Let The Rings of Power Be Forged

I t’s been a while since a new TV show or movie had to work as hard merely to justify its existence as The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power. Amazon’s adaptation of parts of J. R. R. Tolkien’s writings not directly depicted in The Lord of the Rings (and preceding those events by centuries, in-universe) has gotten a unique mix of excitement, curiosity, and scorn since its announcement several years ago, and through its extensive promotion.

For the scorners — and for many of the curious — the dominant emotion through this period seems to have been fear: fear that showrunners J. D. Payne and Patrick McKay, even with all the millions at their disposal, would merely preside over the ruining of another franchise by modern entertainment. In the case of this work specifically, there was concern, amplified by ambiguous or sometimes outright-ominous quotes from those involved in the production, that the intricate lore devised by Tolkien would be junked in favor of modern tropes or — worse — woke pieties. A quote from Tolkien himself began to circulate in YouTube comments and message boards: “Evil cannot create anything new, they can only corrupt and ruin what good forces have invented or made.”

Except this is not, in fact, a quote from Tolkien: It’s from the pop-culture-archetype library TV Tropes. Ignoring the irony of lore purists making up lore of their own to express their concern about possible damage to lore, this concern was understandable. (And Tolkien did express versions of this idea throughout his work, and believed it himself.) Modern pop culture is awash in woke; Tolkien’s work is distinctly anti-modern in virtually all respects; thus, fear that the former would win out over the latter as another studio sought to cash in on available intellectual property was rational. Counting myself in the “curious” category, I evinced some of it.

The first two episodes of The Rings of Power, which premiered earlier this week, do not realize those most hyperbolic of fears. What they have done, instead, is to establish the tests that the series itself will have to pass to succeed. It will have to prove itself reasonably faithful to its source material and, when it must deviate, to do so justifiably, or, at the very least, not profanely. It will have to depict a Middle-Earth that is at once familiar to viewers and novel. And it will have to make the re-emergence and defeat of an evil whose demise is only temporary meaningful nonetheless.

Much of the first two episodes of The Rings of Power is introductory material, establishing the major places, characters, and stories. It begins with a prologue narrated by and focused on the elf Galadriel (Morfydd Clark), one of a handful of immortal characters — played in this series by younger actors — who also appeared on screen in Peter Jackson’s The Lord of the Rings trilogy. It sets up in broad strokes the backdrop of the series: Elves, living in a paradise separate from Middle-Earth, are violated by a great evil that they then leave their homeland to pursue in vengeance, at great cost. Galadriel’s place in this drama, touched by grief, is the focus of the series. Other stories take place across Middle-Earth, and in different races: men, dwarves, and “harfoots.” All of this is depicted lavishly, with the ample sums Amazon has spent visible in every frame, and musical accompaniment, by Bear McCreary, that does not quite — at least, not yet — match the transcendence of Howard Shore’s Lord of the Rings score, but still proves memorable in some instances and serviceable in most others.

Even though these first two episodes are largely introductory, it is still possible to begin assessing the criteria they present for the show’s success. Start with fealty to Tolkien’s creation. The precise nature of this is not well-understood by the public at large, but The Rings of Power has serious stipulations on what events it can depict in what is known as the “Second Age” of Middle-Earth. (Jackson’s trilogy showed the Third Age.) Some creativity and invention, therefore, is necessary, if the series is to exist at all. And where that occurs, deviation is inevitable. The character of Galadriel herself is changed considerably; basic details obtain, but Rings of Power has truly run with Tolkien’s onetime description of her as once having been of “Amazon” disposition (the mythological warrior, not the company; Tolkien wasn’t a psychic) and made her a martial leader of a longtime elvish quest to destroy all traces of evil in Middle-Earth. The choice to focus on her induces inevitable alterations. Are they intolerable? At this point, not yet. The test here is whether what becomes of her character so radically betrays her nature as to render her unrecognizable. The same applies to the show’s relationship to Tolkien as a whole. If this does occur, it will be readily apparent, and will ruin the show beyond its salvaging.

Look now to Middle-Earth itself. This is a place where many of those watching the show — myself included — have already spent much time. For The Rings of Power to succeed, it will have to show this place both as we know it, and as we do not. The events of this series take place centuries before what is currently best-known. Much, therefore, is different from how we remember, even as the timelessness of much involved gives a degree of constancy. We see, for example, the dwarven kingdom of Khazad-Dum — not as a tomb, as in Fellowship of the Ring, but in its full splendor. And we see its people at the height of their power and craft. Durin (Owain Arthur) and Disa (Sophia Nomvete) are a highlight of episode two. In other parts of Middle-Earth, there are men, elves, and, most curiously, harfoots. These proto-hobbits are an outright invention for the series; the hobbits we know do not exist yet. On the whole, the first two episodes succeed in establishing the vastness of this familiar land in an unfamiliar time, and peopling it with an interesting smattering of life. What becomes of the land, and how its people intersect — to make these compelling are the tests The Rings of Power must pass here.

The toughest test of all is for the overarching struggle of The Rings of Power to be meaningful. We already know that the great evil, against which good in this series struggles, survives into a later time. The challenge the show faces is for this struggle to seem of actual import, for our interest in the characters and places involved to be enough that we accept their travails as our own. And for whatever defeat evil ultimately faces to be of, if not final, then at least significant consequence for its own aims and its own power. There is the scope for such a conflict in the material The Rings of Power is likely to cover. But that is no guarantee of success. For one thing, it will have to show both evil and good in forms Tolkien himself would recognize, no mean feat in a time when the culture has so thoroughly confused such matters. It is too soon to tell if The Rings of Power has the moral core necessary to pull this off. It could fail at this in obvious fashion. But it could also fail by persisting in ambiguity.

With these tests established, I think there is, so far, a case for sticking it out to see what The Rings of Power forges. As someone with great fondness for the lore, I understand the purist’s concern about it, and about the other issues that flow from lore fealty (or lack thereof). But it is worth keeping in mind that, in the medium and manner chosen, complete fealty is impossible. Some degree of interpretation and deviation is inevitable. There was plenty of it in Jackson’s trilogy, even with its many admirable qualities. At this point, to complain hyperbolically about the show is to reject its existence — which is fine, but the easy way to solve that problem is not to watch it. I intend to see if The Rings of Power makes something worthy of its inspiration — and, if it does not, to cast the show into the fiery chasm from which it came.