The changes made to The Rings Of Power, however, serve little fathomable purpose. Chief among these remains the compressed timeline, squeezing thousands of years of Tolkien’s Second Age of Middle-earth down into just one period of months or years. This is compounded by the second big change: The chronology is simply abandoned entirely in the process.

While I do think some compression is necessary when turning a several-thousand-year era into a five-season television show, altering the chronology fundamentally breaks the story itself. The Three elven rings were created first at the end of Season 1, and this throws off the rest of Annatar and Celebrimbor’s story in Season 2, which had the most potential of any of the various plots to actually work.

There is also no reason to leap ahead and place Elendil and Isildur and the fall of Númenor as a contemporaneous saga rather than introduce these stories in a later season after a time-jump. With five seasons, both the forging of the Rings and the fall of Númenor could have been told in chronological order—the former across Seasons 1 and 2, the latter across Seasons 3 and 4—with the immortal elves and Sauron existing across both. The final season could have been all about the Last Alliance and the downfall of Sauron.

Other changes to lore weaken the story almost as badly, such as bringing in characters like Tom Bombadil and fundamentally altering their very nature. But perhaps the most egregious character changes to lore occur between Galadriel and Sauron, who fans of the show have been “shipping” since the beginning—first as Halbrand and Galadriel, and in the second season as Sauron and Galadriel. There are even articles devoted to championing this bizarre fling, claiming that it’s “better” than what Tolkien wrote. It becomes more and more clear that the show was created not for fans of Tolkien’s work, not for those fans who enjoy reading books, but for the TikTok generation.

There are far too many lore-breaking changes to list here, but the problem with these and with all variations on the source material is not that there are changes to begin with, but that they serve no narrative purpose. They do not enhance the Second Age for the small screen but rather alter it completely for the worse, undermining not merely Tolkien’s lore but the narrative structure of a good story—even a generic fantasy story. This is the difference between Jackson’s films and The Rings Of Power. Why make the rings this terrifying thing, for instance, when prior to the forging of the One Ring they were seen as objects of beauty and power for good? Here, we have the dwarves already on the verge of civil war because of Durin III’s ring, with Disa—who is always just as right as the sea—warning everyone from the get-go that they’re bad, when she was the one who suggested they craft them to begin with? When Galadriel finds Celebrimbor, she asks “More rings?” in a dire tone, as though it’s the worst thing imaginable. Celebrimbor shouldn’t even know that Annatar is bad at this point, or at the very least he should only suspect. And there was no Adar to sack eregion—that was Sauron, years later, after he forged his own ring.

And just look at what they’ve done to the elves, who lack all the might and majesty of Tolkien’s work and who fall easily to their orc counterparts (who now fight bravely for their families) and do not inspire fear or awe in their enemies.

While Jackson made choices that I personally disagree with, he clearly made those with care, always hewing to the spirit of Tolkien’s work and values. I would still love to see an animated series of The Lord Of The Rings that stuck as closely to the original text as possible, but Jackson was working with a film trilogy and made the best decisions he could. The creators of The Rings Of Power had an even more daunting task, crafting a series out of what amounts to a history rather than a narrative, but this also meant that they had a lot more room to make changes and additions that made sense, fleshing out the timeline rather than running roughshod over it. In the end, in both seasons, they failed miserably.

2. There Are Too Many Storylines And Too Many Characters

Valandil The Dead

Credit: Amazon
Remember Valandil and his tragic death at the hands of the smirking Kemen? If you don’t, I wouldn’t blame you. Valandil is a Númenorean who was ostensibly friends with Isildur in the first season, though he spent most of the time being mad at him for silly reasons. In Season 2 he’s stabbed in the back by Kemen during an altercation over infrastructure. The show’s writers have done next to nothing to make us actually care about Valandil at this point, mostly because he was just one of a huge ensemble cast that barely has room for character development of any kind. Even a “main” character like Arondir has next to no arc, virtually no lines, and seems to exist solely to do Legolas-like acrobatics in combat. Then there is Rian, the elf archer who is given Boromir’s death during the siege of Eregion, as though anyone has gotten to know her character enough to care how or that she dies to begin with. It’s almost as if they planned to give Arondir a heroic death, chickened out, and gave it to a bit character instead.

