If you are unaware, I am very well versed in the world of Middle Earth. I have three bookcases dedicated to Professor Tolkien’s work and every year my family has our annual Middle Earth Marathon. However, over the past couple of years I have been slightly wary of adaptations due to Hollywood’s treatment of the Professor’s work. Whether it is completely disrespectful as in Rings of Power, or the shallow cash grab that is the upcoming Hunt for Gollum films, I don’t want to see the Professor’s work turn into a mindless cash cow sucked completely dry. There are many stories that I would love to see be brought to life, but I don’t trust Hollywood, especially today where creatives think they are better writers than the original authors. So now comes, The Lord of the Rings: The War of the Rohirrim, an anime prequel to the Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings Trilogy, taking place in Rohan over 200 years before The War of the Rings. As a fantasy anime it is fine, but for Lord of the Rings Fans, it is hard not to be a bit disappointed.
As expected, The War of the Rohirrim takes significant liberties with its source material. While it adheres to the broad strokes of the story outlined in Tolkien’s works, it alters the context and reshapes key characters. In the original tale, the conflict carries a sense of moral ambiguity due to limited details. Wulf’s motivations for waging war against Helm Hammerhand remain unclear, though it is implied that he sought to avenge his father Freca’s death—described to by some as “murder” by Hammerhand—and to restore his family’s honor, tarnished by their alleged Dunlending heritage.
However, the film takes a more clear cut route as Wulf is recast as a vengeful suiter, bitter over being denied the hand of Helm’s unnamed daughter, dubbed Hera in the film. And instead of Hammerhand and his two sons defending the Hornburg with Frealaf Hildeson defeating the Dunlendings, it is Hera who is given all the credit. This simplified take on the story is fine for a fantasy anime, but in the context of Tolkien, you can’t help but mourn what the tale could have been.
Even with its simplified take on the story, The War of the Rohirrim suffers from one of the most unforgivable flaws a film can have: it’s boring. Despite the potential of its premise, the narrative consistently falls short, struggling to meet even the most fundamental requirements of good storytelling. One of the film’s most glaring issues is its lack of internal logic. The plot often feels forced, with the writers manipulating events in unnatural and unconvincing ways to push the story toward specific outcomes. Whether it’s a character’s inexplicable death or an obviously illogical decision, the narrative relies heavily on contrived shortcuts to advance key moments. These missteps not only disrupt the story’s flow but also shatter the viewer’s immersion, as the contrivances become all too apparent.v
What’s worse, many of these forced plot points are unnecessarily drawn out. At nearly two hours, the film overstays its welcome by about 20 minutes, dragging sequences to the point where they lose impact and border on absurdity. This is especially evident in the battle scenes, which, rather than being exhilarating or emotionally charged, often come across as overindulgent and lacking in coherence. Moments that should heighten tension or drive the story forward instead feel bloated and repetitive, sapping the film of its energy. Ultimately, this lack of focus and narrative cohesion makes The War of the Rohirrim feel more like a slog than an epic. The story’s pacing issues, combined with its reliance on lazy storytelling devices, render what could have been a gripping tale into a frustrating and, at times, outright tedious viewing experience.
The film’s issues are compounded by its uninspired characters, starting with its protagonist, Hera. Despite the writers’ apparent attempt to create a static character—a protagonist who remains steadfast in their values—they end up delivering a flat and lifeless lead. Hera comes across as a stereotypical female anime protagonist, complete with a reserved, modest design, but without any depth to make her compelling. Her personality is defined solely by her love for her family, her loyalty to her country, and a vague desire for freedom. While these traits might suffice for a supporting character, they are woefully inadequate for a main protagonist, who needs to be tested physically, mentally, or morally to grow and engage the audience. When Hera does face challenges, they are superficial at best and resolved almost immediately, with little consequence or impact on her character. This lack of meaningful development makes her journey uninteresting and undermines her role as the story’s emotional anchor.
The contrast with her father, Helm Hammerhand, is stark. Voiced with gravitas by Brian Cox, Helm is a commanding and tragic figure who easily overshadows Hera. His arc, as a proud and boastful king descending into madness and grief, offers the kind of complex character study the film desperately needed. Watching him wrestle with the weight of his decisions, his family’s fate, and his own morality is infinitely more engaging than Hera’s relatively shallow rebellion. One can’t help but wonder why the filmmakers sidelined such a rich, dynamic character in favor of a protagonist who struggles to hold the audience’s attention.
The film’s antagonist, Wulf, fares no better. Initially introduced with a glimmer of moral ambiguity—his family is ostracized due to their perceived Dunlending heritage, and his father, Freca, is killed by Helm—Wulf’s motivations seem ripe for a nuanced exploration. His rebellion against Helm could have been portrayed as a descent into revenge and grief, a man pushed to extremes by injustice and loss. Instead, the film reduces him to a shallow, one-note villain whose primary grievance is being denied the chance to marry Hera. This reductive characterization not only robs Wulf of complexity but also feels like a narrative copout. By discarding the potential for a layered antagonist in favor of a petty, embittered portrayal, the writers squander an opportunity to create a meaningful conflict. Wulf’s motivations, rather than challenging the audience or adding depth to the story, come across as lazy and uninspired, a symptom of the film’s broader writing issues.
One of the most glaring flaws in The War of the Rohirrim is its overreliance on the original The Lord of the Rings trilogy. The film constantly leans on callbacks to Peter Jackson’s iconic adaptations, reusing lines of dialogue and recreating familiar scenes to evoke a sense of nostalgia. While these moments might briefly stir fond memories of the beloved trilogy, they ultimately feel like a crutch—an attempt to mask the film’s lack of originality and depth.
This approach isn’t new. Amazon’s The Rings of Power infamously employed similar tactics, using nostalgia as a distraction from its many narrative and creative shortcomings, with little success. It’s baffling that the writers of The War of the Rohirrim would follow the same misguided strategy. However, given the lackluster quality of their work, it’s not hard to see why they might have hoped to borrow goodwill from the earlier films.
Instead of standing on its own merits, the film’s heavy-handed references serve as a reminder of its shortcomings, exposing a writing process that feels lazy and uninspired. At its worst, the writing embodies the kind of nepotistic mediocrity that relies on established success to compensate for its inability to craft something truly compelling or respectful of Tolkien’s legacy.
At least the animation is a saving grace, right? Well, not quite. While parts of the animation are decent, it falls short of being truly impressive. The hand-drawn 2D animation is often pleasant to look at, even for someone who isn’t typically a fan of traditional anime aesthetics. However, this positive impression is undermined by the poor character design for Hera, which feels generic and uninspired. The real issue arises when the film attempts to merge 2D animation with 3D elements. The combination is clunky and visually jarring, with the two styles clashing rather than complementing each other. These moments feel disjointed and cheap, disrupting the immersive experience the film tries to create. Instead of elevating the visuals, the hybrid animation serves as a stark reminder of the production’s uneven quality, pulling viewers out of the story entirely.
Overall, The War of the Rohirrim is a mixed bag. The potential for a compelling story is evident, particularly if the focus had remained on the fascinating character of Helm Hammerhand rather than shifting to his less engaging daughter, Hera. Unfortunately, the film’s lackluster execution prevents it from reaching the greatness it might have achieved. While it offers moments of entertainment, they are overshadowed by its narrative and character shortcomings. If this film represents the direction of future Tolkien adaptations, it paints a troubling picture for how these stories may be handled moving forward. For fans of Middle-earth, it’s a sobering reminder of what can be lost when depth and respect for the source material are sacrificed in favor of mediocrity.
My Rating: C+
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