I remember watching this late at night on black and white TV, long before a live-action version was so much as a twinkle in Peter Jackson's eye... and being very impressed. Finally getting my hands this week on a VHS copy that was being thrown away (and isn't that just par for the course..?) I had the chance to revisit this film, and found that it still stands up quite well, although it's not quite the success that memory had painted.
I have to confess to a certain bias here. Some reviewers announce themselves as confirmed Jackson-lovers, others as Jackson-haters; I'm not exactly either. I was a devotee of the BBC Radio adaptation by Brian Sibley originally broadcast in 1981, and instantly recognised the voice of Gollum here -- Peter Woodthorpe would reprise this performance almost note-perfect for the radio three years later.
I must say, however, that where I found Jackson's films an increasingly indulgent disappointment, the Bakshi version, for all that it has been cut to the bone, is actually more accurate. Yes, there are the usual, understandable changes (here it is Legolas rather than Arwen who is substituted for Glorfindel as the Elf sent from Rivendell to meet the party) and there is a great deal of telescoping of the action. (The only exception to the latter, as others have remarked, is the oddly extended sequence at the ford of Rivendell, where the Ringwraiths, having demonstrated a chilling ability to freeze and draw back Frodo in mid-flight -- which they deploy again when he defies them after crossing the river -- then for some unexplained reason simply chase after him in a prolonged straight gallop, which is initially nightmarish but pointless, plot-wise, and definitely goes on too long.) I would also agree that the Balrog is unsatisfactory, due partly to bad animation, and that Gandalf windmills his arms too much.
But having watched both approaches to the film, I feel more than ever that the animated route is the one to take. In a tale that is half-myth (oddly enough, one thing that is included is a snippet of Aragorn's story of Beren and Luthien) the extreme literalism required by live-action filming, where everything from monsters to mail-shirts has to be created in detail to appear on camera, is counter-productive: latex-faced (or CGI) monsters are less monstrous than sketchily-drawn shapes, heroic costumes tend to look rather silly worn on real bodies, and hobbits or dwarfs with non-human body proportions are easy to animate but hard to film convincingly. Many reviewers have cited the sniffing Ringwraith in the woods, with its crippled, half-human movements, as one of the scariest moments in the film -- it certainly frightened me silly when I saw it for the first time alone in the dark!
The extreme stylisation of the introduction (plus a voice-over done with great skill and economy to sum up the back-story in a few sentences) works very well to depict an almost mythical era, and the change to the comic-book rusticism of the Shire -- I particularly like the Proudfeet -- corresponds effectively to the similar change in tone of Tolkien's prose. I did feel that there were some missed opportunities where the potential of animation could have been used to great effect: Gandalf threatening Bilbo with his true power in the opening scenes, Bilbo seeming to become a Gollum-like creature under the influence of Ring-lust at Rivendell, and Galadriel's famous temptation speech all were drawn more or less straight, where it would have been trivial to distort the scene to reflect the hobbits' changed perceptions. But generally speaking the changes in detail and palette -- firelight hues at Bree, bright colours re-emerging at Rivendell and in the Fangorn clearing, dirty greys and browns for Moria and the desolate lands -- work well to reflect the mood of the various episodes, where a live-action approach simply doesn't allow you to blur the background or sketch in a stylised setting.
As a fan I didn't care for either Jackson's or Bakshi's depiction of Lothlorien -- again, I feel that the radio soundscape was the best evocation I've come across of a beautiful, slightly uncanny woodland paradise caught out of time -- and I feel that Bakshi got the elven singing at this point pretty badly wrong, but I do like the little montage at this point showing the various members of the Company relaxing together after their travails in Moria. Aragorn giving a hobbit-fencing-lesson here is as charming (and equally uncanonical) a spectacle as Boromir engaging with the hobbits in Hollin in the Jackson version.
The depiction of Aragorn as convincingly weatherworn Ranger is good throughout this film (Viggo Mortensen's scruffy Jesus look really didn't work for me), although it would have been interesting to see how they planned to 'clean up' the character in the second half for Gondor's benefit. John Hurt, unsurprisingly, gives a sterling vocal performance, as does a resonant William Squire in the part of Gandalf. The hobbits are, I suspect, intended to reflect contemporary youth as audience-identification figures: I find the animated style (their proportions are much more 'cartoonish' than those of the human characters) works well to differentiate them, and the whole 'hairy feet' thing as drawn here comes across as much more plausible than in more literal depictions, including much fan art.
Personally I have less objection to Boromir as Viking -- he was always a fairly bludgeoning type -- than to beardy-Aragorn (illogical: they were both Numenorians, after all), although I am clearly in a minority here!
The big flaw in this picture is always going to be the fact that it was an unfinished project, with a bizarre tacked-on voice-over ending attempting to resolve matters. A pity; it would have been interesting, not to mention less frustrating, to see what Bakshi planned to make of Shelob and Minas Tirith, never mind the Dead...