Much of this stems from the lore changes and the compressed timelines. We have too many storylines and each is filled with too many characters not just to keep track of, but to actually care about—unless you’re in the Modern Audience Club, where caring about characters on social media is more about filling in the blanks and then posting garish memes and overly dramatic proclamations about your feelings than actually being made to feel in the first place.

Not only are we following Annatar and Celebrimbor this season, we also must follow the garbled Númenor plot and its bizarre politics which seem to rely mostly on animals showing up at very specific times and places. The Harfoot story ended just in time to conjure the Stoors, an even more irritating group of pre-Shire Hobbits. A new bad guy has popped up over in Rhun in the form of The Dark Wizard (I guess names are just hard when it comes to wizards) and his Tatooine bounty hunters. Then there are the dwarves and their constant bickering, the elves—Elrond, Gil-Galad, Galadriel, Cirdan plus new names and faces—and their constant bickering, and the entire Isildur / Theo / Estrid plotline, which is a mix of bickering and yet another romance nobody cares about outside of social media.

If I’m forgetting anyone, forgive me. There are far too many characters and plot threads to keep up with, let alone effectively weave into a story. The only reason Game Of Thrones got away with it for so long is its adherence to the source material, but even George R.R. Martin eventually got lost in his sprawling cast of characters. My pet theory for his tardiness with The Winds Of Winter is that he introduced far, far too many POV characters, and juggling these became a Herculean task. It is always better to focus on fewer stories and characters we grow to care about than to make audiences juggle a sprawling cast just because it’s “epic.”

Once again, simply sticking to the chronology would have made this much more manageable, as we could have saved Númenor and its cast for the third season onward, while dispensing with any mortal characters from Seasons 1 and 2.

3. There Is No Attention To Detail Or Plausibility

Durin III

Credit: Amazon
I will have to do a bit of my own compression here, as the list would get very long indeed if I went over every line item that fit into this category. I will just hand pick a few instances where the lack of attention to detail, or ignoring the importance of internal logic and plausibility, negatively impacted Season 2.

One of the better moments in this season took place when Durin IV discovered the Balrog, but he did so by “mining” through an incredibly thin wall in Khazad-dûm, the subterranean mountain city of the dwarves. This isn’t how mining works! It’s incredibly goofy. When Disa drops her orb earlier in the season, it rolls out of the bustling market into a cavern that apparently no dwarf has ever discovered before—just fifty feet away. Little lazy details like this illustrate just how hurried the script often feels, as though the writers have no regard whatsoever for creating a believable world and are simply rushing to each destination. Also, the dwarven rings are garish ring-pops. Whoever came up with the design understands nothing of the aesthetic of Middle-earth.
The worst example of all comes in the battle of Eregion, where virtually nothing makes sense whatsoever. Small bands of orcs pull massive siege engines with ease. These engines are able to knock down mountaintops (that weren’t present in Season 1) to almost instantly dam a river—but apparently have a hard time knocking down the city walls. The ace in the orc horde’s hole is a single troll that is taken down with relative ease. The elven cavalry charge ends magically when Elrond spots Galadriel imprisoned by Adar. And other magical moments happen, such as Adar stabbing Arondir in the gut and leaving him to die, only for the sturdy elf to emerge the next episode completely healed. Twas but a scratch!
I’m including the constant use of callbacks, memberberries and Easter Eggs in this portion, because they show both a lack of originality and undermine the believability of the story. The encounter between Gandalf and Bombadil is perhaps where these are most egregious, though there are plenty to choose from. Cribbing lines from The Lord Of The Rings—or entire scenes, such as Gandalf being devoured by a tree just like the hobbits are by Old Man Willow, who is then freed from that tree by Tom, just like in The Fellowship Of The Ring—does not make the story feel more Tolkienesque. Every one of these rips away my immersion into this story, reminding us instead of a far better one. The modern tendency to use callbacks in place of original storytelling is a blight—what should be fun little references used sparingly have become ugly crutches used to excite impressionable social media users.
Middle-earth has no sense of scale. Fast-travel is a big problem, but so is a lack of basic world-building. Numenor is . . . just over there a ways. A quick sea voyage. Rhun is over that hill, not far from the Harfoot migration. Mordor to Eregion is a leisurely stroll. It all ends up feeling small and cramped in ways that Jackson’s films never did, and certainly Tolkien’s books—which make the Shire feel so very, very far from Rivendell, let alone Gondor, let alone Orodruin itself—go to great length to convey the vastness of it all, in ways this show never bothers.

