Editorial: From Tolkien to Tedium. What “Rings of Power” Reveal About Hollywood

Hollywood was once the keeper of the world’s myths. It took the epics of the past—Ben-Hur, Ivanhoe, Quo Vadis, The Big Sleep, Lawrence of Arabia, Gone with the Wind—and transmuted them into cinematic gold. Today, it is the hangman of its own cultural inheritance. The industry that once thrived on grandeur and narrative depth now seems intent on disfiguring the very stories that made it great. No case better illustrates this than Amazon’s The Rings of Power, a lavish and ridiculously expensive adaptation of J.R.R. Tolkien’s legendarium that manages to be both artistically bankrupt and financially dubious.

Far from being a reverent expansion of Tolkien’s universe, The Rings of Power epitomised a Hollywood trend: the cynical repurposing of beloved intellectual properties as vehicles for ideological messages, rather than for compelling storytelling. Amazon spent nearly a billion dollars on what was meant to be a juggernaut on its streaming platform. Instead, they delivered a project that, despite garnering some initial curiosity, saw a steep drop-off in viewership; less than half of its audience even finished the first season. The supposed prequel to The Lord of the Rings failed both as an adaptation and as an investment. Its failure is emblematic of an industry that no longer understands, let alone respects, the fundamental principles of narrative and myth-making.

A Betrayal of Source Material

Tolkien’s world is defined by mythopoeic depth, linguistic precision, and a moral clarity that transcends the whims of contemporary politics. His Middle-earth is not a backdrop for arbitrary spectacle but a world that reflects the perennial struggles of virtue and vice, heroism and temptation, sacrifice and redemption. Amazon’s The Rings of Power jettisoned this essence in favor of a bland, corporate simulacrum of fantasy—a world visually opulent but spiritually vacant.

The showrunners seemed intent on remaking Middle-earth in Hollywood’s own image: detached from any deeper historical, religious, or moral framework. Characters were stripped of depth, dialogue was lifeless, and the grand themes of fate, free will, and divine providence that permeate Tolkien’s works were diluted into generic platitudes about self-empowerment.

In its revisionism, the series committed the same errors that have plagued modern cinematic adaptations: a refusal to engage with the original text’s philosophical and metaphysical dimensions. The Rings of Power replaced Tolkien’s Catholic-infused understanding of providence with a corporate boardroom’s vision of inclusivity and branding. The result? A production so detached from its literary source that even casual viewers sensed its inauthenticity.

Hollywood’s Self-Destructive Business Model

Beyond its artistic failures, The Rings of Power represents the commercial folly of contemporary Hollywood. Studios pour billions into productions designed more to make a splash on social media than genuinely engage an audience. They prioritise political message over mythical truth, turning once-revered franchises into ideological battlegrounds rather than enduring cultural artifacts.

Amazon’s costly gamble illustrates a broader industry trend: studios spending vast sums on projects that fail to resonate with audiences. The entertainment behemoth envisioned a Game of Thrones-sized phenomenon. Instead, its viewership dwindled while its cultural staying power is doubtful. Meanwhile, Warner Bros.’ The Lord of the Rings films, made over two decades ago, remain vastly more beloved and keep bringing in revenue.

This speaks to an industry-wide crisis. Major studios have become increasingly reliant on franchises, yet they appear intent on sabotaging them. The Marvel Cinematic Universe, once a box office juggernaut, now churns out increasingly uninspired content that fails to meet expectations. Disney’s handling of Star Wars has alienated core fans, turning one of the most successful film franchises in history into a cautionary tale of mismanagement.

The numbers are stark. Global box office revenues have yet to return to pre-pandemic levels. Streaming services, once heralded as Hollywood’s financial salvation, now suffer from market saturation, content fatigue, and a declining subscriber base. Attempts to replace artistic merit with algorithmic content generation—whether through AI scripts or by appealing to an amorphous “modern audience”—have only deepened the crisis. Hollywood is squandering its cultural capital, with The Rings of Power being merely one of its latest, and most expensive, casualties.

But The Rings of Power did not only expose the artistic bankruptcy of modern Western moviemaking; it also revealed how much power a fanbase can wield. Fans of J.R.R. Tolkien—the best-selling author of the 20th century—rallied in defense of his legacy, turning every attempt at marketing the show into a spectacular failure. Desperate to control the narrative, Amazon and its allies resorted to the oldest trick in the book: labeling critics as "right-wing trolls" and "toxic fans." But reality proved hard to spin. From die-hard Tolkien scholars to casual fantasy lovers, the verdict was nearly unanimous: Rings of Power was a catastrophe of Mordorean proportions.

Online discussion forums and social media were flooded with memes, parodies, and takedowns, dissecting everything;from the show’s wooden dialogue to its baffling lore violations. “Hateviewing” became a primary motivation for many who did decide to watch Rings of Power. "I came for Númenor. I stayed for the unintentional comedy," quipped one disillusioned viewer. Another summed up the disaster as "one adaptation to ruin them all." And then there was the rebranding of Galadriel—once the ethereal, wise Lady of Lórien—as what fans mockingly dubbed "Guyladriel", a sulking action heroine more interested in flexing her combat skills than in embodying Tolkien’s vision of wisdom and grace.

In the end, The Rings of Power proved one thing: no amount of billions can erase an audience’s instinctual understanding of when it is being sold a cheap imitation. Hollywood may have lost its way, but Tolkien's fans haven’t.

The Decline of Myth-Making

The decay of Hollywood is thus not just a business problem; it is a civilisational one. Great civilisations sustain themselves through myths—stories that provide meaning, coherence, and a shared moral imagination. Tolkien understood this better than anyone. His work was an attempt to craft a mythology for England, steeped in Catholic morality, Germanic heroism, love for transcendence and an abiding reverence for the past.

Hollywood’s current model does the opposite. It takes inherited myths and deconstructs them, stripping them of their moral clarity and transforming them into self-referential spectacles that neither educate nor inspire. In doing so, it alienates audiences, who increasingly turn to foreign cinema, video games, and independent creators for stories that feel authentic. The global success of Chinese and Indian cinema, the rise of gaming as a dominant storytelling medium, and the explosion of online fan-driven content all point to a future in which Hollywood is no longer the cultural hegemon.

If Hollywood wishes to survive, it must rediscover what made it great in the first place: storytelling that respects its audience, treats its source material with reverence, and understands that art flourishes when it is in dialogue with tradition, not in opposition to it.

The Rings of Power was not just a bad adaptation—it was a symptom of an industry that has lost its way. If Hollywood continues down this path, it will find itself as irrelevant as the ruined kingdoms of Númenor, undone by its own hubris.

Statement

Hollywood was once the world’s master storyteller; now, it’s the chief executioner of its own myths. The Rings of Power, Amazon’s billion-dollar Tolkien misfire, encapsulates the industry’s crisis—lavish spending, ideological meddling, and creative bankruptcy. The result? A franchise-killer which audiences rejected en masse. It’s not just Tolkien’s legendarium that suffered; Hollywood’s self-sabotage is systemic. Audiences flee to foreign films, video games, and independent creators, seeking stories untouched by corporate revisionism. If Hollywood refuses to abandon its obsession with deconstruction and ideological rebranding, it will find itself cast aside—like Númenor, drowned by its own hubris.

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