So, I go see a movie. And though I wish I could be a hero, with old man Kenobi whisking me away to a place where I can join an easy good vs. evil fight -- I know it's not that simple. So I have old man Gandalf telling me that it's not for me to choose my burden but just to choose how to bear it. And I have Frodo grotesquely weeping to remind me that as far as burdens go, simply getting up in the morning isn't too bad.

"Star Wars" broke out of its formula only once; that classically Oedipal scene in Cloud City is the pinnacle of it. But like Luke's hand, it dropped into a pit, and the series returns to easy-to-stomach simplicity. As if to drive the point home, the bad guys are ultimately defeated by warrior Care Bears.

That's not a bad thing. After all, these are only movies. And when I just wanted a movie to be a place where bad guys lose comically and you could go from bored teen to messiah in just three movies, well, "Star Wars" fit the bill.

I don't remember what I went into "Lord of the Rings" expecting, other than an unsatisfying image of a Balrog, but I came out with so much more. The film transcended itself and took me to a place I hadn't yet been ready to go. This absurd film of hobbits and dwarves and goblins and orcs said enough things to me about living a real everyday life in 21st century America to make it seem truly possible.

So maybe it's not so much that "Lord of the Rings" is better than "Star Wars," but that "Lord of the Rings" is somehow more real than "Star Wars." And right now, that's what I wanted.

There's a scene at the end of "Fellowship of the Ring" -- easily one of the most powerful in the film, and one that perhaps one day will also take a throne in the annals of cinematic history -- when Frodo's devoted friend Sam risks drowning rather than let his friend head off to certain death alone. In the books we know Sam fears water -- but the movie doesn't delve into that. Jackson focuses instead on Sam's simple devotion: Sam wades into a river after Frodo's boat. Underwater and close to death, we see Sam go limp, until Frodo's arm juts down, grabbing Sam's wrist. There's a pause, then the two hands clasp.

Sam isn't alone in being pulled up from the brink. We were, too. George Lucas knows how to make money better than he does how to make films, and it's clear at this point that Lucas doesn't give a damn about the depth some of us wanted to give to his best movie. It was just a movie, and we should just shut up or move on.

And the nice thing is now we can. Because it's obvious that Peter Jackson is as earnest as, well, Luke Skywalker, and Jackson wants his films to be more than that.

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