Like I said, I could continue pulling up example after example, from the fast travel to the inexplicable decision to send the elves to Eregion on foot (slow travel to balance out all the fast travel) to the dwarves sending an army to Eregion after they encountered the monstrous Balrog to the entire Númenorean storyline—where its people vacillate between Al-Pharazon and Miriel based on the appearance of an eagle and a squid and a scroll—but this post would grow far too long. We’ll move on to . . .

4. The Dialogue Is Somehow Both Wooden And Florid In Turn

Celebrimbor

Credit: Amazon
One of the most perplexing reactions I’ve seen to criticism of modern television—whether it’s The Acolyte or The Rings Of Power or any other divisive show or movie—is people downplaying “bad writing.” There are memes out there making fun of people who point out poorly written scripts, and this entire legion of fans who claim that anyone who accuses a series of being poorly written is arguing in bad faith. But bad writing is a tangible thing that we can point to with examples quite easily, whether it’s the use of fast travel or wild conveniences (like Galadriel running into Sauron on a raft in the middle of the ocean). Then there is the dialogue. When it’s not being ripped off wholesale from Lord of the Rings, this show is constantly trying and failing to sound like Tolkien—an effort that might have been better achieved had Amazon hired experienced British writers instead of inexperienced American writers.

Take the scene between Elendil and Miriel when the former is imprisoned. It’s trying very hard to be Braveheart, but for reasons known only to those present in the writing room at the time, Elendil caps it off with “The sea is always right.” I also genuinely enjoyed many of the scenes with Annatar and Celebrimbor, but had to scoff out loud when Celebrimbor—very gravely—tells his captor, “You . . . are the lord of the rings.” I mean, really guys? Why not take it further and say “You are the lord of the rings of power”?

Then we have Bombadil telling Gandalf—who gets his name by way of hobbits calling him Grand-Elf—that “A wizard does not find his staff, the staff finds the wizard” which is plucked directly out of Harry Potter.

Then we have examples of the script going overboard. Take Celebrimbor’s line to Galadriel as he urges her to take the rings and run, while he will go back with a small handful of guards to face Sauron.

“But perhaps, the elves need only remember that it is not strength that overcomes darkness, but light,” he says, which isn’t a bad line on its own. But then the show must add more lines, spoken very slowly, so that they can show the battle going on while he monologues over dramatic music. If it feels dramatic, it must be, right? The elven smith continues, in a way that nobody would actually talk in these circumstances: “Armies may rise . . . hearts may fail . . .yet still light endures . . . And is mightier than strength . . .For in its presence, all darkness must flee.” Imagine someone talking to you like this in the middle of a bloody battle with fire and death all around you.

This show loves a bit of monologuing to go over a montage. The most galling by far is the totally unearned speech that Poppy gives to the Stoors and Nori and Gandalf, urging them to just call it quits. When Nori insists that they “fix” the Stoor village, she says:

“After my family . . . Mr. Burrows sat me down, told me some things can’t be fixed. Some things lost are lost forever.” We see the dwarves mourning their king, Elrond watching the last remnants of Eregion fall. “No matter how hard we fight,” Poppy continues over the dramatic score, “how much it hurts . . . or how much our hearts yearn . . . to put them back together . . . cuz this world’s so much bigger than any of us.” We see Miriel in chains, Isildur in a ship. “And sometimes the winds blowin’ against us are just too strong. At those times, Mr. Burrows said, we’ve just got to accept it. What’s broke is broke and won’t fix. And all anybody can do is try and build something new.” We see Elendil riding away, Sauron looking grim.

This is not only treacly and unearned, it is perhaps the least inspiring speech I’ve ever heard. It’s an obvious attempt to give Poppy a Sam moment, but other than smashing face with a goofy Stoor, what exactly has Poppy done to earn it? And why is her message basically “Nah, we just have to give up now!” The whole thing is followed by Poppy saying “Don’t be a stranger” to Gandalf and then multiple Stoors calling Gandalf “Grand-Elf” so that he can finally get his name. I could go on and on, but the list would be far too long.

