Some Thoughts on "Rings of Power" (1 of 2)
Theological Letters
I typically don’t weigh in publicly on movies or television. However, I chose to make an exception for the new Amazon series, Rings of Power. I had a few thoughts on the show that I expect are unlikely to gain a voice in the discussion, and so, I’ve decided to step outside my comfort zone and share those. To all my subscribers, thank you for subscribing. To my paid subscribers, thank you for your support. And to any guests, please consider subscribing and supporting my work!
I just finished watching episode 1 of Rings of Power. While I resonated with the fan outrage leading up to its release, I tried to set aside my biases and give it a chance. Despite keeping an open mind, the show proved to be as deeply flawed as the Tolkien fandom anticipated.
I’m not a Tolkien scholar, only a casual appreciator of his work, so I won’t delve into the ways in which the show diverges from the lore he so carefully crafted over a lifetime. I admit that I find this egregious, but there are others who are much better equipped to level this gripe than me. I also won’t focus on many of the other critiques floating about that are equally warranted. Yes, the show has cringe dialogue that is so cringey that it (unintentionally) makes one laugh out loud. Dialogue is not the only laughably cringe element of the show — see the elvish boys choir singing their way to paradise. The identity politics are about as subtle as a sledge hammer; it makes evangelical faith-based films that build to an altar call seem carefully nuanced and understated. The pacing is problematic. I found myself regularly checking to see how much of the episode was left because it became painfully boring. The majority of the acting was poor at best. And there were notable creative inconsistencies — moments of scoring that seemed so off that they pulled me out of the scene or shifts from excellent CGI to She-Hulk-level bad CGI. Yet, there are plenty of folks out there commenting on these flaws. I’d like to focus in on a few issues that I think are less likely to find a voice.
The first concerns the diversity of the show. I don’t have any objection to dark-skinned dwarves or dark-skinned elves, unless there is a clear reason why this violates Tolkien’s lore — which it may, but as I said, I’m not equipped to make this judgement. However, there is a way to introduce diversity that is story motivated, and there is a way to introduce diversity that is mindless diversity for diversity's sake. The former respects world building. Just as one should consider the region and way of life of a fictional people when designing their homes, tools, costumes, clothing, and the like, so one should consider such things when crafting their physical features. When creating a tribal people who live in small towns and interbreed, there should be a level of genetic homogeneity. A small town of fair skinned humans or hobbits (oops, harfoots) or some other species is likely to share a common appearance, not only in skin tone but also in facial structure, size, etc. One could certainly introduce a dark-skinned race or species or people in a way that feels natural, organic, and appropriate to the world one is building. Rings of Power does none of this. They simply throw in diverse characters at random, thereby betraying that the show’s diversity is for diversity's sake. Bottom line: This is bad storytelling.
The second point concerns metaphysics. The opening line of the show runs something like this: There was a time when the world was so young that it had not yet seen a sunrise, and yet, there was light (rough quote from memory). Now, this is a line that has been flagged by the fandom as one of the cringe lines of the show. This one bothers me less than others because there is a resonance with the Hebrew creation myth in which light is created before the sun. And in keeping with this resonance, there is a subsequent line about nothing being created evil or all things being created good at first (again, going off of memory). At first, this sounds like an articulation of the early Judeo-Christian metaphysics of evil.
By way of context, there’s a discussion in ancient philosophy and religion about the nature of evil. Metaphysical dualism holds that good and evil are two equal and opposite forces that are at perpetual war with one another. On this view, evil is a substance, as is good. — Ancient dualistic cults often identified matter with evil and spirit with good. — Jews and Christians (and to an extent, NeoPlatonists, though not really) took a different stance. They maintained that all that is is good. Evil is a privation or a distortion of a good. Blindness, for example, is not an addition to the eye but a privation of the good of sight. Such is the importance of a creation myth in which all is created good and then spoils, introducing death and evil into the world by means of free agency.
If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought the writers understood this and chose to introduce the opening with a mythological statement about the nature of good and evil. (Incidentally, this classical Judeo-Christian view of good and evil is part of Tolkien’s worldview; of this much I am sure.) However, the child, Galadriel, then meets up with her brother to hear a speech about darkness and light that sounds remarkably like metaphysical dualism, “the darkness” being a substantive thing that has its own pull, just like “the light.” Now, I know precious few care about metaphysics these days, but such nuances play an important role in world building and establishing the rules of the universe, something Tolkien himself knew, as did his friend, C.S. Lewis. Unfortunately, the writers of Rings of Power proved to be metaphysically inept and shallow, and the shallowness of their worldview reverberates throughout the rest of the show.
