It's always difficult to go against the crowd.

In the 2001 holiday season, over many dinners with friends, The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, was a common topic of conversation. When I volunteered that I really didn't care for it, I might well have declared death to Christmas elves.

True—the environmental visual effects in Peter Jackson's film are breathtaking. The performances by veteran thespians Ian McKellen and Ian Holm, and relative newcomers Elijah Wood, Cate Blanchett, Liv Tyler, and Viggo Mortensen, more than keep your attention during the three-hour theatrical experience.

The unrelenting roller coaster ride of this traditional boy quest, however, is predictable, repetitive, and in the end—unsatisfying.

How many times, exactly, do Frodo and his Hobbit pals get themselves into danger, only to fight back, then visit a new land where, once again, they find themselves in danger? I counted six—at least two too many. The final scene successfully sets up the sequel, but leaves viewers (at least, this reviewer) of Jackson's first of the trilogy wanting.

And when friends, who risk inviting me to dinner in the new year, ask: "But did you read the book?" I will take a much-needed breath before answering: "What does my enjoyment of the book have to do with my evaluation of the film?"

After all, I read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. I liked it, but found the film flat. I may have read J. R. R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings twenty years ago (in the 5th grade)—I still don't like the movie.