“Go back to the shadow!” Galadriel hisses at the orcs, just ripping off line after line from Lord of the Rings. It’s certainly my sentiment when it comes to this show’s writing.

5. There Are No Stakes

Isildur and Estrid

Credit: Amazon
Ultimately, The Rings Of Power leaves us cold because there are no stakes. Without stakes, we feel nothing. This is always a problem with prequels. After all, audiences know at least the broad strokes of what’s going to happen in the end. But a well-crafted prequel will impress us with its own story and characters, giving us more than just mystery boxes, but rather fascinating arcs that surprise us while enriching the stories that come after. Look no further than Better Call Saul for a true masterclass at prequeling. We all know how Breaking Bad ends, but this never diminishes Saul Goodman’s story in the prequel because we learn so much more about him and the people in his life before Walter White ever darkened his doorstep. The new characters, like Kim Wexler, Saul’s brother Chuck, the drug dealer with a heart of gold, Nacho, and Howard and Lalo and also the return characters like Mike, are all complex, and their fates are mostly uncertain. We care what happens to them, often more than what happens to Saul himself.

In Rings Of Power, anyone who has any knowledge of The Lord Of The Rings knows that this all ends with Sauron’s temporary defeat and Isildur taking the One Ring as his own, thus guaranteeing all the tragedy that follows. We know where Elrond and Galadriel end up. The failure to create a version of young Isildur that makes us really care and root for him is one of this show’s most dire failings. The show’s attempts at crafting interesting original characters all fall flat.

Even around the margins of the bigger story, it’s hard to care much about what befalls each character. It is the Valandil problem spread out across every arc. We don’t care what happens to the Harfoots because they feel so ancillary to the larger story. We don’t care about what happens to Númenor, because everyone there is a selfish idiot. I’ve said it before, but for the fall of this great civilization to work, it has to be great to begin with, and this version is anything but. When main characters have enough plot armor to survive massive falls, swords to the gut and the might of every Dark Wizard thrown at them, stakes become meaningless. Beyond Bronwyn dying off-screen and Valandil and the last hurrah of Durin III, what major character has perished on this show? You can’t kill Galadriel (character assassination doesn’t count) or Elrond. There’s no way they’re offing Nori or Disa. Arondir can survive anything. Berek is by far the best character on the show, so I don’t want him to die. So where’s the tension? Celebrimbor is dead, but this was never in doubt and the impact of his death is watered down by the rushed, garbled version of his story.

When the show attempts to create high stakes, like the toppling of Miriel in Númenor, they reverse that decision with barely a conflict, and then reverse the reversal an episode later. Imagine if in Game Of Thrones, Joffrey rose to power one episode only to have Robb Stark take King’s Landing the next thanks to the arrival of a giant pigeon, only to have him ousted the episode after that because Joffrey swam with some divinatory dolphins in Blackwater Bay. It sounds preposterous, but that’s the Numenor arc in a nutshell.

I’ve gone on long enough. This is a non-exhaustive list of the many problems holding The Rings Of Power back not just from greatness, but from even resembling Tolkien’s work. It is barely fan-fiction at this point. More like bad, dollar store cosplay worn by someone who has never attempted cosplay before but has a big budget and a bad sense of fashion. It is a tale told by idiots, signifying nothing—to borrow a phrase from a better work. I can’t wait for Season 3!

What did you think of The Rings Of Power Season 2? Let me know on Twitter, Instagram or Facebook. Also be sure to subscribe to my YouTube channel and follow me here on this blog. Sign up for my newsletter for more reviews and commentary on entertainment and culture.

Links to my episodic reviews below:

Episode 8 Review
Episode 7 Review
Episode 6 Review
Episode 5 Review
Episode 4 Review
3-Part Premiere Review

At least we get one silver-lining out of all of this, and that is Charlie Hopkinson’s delightful “Gandalf Roasts” videos. If you haven’t checked out his channel, please do. It is a healing balm for those of us who have endured this shabby mockery of Tolkien’s work.