This second point intersects with a third. Galadriel is evil. Before I explain, allow me a brief aside on Morfydd Clark’s portrayal of this character. I said I would not pile onto comments that have ample representation online, but here, I cannot resist. I can’t remember the name of the commentator who said this, but she said something along the lines that Clark’s Galadriel is both a Mary Sue and a Karen. Well, she is. This version of Galadriel is painful to watch. (Sorry, Clark; I mean no ill will.) She delivers every line with a low vibrato through clenched teeth that drips with seething third-wave feminist contempt, wrapped in self-righteousness, and served on a plate of Karen. She is utterly unlikable every moment she is on screen. And what is even more amazing is that even when she is not speaking, she somehow still conveys that tone. Some people can smile with their eyes; Clark has mastered womansplaining with her eyes. This, of course, is a problem when your hero(ine) is so unlikable that your audience finds themselves begging for her scenes to end.
But there is another problem with Galadriel. She is evil. First, Galadriel is motivated entirely by hate and vengeance. Such motives have traditionally been considered, by all classical philosophies and religions, to be vicious. In addition, (SPOILER) there is a fateful moment for Galadriel when she rides a ship with her companions to the Undying Lands. (I should say the only spoiler here is that she boarded the ship in the first place before jumping off at the last second, only to swim the entire ocean, and somehow still have energy enough to battle and kill a sea monster, which I’m sure is where this is headed, though I can hardly type that sentence without laughing out loud at the absurdity of it.) We see the elves approaching the Undying Lands; their armor and weapons are removed, since it is a land without war, and the clouds part to shine the light of the land upon them. (I will avoid mention of the elvish boys choir at this point, since I might fall out of my chair laughing at the recollection.) At this point, Galadriel remembers the conversation with her brother about darkness and light, the very conversation that I mentioned falls into metaphysical dualism. The memory reveals one further (egregious) bit of pseudo-philosophy from her brother, namely, that sometimes you need to touch the darkness (or some such thing). At this, Galadriel jumps ship. Putting aside for a moment the fact that Galadriel has already shown motives that make her vicious, not virtuous, we have here an explicit choice between the light — which is literally staring her in the face — and the darkness — which is now identified as a second, substantial principle, as held by metaphysical dualism. And Galadriel chooses darkness!
(I could add here the more subtle point that the show treats Galadriel’s insubordination as a virtue. She perpetually defies orders just because she is right. While this sensibility may resonate with contemporary folk, it would not resonate with more ancient ways of thinking — the sorts of ways of thinking that Tolkien drew upon when building his world. Much of ancient philosophy and religion saw hierarchies as part of the natural order, not merely as social constructs. Hence, those prone to natural law of one kind or another — be they Stoics, Jews, or Christians — would not have looked at insubordination as a matter of moral indifference. If any people in Tolkien’s world are likely to embody natural law, the elves would certainly be that people. Admittedly, each of these philoosphies had conditions under which insubordination was appropriate, but the level at which Galadriel casually shrugs off all authorities over her is only further evidence of her lack of virtue.)
This goes to two further points that I think are worth noting. The first is that this metaphysical and meta-ethical ineptitude reflects a common thread in modern movies and television. Having lost touch with all classic thought on the nature of the world, on good and evil, on virtue and vice, and the like, “good guys” are no longer good. “Good guys” are simply “our guys.” We are supposed to root for them because they are the characters the storyteller is forcing us to follow. To choose just one such example, Walking Dead began with very interesting dynamics about good and evil and the question of whether those moral norms are real and binding regardless of whether there is a society to uphold those norms. The show had conflict between characters who saw morality as obsolete and characters who saw morality as something that transcended societal norms. But at some point, all of the characters became vicious; they all embraced utility; they all became Nietzschean in outlook, simply engaging in war with no aim other than their own power. Somehow we, the audience, were supposed to continue to root for “our group” over other groups. Why? Not because they were good. They weren’t. They were no better than the groups they were up against. We were supposed to want them to win because they were our guys, not because they were good guys. So it is with Galadriel. We’re supposed to root for her. Why? Because she’s the main character; because she’s our girl; because she’s the strongest and smartest, etc. But the problem is she is not only insufferable but she is also evil. That makes it very hard to root for her.
Now, a character like this can be interesting. It is interesting when a character is so confident in his rightness that he plows ahead only to have that pride and arrogance become his downfall. It is interesting when a character is so committed to justice and so confident that only he can enact justice that he perpetuates injustice. This was one of the things that made Daenerys Targaryen an interesting character in Game of Thrones. Yet, I think it is utterly unlikely that this is the direction the show is headed. I very much doubt that Mary Sue Galadriel will be humbled, that her pride will be her downfall, and that she will undergo a redemption arc as she moves from viciously self-righteousness to humbly virtuous. I would love to be pleasantly surprised and discover that she is not a Karen Mary Sue, but I have my doubts to put it mildly.
The second point that all of this raises is this: Why should we trust Galadriel? Why should we think she is right? The show presumptuously unfolds as if we, the audience, ought to believe in Galadriel’s rightness as firmly as she does. But why? The only reasons I can think of are extrinsic to the show. If we’re familiar with Tolkien, we know that Sauron will resurface, and we know that Galadriel is a “good guy.” Barring such information (which we probably should bar, given the show’s disregard for Tolkien), what has the show given us to make us trust her? My answer: Nothing. It has only given me reason to distrust her as an utterly unlikable character who is vicious if not evil.