"A Damsel in Distress" is definitely not one of Fred Astaire's better musicals. But even Astaire's bad films always had some good moments.
In "Damsel," Astaire is Jerry Halliday, an American musical star who is in London on a personal appearance tour. He meets Lady Alice Marshmorton (19-year-old Joan Fontaine), a beautiful English heiress, who hops into the back of a cab he is taking to escape a mob of admirers.
Jerry believes that Alice is being forced into a marriage by her rich aunt. He tries to rescue her from her family's country manor house, but soon discovers that the house staff is laying bets on which suitor Lady Alice will marry. Keggs (Reginald Gardiner) the conniving butler, and Albert (Harry Watson), the bratty house boy, each take turns alternately helping and sabotaging Lady Alice's romance with Jerry to make sure they win the bet.
This musical has numerous problems. First, there is the plot, based on a novel by P.G. Wodehouse (who co-wrote the screenplay). The story is slow, painful, and nerve-grating. When Fred is not dancing, we have to endure endless annoying scenes of (a) Fred romancing Joan Fontaine or (b) Keggs and Albert conniving against them and each other.
The butler and the house boy are especially irritating. They are one-dimensional stock villain characters, the kind of guys you just want to punch in the mouth. You wish they would get off the screen and let Fred dance.
Astaire suffers in the absence of his usual partner, Ginger Rogers. Joan Fontaine is a lackluster leading lady in this film, and is miscast in a musical. She has little going for her, character-wise, other than her lovely face and beautiful smile.
George Burns and Gracie Allen are along for the ride, as Jerry's publicist and his ditzy secretary. The duo adds some sorely needed chemistry to the plot, and Gracie has some funny lines, but she is also very annoying at times.
The direction of the movie by George Stevens is not well done. At times, the cinematography is horrible and off-focus. There are a number of outdoor scenes set on extremely foggy streets, to try to convince the audience that we are in London, not Hollywood. (They must have used tons of dry ice in this movie.) On the plus side, the songs by George and Ira Gershwin are terrific, and have become classic song standards. And of course, the dancing in the movie is exceptional, thanks to Astaire and his choreographer, Hermes Pan.
But the musical and dance numbers are ill-used and ill-staged. At times, the cast seems to start singing and dancing because, well, it's time for them to start singing and dancing. The musical numbers seem randomly inserted into the meandering plot. (At one point, the butler steps outside the manor house and breaks into an operetta solo for no clear reason.) The numbers include:  "I'm Dancing and I Can't Be Bothered Now" -- Fred dances well on a foggy traffic-filled London street. He does some great "cane-twirling" with a rolled umbrella -- but the number ends too soon when Fred jumps on a passing double-decker bus. (In the Broadway musical, "Crazy For You," Harry Groener did a much better version of this number with a group of chorus girls.)
 "Put Me To The Test" -- Fred, George, and Gracie do a trio tap dance in an English cottage. George and Gracie match Fred step for step, but the number ends poorly with everyone kicking each other for no reason.
 "Stiff Upper Lip" (The Fun House Number) -- At an amusement park fun house, Fred, George, and Gracie have fun dancing on the revolving floor, rotating barrel, and with the fun house mirrors. It's the best number of the movie, but it gets a little repetitious at times.
 "Things Are Looking Up" -- Fred and Joan Fontaine do their one dance number together in the film, prancing around the back woods of the country manor estate. Fortunately, it's a very simple dance number because Joan is not a great dancer.
 "A Foggy Day in London Town" -- Fred wanders around the foggy manor estate at night, crooning about the foggy day when he first met Joan in London. At times, he looks as if he's not sure which way he's going in the fog -- much like the musical number itself.
 "Nice Work If You Can Get It" -- A great song that is misused in the movie. During a social event at the manor house, Fred gets drawn into a chorus of dour-faced singers who are haphazardly singing this song. Each time Fred joins in, the other singers look at him as if they wish he would leave. (Again, Harry Groener did a better dance number with this song in "Crazy For You.")  "Drum Dance Number" -- As Fred and Joan are eloping, Fred has to stop and do one final tap dance number while banging a group of drums. As usual, it's a great dance number. But there's absolutely no need for it, except to prolong the movie.
The most contrived moment in the film comes when Fred decides to leap off a high stone balcony at the country estate in order to prove his love for Joan Fontaine. As he leaps from the balcony, he finds a conveniently-placed trapeze -- that's right, a *trapeze* -- hanging from a nearby tree. Fred (or rather, a stuntman in Fred's clothes) grabs the trapeze and swings to the ground from it.
The movie is worth owning on DVD for the dance numbers alone, but you feel indebted to the guy who invented the Fast Forward button on your remote. The >>FF button allows you to skip through the other, boring scenes in the film to get to the dance numbers.