The universe of The Lord of the Rings is extremely complicated. There are Valar and Maiar, magical trees everywhere, rings of ambiguous power, and at least two dark lords who want to plunge the world into chaos. One thing that JRR Tolkien always made clear in his universe, however, is the difference between the right side and the evil side. Good people may be tempted by the forces of darkness, but ultimately the morality of The Lord of the Rings has always been black and white, a fundamental imperative for a story whose core is simply good versus evil. That is precisely why it is so strange that the prequel series, The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Powerinsists on giving all of his characters moral gray areas.
It is not alone in this trend. For the past 15 years, movies and television have been obsessed with moral ambiguity. Walter White was pushed into the abyss by an unjust system, everyone in game of Thrones Their ideals have been compromised by the realities of the world, and in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, you can’t throw a stone without hitting a villain who we’re supposed to believe made a few good points. There was a time when these blurred lines between right and wrong felt like a sign of maturity, an indication that what we were seeing was for adults and not children. But now that this has become the default state for most shows and movies, it’s too often hollow and obligatory. Moral ambiguity has become a cheap way to cover up a story that has nothing meaningful to say, and superficial flaws have become a cover for characters who are too shallow to make concepts like morality even seem relevant. Ergo, it should be self-explanatory why 0=The Rings of Power has invested so much in the concept.
This problem was definitely present in the first season of the show, but by the first three episodes of the second season, it’s impossible to ignore. The entire series, it seems, is built around moral gray areas that seem at odds with the universe it’s set in. It’s as if the writers are convinced that small mistakes and human errors are the key to identification, and that identification is important for all characters. Scene after scene, the characters debate the morality of certain questions that seem clear. It’s one thing to know that the elves freely used Sauron’s Rings of Power when they didn’t know who created them, but after an entire scene devoted to them being the tools of the enemy, watching the elves put the rings on anyway seemed ridiculous, a sudden introduction of “the end justifies the means” that was simply alien to Tolkien’s world, and that was clearly intentional.
Take, for example, the completely inconsistent portrayal of Sauron in the series. The Rings of Power seems obsessed with the question of why we want to see Sauron play when he’s evil through and through. The answer is actually quite simple: sometimes evil is interesting. Far from the childishness sometimes associated with good-versus-evil stories, a well-told story that comes as close to a real evil as Sauron would be fascinating and terrifying. Watching him poke fun at the subtle insecurities of some of Middle-earth’s most legendary heroes and exploit their weaknesses could be beautifully tragic, a Tolkien-esque reminder that anyone can succumb to temptation. Instead, showrunners JD Payne and Patrick McKay have chosen to make Sauron vaguely human, adding bitter tones, like his surprise that Celebrimbor would mislead Gil-galad, or the confusing scene in which he is seemingly deceived by Adar early in the second season.
It’s the kind of choice that makes perfect sense on paper as a sign of prestige television. Again, all of the best shows of the last decade have complicated characters and understandable villains, full of flaws and imperfections. But in practice, adding superficial traits like this to Sauron doesn’t help deepen his character; it just weakens everyone around him. Their inability to see through his botched plan doesn’t feel like they’ve been duped by a master of evil, a powerful demigod who literally exists as a higher order of being than them, but more like they’ve been duped by an idiot because they’re just a little bit dumber themselves.
This kind of pseudo-morality is introduced throughout the series. A subplot barely mentioned in episode 3 deals with the Orcs’ fears of the return of Sauron. Adar approaches this with genuine concern. Canonically, Orcs were created by Morgoth, Middle Earth’s greatest evil, as tools for his orders and cannon fodder for his army. But casually suggesting that they are meant to be compassionate and have feelings without really diving into the subject just feels like complicating the lore for no real reason. It’s unclear what this might be setting up, or what we’re supposed to think now about the thousands of Orcs who slew the heroes of Middle Earth.
