Following an underwhelming first season, Amazon Prime’s Rings of Power has returned to Middle-earth’s Second Age, with hopes to salvage its thus far billion-dollar debacle. Set as a prequel to J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings trilogy, the series follows Sauron’s rise to power and the forging of the great rings.

Charlie Vickers reprises his role as the prodigious manipulator and emissary of evil. There is a scene in Peter Jackson’s Fellowship of the Ring in which Gandalf, recounting the history and reappearance of the fabled One Ring to Frodo, says, “The spirit of Sauron endured.” It is precisely this dogged and patient pursuit of world domination that Vickers, easily the only redeeming facet of Rings of Power, communicates in spades.

Season Two begins with a prologue, a glimpse of Sauron’s first attempt at seizing leadership of the orcs. Though he is unsuccessful, his spirit lingers and festers in Middle-earth, attaching itself to whatever temptation invites it, and slowly accrues power. Vickers’s deadpan countenance conveys, without dialogue, his calm temperament and ability to wait out lifetimes patiently for the opportunity to creep back into the world.

The rest of the cast, however, is riddled with shortcomings, none more glaring than Galadriel. Described by Tolkien as the fairest and wisest of the Elves, Galadriel is meant to exude grace, wisdom, and an ethereal calm. Yet in The Rings of Power, Morfydd Clark’s portrayal reduces her to an emotionally unstable teenager with a penchant for rebellion and anger. Margot Robbie would have been a better casting choice to play Mother Teresa.

In addition, Amazon’s relentless pursuit of environmental, social, and governance ratings, which makes Sauron’s will to rule seem reserved in comparison, introduces a litany of racial backgrounds to Middle-earth’s factions that come off as awkward and forced. We are introduced to African and Asian Elves — one of these characters’ entire story arc amounts to serving as a dartboard for Orc archers — and a black Dwarfish Princess Disa, who, in one farcical scene, frightens off a gang of Dwarves by summoning a colony of bats, an odd novelty for a people supposedly born and raised in caves.

Aside from its poor casting and stilted dialogue, The Rings of Power commits an even greater misstep by attempting to humanize Tolkien’s orcs. This iniquitous race was designed to embody pure malice, creatures twisted beyond redemption. Yet the series portrays them in a bizarrely sympathetic light, with scenes of orc parents tenderly embracing their offspring. This misguided attempt to give orcs depth not only dilutes their role as the personification of evil but also reduces them to nothing more than grotesque humans with relatable problems. In doing so, the show undermines the existential struggle between good and evil that defines the very essence of Middle-earth.

The final nail in the coffin, however, is The Rings of Power’s relentless need to overstuff its narrative with familiar elements, often without any clear purpose. The clumsy inclusion of Gandalf is a prime example. Gandalf, who doesn’t canonically appear for another 2,000 years, is shoehorned into the Second Age purely for his brand recognition. His entire storyline is little more than engagement bait, with Gandalf wandering aimlessly across picturesque landscapes, trailed by a pair of Harfoots who also exist solely for nostalgic callbacks to The Lord of the Rings.

But unlike Sam, Frodo, Merry, and Pippin, who were on a mission that gave them emotional weight, these characters are cardboard cutouts, doing little of consequence. The creators patently hoped to manipulate fans into caring simply by reviving familiar tropes, but without any real story to tell, it feels like empty fan service. In the end, the only character left worth rooting for is, ironically, Sauron.