shape. The trolls are a delight, capturing the book’s comedic tone without undercutting the stakes, and their scene is one of the rare moments where the adaptation feels lean and precise. Then there’s Rivendell, rendered with the same ethereal beauty as before, but now with added White Council intrigue – one of Jackson’s significant additions. These scenes, tying Galadriel, Elrond, and Saruman into the growing shadow over Middle Earth, are emblematic of the film’s approach: expanding The Hobbit to fit within the mythic sweep of The Lord of the Rings, rather than letting it stand as its own, lighter adventure. It’s a bold choice, and while some may find it an unnecessary deviation, there’s something compelling about seeing the edges of the wider story begin to take shape.

Then there’s Radagast. Sylvester McCoy is clearly having fun, and his frantic, bird-poop-bedecked eccentricity isn’t without charm, but his scenes – particularly a rabbit-powered chase sequence – feel a little at odds with everything else. However, his role in uncovering the corruption at Dol Guldur is another example of Jackson’s commitment to welding these films together. It’s an attempt to provide a throughline, to connect Bilbo’s adventure with the larger storm brewing on the horizon, as well as colour in some of the more neglected corners of Gandalf’s world away from the Shire.

By the time An Unexpected Journey reaches the Misty Mountains, the film is in full stride. The goblin tunnels are a frenetic mess of swinging bridges and whirling blades, and while it occasionally veers into theme park ride territory, it’s undeniably fun. But the true centrepiece, the sequence that justifies the entire film, is Bilbo’s meeting with Gollum. Andy Serkis, returning to his most iconic role, delivers a performance that is both mesmerising and deeply unsettling. The Riddles in the Dark sequence is played with masterful tension – Freeman and Serkis make it a battle of wits that is thrilling in its quiet intensity, a stark contrast to the CGI bombast of the goblin chase that follows. It’s also the moment when Bilbo fully emerges as a protagonist. His choice to spare Gollum is beautifully handled, capturing the quiet moral weight that will ripple through the saga to come.

Richard Armitage’s Thorin is suitably intense, though at this stage, he’s more brooding warrior than tragic king. His arc is only just beginning, and the film works hard to establish his grudge against Azog – another major addition. While the CGI albino orc lacks the practical weight of The Lord of the Rings’ Uruk-hai, he serves his purpose as a looming threat, setting up a vendetta that will run through the trilogy. Whether he was strictly needed is another question, but Jackson clearly wants a clear antagonist to push against.

The finale, with the company treed by Wargs before Thorin charges Azog in slow motion, is pure Jackson – dramatic, slightly overblown, but undeniably rousing. The eagles swoop in, rescue everyone, and deposit them on a convenient cliffside, where Thorin has a moment of grudging respect for Bilbo. Then, in classic Jackson fashion, the film ends not with a clean resolution, but with a sweeping shot of the Lonely Mountain, a golden eye cracking open beneath its depths.

An Unexpected Journey is, at times, an unwieldy film. It lingers too long in places, pads where it doesn’t need to, and adds layers of lore that may not be entirely necessary. But for all its indulgences, it is unmistakably Middle Earth, and that is no small thing. Jackson isn’t just retelling The Hobbit – he’s reforging it into something bigger, something that bridges the gap between two trilogies. Whether it needed to be three films remains to be seen, but one thing is certain: the journey is well underway.