The same goes for many of the series’ subplots, which generally feel half-baked, confusing, and ignored. Ar-Pharazôn’s coup in Númenor, a key historical moment in the kingdom’s downfall, is confined exclusively to Episode 3 and makes almost no sense there. It’s hard to say in the scene why what he’s doing is bad or why exactly he’s wrong; instead of giving a villain some good arguments, the series makes him more relatable than the characters we’re supposed to root for. Likewise, The Rings of Power has the chance for an intriguing storyline with Celebrimbor as we watch Sauron bring out his ego and manipulate it for his own ends. But he is so easily tricked that the blacksmith seems easily fooled, rather than making Sauron appear to be a subtle and brilliant manipulator.
That’s not to say it’s bad that these plot threads are in the series at all, but rather that they feel like afterthoughts. Moments like Queen Miriel being tempted by the Palantir, Celebrimbor deceiving Gil-galad to feed his own ego, or even the fears of a troubled orc could represent meaningful, complicated moments that further our understanding of both the character and Middle Earth. But they’re rushed through so quickly and with so little set-up that these flaws feel like hollow storytelling gestures rather than meaningful additions to the narrative.
Worse, the only morally complex storyline the series actually explores – the use of the Rings of Power by the Elves – is so different from the original that it feels like it comes from a completely different fictional universe. In Tolkien’s original version, the Elven Rings were not made by Sauron, but were crudely crafted using techniques Celebrimbor learned from him. The Rings of Powerr’s rings are made with his involvement, and the elves know it. It’s a precise switch that shifts the plot from one of the subtle ways in which evil can deceive good people to one about how giving in to evil is worth it if it means gaining some personal benefit, such as resurrecting Linden.
It’s an obviously ridiculous idea, but it also dilutes one of the series’ most important moral ideas: that goodness is not relative, and that an inherently evil object should not be used for good because it shouldn’t be used at all. Isildur being tempted by the power of the One Ring into believing he can escape Sauron’s influence is meant to be a defining moment for the world of Middle-earth, the final tragic moment at the end of the Second Age. Simply having the Elves make a similar decision, knowingly, years earlier, robs the future of the story of any seriousness.
It’s utterly puzzling to watch this debate among the elves in the first few episodes of season two. It’s so fundamentally uncharacteristic of Tolkien that it’s hard to imagine how it could have made its way into a series so obviously committed to Tolkien’s vision and world. The Second Age is largely defined by deception. Sauron roams the world, deceiving anyone he can to regain his former power. During this time, all of Middle Earth is affected by him in one way or another, some far more disastrous than others, but deception is key. If the elves make this choice willingly, it will only further strip Sauron of his deceptive power. More importantly, though, it also betrays the core of Tolkien’s message about the subtle ways in which pure evil can corrupt even the greatest and most brilliant of people.
No character suffers more from this notion than Galadriel. That she was deceived by Sauron in Season 1 was one thing, an understandable and established fact: Sauron is a master of evil and deception, and he will exploit any weakness he sees and use it to manipulate the mind and make it do his will. But in Season 2 – when she understands that she helped Sauron and that Sauron had a hand in making the three Elven Rings of Power – she pushes for them to be used anyway. This is a complete reversal of her role in the first season. The series begins with Galadriel as the only Elf who still believes Sauron is alive, and who also believes he is so dangerous that he must be hunted at all costs. Now, a season later, she is begging the other Elves to use Saruon’s magic. That she was once deceived by him while he was in disguise is one thing, but to allow herself to be tricked by him when she knows that is exactly what he intends to do seems to her to be so foolish and unforgivable that one cannot forgive such an important and heroic figure.
And the greatest tragedy in this whole mess is that none of it was necessary at all. Tolkien’s story, and the entire Legendarium universe, is not made for moral gray areas – and that’s not a bad thing. It’s the quintessential modern fantasy universe, and one of the all-time great settings for stories of good versus evil. And it shouldn’t need to be more than that. The struggle to remain good in a fallen and complicated world is compelling enough in itself; they don’t need additional arguments for evil, or the prestige TV claim that there is no such thing as good and evil. In trying to make The Lord of the Rings great TV, Payne and McKay have only succeeded in robbing Tolkien’s universe of what makes it special.
The first three episodes of The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power Season 2 are now streaming on Prime Video. New episodes are released every Thursday.