Greater accessibility to high quality production hardware and software has allowed for a better class of fan film in recent years, to the point where some can be convincing as professional films. My personal disagreements with the artistic direction of The Hunt for Gollum and Born of Hope aside, there’s no denying the huge amount of work and expense poured into their production. Howard fandom’s own accomplishments, such as The Return of Sir Richard Grenville and Robert E. Howard’s Cimmeria, are rather more modest affairs, but it still show how even amateur productions can result in something special.

Joining Tolkien & Howard in the list of fantasy fan films is Terry Pratchett. I’m a great admirer of Terry Pratchett, who manages to be irreverent without being spiteful, with his lampoons carrying a genuine affection for their targets. I haven’t read most of his recent works–in fact, the most recent of his novels I’ve read is Carpe Jugulum, though I did read the illustrated novella The Last Hero. Indeed, I seem to be part of the minority in preferring his early works over his later ones. I guess I find the likes of Mort, Pyramids and the Rincewind stories have a more anarchic, energetic edge over the middle period for which he is most famed.

At his best, Pratchett has the uncanny ability to combine two disparate points of view at once. The Colour of Magic is at once mocking, yet also affectionate of the more groan-worthy cliches of fantastic fiction: the faux-Lovecraftian nasties, talking swords, barbarians, dragons, the matter of “what makes a good story” overriding plausibility (which is even given an omnipresent element, “narrativium,” the presence of which allows for things like one-in-a-million chances working nine times out of ten, or for certain characters to avoid what should be certain death, or just plain bizarre coincidence). Jingo manages to be full of gung-ho blood and thunder adventure, while also being a damning indictment of the madness of war. My favourite example is Small Gods, which is simultaneously affirming to both deeply theistic and staunchly agnostic points of view, a balance I would’ve thought completely impossible, not to mention it features a tortoise as one of the main characters. I like tortoises.

At first glance, Pratchett’s Discworld seems even less suited than the former two, being far more full of elaborate creatures, effects and costume design. Thus far, there have been a few attempts to film tales of Discworld. Cosgrove Hall produced Wyrd Sisters and Soul Music, both of which were highly faithful to their respective sources, and both of which featuring the absolute stroke of genius in casting Christopher Lee as the iconic Death. The UK’s Sky One adapted Hogfather and The Colour of Magic (which also throws in The Light Fantastic for completeness) were also highly accurate, far more so than certain other franchises, though the live-action films suffered a bit from the anemic “Hallmark” effect.

A Discworld adaptation is thus a highly daunting task for a professional film company, let alone a group of enthusiastic amateurs. Nonetheless, Snowgum Films has taken up the challenge to bring the big plate-onna-turtle to life: specifically, the 1993 short story “Troll Bridge,” featuring the inimitable Cohen the Barbarian.

Though there are many characters and stories that I love from the series, I have a special place in my heart for Cohen. On the surface, he appears to be little more than a shallow parody of the barbarian archetype: a big dumb (old in this case) barbarian, famed across the world for the usual Sword-and-Sorcery hero fare, distrustful of civilization & its hypocrisies, and eternally clad in a leather loincloth regardless of the weather and clime. So far, so generic. Yet unlike so many–including Pratchett’s own Hrun of Chimeria, which was basically about as insightful a parody as Conan the Librarian–Cohen is a bit more involved. He shows sparks of cunning & intelligence no doubt dulled a bit by advanced age, he’s stealthy & strategic as well as strong, and even engages in philosophical musings every so often. Though some would suppose the idea of Conan engaging in existential musings over the changing nature of the world, the vagaries of civilization and society, and metaphysical conundrums a deconstruction, one need only read “Queen of the Black Coast” and “The Tower of the Elephant” to see how far from the truth such a depiction is. I get the uncanny impression that, if he indeed lived to an appreciable age, Conan and Cohen would have an awful lot in common, though the Cimmerian seems to have far less trouble adapting to a changing world than the silver-haired wanderer. I’d just put it down to age, personally.

So on to Troll Bridge. The story is a simple enough one, the sort that might form a vignette in one of Pratchett’s books. Cohen, wearied from a world where monsters and magic are waning, plans to finally undertake the greatest challenge which will likely be the death of him: mortal combat with a bridge troll. However, as with anything Pratchett does, this will hardly end up as the usual fantasy story does. In an interesting echo of “The Tower of the Elephant,” Cohen does not slay the troll, or even battle him: instead, the two start to talk.

The trailer shows that the story appears to be expanded considerably. We see Cohen in the prime of his life, all musclebound and mighty thewed, presumably a flashback to the ancient, forgotten war alluded to in the story. I’m unsure what to think about this: Cohen has always been a crotchety old man, and seeing him otherwise might be a bad idea. Hopefully the depiction of young Cohen will bear more similarities to his literary cousin, and not the blundering dunderhead of pop culture, though seeing as his costume appears to be practically duplicated from Conan the Destroyer, my prognosis is not optimistic in that regard. Time will tell if these additions will enhance or detract, though if previous Discworld forays into the cinematic medium are anything to go by, I don’t think Pratchett will be displeased.