Score: 4 / 5
In an era of ever-expanding franchises, it can feel annoying to some that titles don't die gracefully. For those of us interested in the world Tolkien created, new additions tend to be more exciting than not, even when they don't fulfill our hopes or expectations. New video games based on Gollum or the Dwarves, for example, have not fared particularly well, and though one (er, two?) based on the ghost of Celebrimbor was arguably a better game, it all but disintegrates ties to the source material. In fact, adherence to extant lore tends to be the one thing most often cited as faults of new installments in the multimedia legendarium, usually by those with stars in their eyes and a certain elitist attitude toward newcomers to the fandom. And yet, many of these same people will claim Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings trilogy to be nigh untouchable, despite the ways it too plays fast and loose with the revered texts.
I, for one, have thoroughly enjoyed the films, games, and series that have been produced in the world of Middle-earth simply because they exist. And while anime has never been my preferred method of consuming any art, The War of the Rohirrim not only fails to disappoint, it manages to awe and impress even a skeptic like me, who wandered in with notebook and pen ready to poke holes. Perhaps it's because Tolkien's world has already been visualized by so many more artists than Jackson; I grew up with illustrations by artists and the previous animated film adaptations, so my initial understanding of Middle-earth was much more artistically varied than the feature films delivered. That might make it easier, then, for me to shift my entertainment-based expectations to a different aesthetic, and your mileage might vary.
Thank goodness Philippa Boyens returned to work on this film's story, though. This might be the way forward for future filmed adaptations of Tolkien: select one of the many great stories from a previous age or briefly mentioned in various sources of his writings, and dramatize it to the best of an individual storyteller's power. Thus, we're dropped into the story of The War of the Rohirrim without much by way of plotting baggage or exposition. Miranda Otto -- immortalized as Eowyn, Shieldmaiden of Rohan, in the Jackson films -- narrates in voiceover some introductory language meant to ease the audience into a focal point of Tolkienian history prior to the War of the Ring by nearly 200 years. But this exposition isn't meant to lecture as much as to thematically orient us: Eowyn is rhetorically connecting herself (and, by extension, us) to a previous shieldmaiden, one who she says will not be remembered in great songs and tales, but whose story is worth retelling nonetheless.
This is significant for several reasons, including that the protagonist of this story is in fact nameless in Tolkien's notes on this portion of Middle-earth history and also that it is one of the first standalone stories in this franchise primarily focused on a female character (I'm very much enjoying The Rings of Power, but Galadriel is less a protagonist than a focal point among an extensive ensemble). And while some viewers might say, by film's end, that The War of the Rohirrim is an unnecessary extension or failure of a prequel to The Lord of the Rings, I'd counter that it isn't functionally a prequel at all, but simply another story set in the same universe and fully in concert with Tolkien's source material.
The mercifully refreshing self-contained story concerns, of course, the kingdom of Rohan and its horse-riding inhabitants. King Helm (voiced by an excellent Brian Cox) and his family rule a troubled land from its capital city of Edoras. Dunland, a neighboring land to the west of Rohan populated by unenlightened men from the Second Age, lives in tense peace with the kingdom until Helm's daughter, Hera, is announced to be pledged to a prince of Gondor, to the south. Freca, leader of the Dunlendings, enters Edoras to broker a marriage between Hera and his son, Wulf, who were childhood friends. Knowing that Freca seeks to usurp his throne -- and that Hera, though not wanting to be married to anyone at all, definitely only sees Wulf as a brotherly friend -- Helm denies Freca's request. Demanding satisfaction, Freca and helm duel outside the royal hall of Meduseld, ending when Helm accidentally slays Freca with his bare hand, earning the name "Hammerhand." Wulf flees and begins plotting his revenge.
As is the case with much of Tolkien, it's an operatic and deeply mythologically rooted setup to what will become one of the great Third Age tragic sagas. I won't say more about the plot here, as most familiar with Tolkien already know it, and if you don't, there are just enough significant turning points to warrant experiencing the story for yourself. But I will mention some specifics in terms of character, location, and lore, so if you are at all interested in seeing The War of the Rohirrim but want no spoilers, know now that you should absolutely do so and enjoy yourself and stop reading this post!
Hama and Haleth, sons of Helm, die in one of the most emotionally gripping sequences I've ever seen in an animated film. The Dunlendings' sack of Edoras is brutal, even after the high fantasy adventure scenes that came before it, including a noncanonical but deeply interesting surfacing of a monster akin to the Watcher in the Water. The presence of Easterlings in Rohan are canonical, though their wars with Rohan and Gondor take place in other times and places than is suggested by this film; that Haradrim and oliphants would venture north of the White Mountains is also weird and unlikely, much more so that they'd pass all the way through Rohan to Dunland with any kind of secrecy, but that seems to be what happens here. Those are really my only lore-related notes, though, as most of the rest of the film capably fits the bill without significant problem.
Apart from generally solid voice-acting (and some really nuanced work from Cox, who could have played Helm with a one-note sensibility but instead mixes deadly pride into his moments of lament, regret, and even affection), the characterizations shine here, bringing the many characters to life despite them existing in only two dimensions. Gaia Wise, who is unknown to me, delivers a headstrong and endearing voice for Hera that makes her wonderfully rounded and never definable as rugged or stubborn or willful or shrewish, or any other obnoxious descriptor often attributed to women of action, royal or otherwise. She has a curious connection with a giant eagle that could perhaps be unpacked more, but her interactions with her family and her people demonstrate Hera's competency and compassion without sacrificing her pride or wisdom. Even Luke Pasqualino's Wulf, though clearly villainous, is never as flat and rote as he could have been.
Anime style isn't usually for me, but there are some really dynamic visuals in this film that occasionally made me forget it was anime. Best yet: it's not all action. Despite some major set pieces, this film shines just as brightly in its quiet, chamber-based scenes of dialogue and in its nonverbal travel sequences, such as a brief visit to Wulf's encampment at Isengard. Sword fights are engaging and "realistic," zooming us in with kinetic frenzy to be right up amidst clashing blades. Sumptuous sound design brings the visuals to life with consequential and weighty sounds, best showcased any time Helm Hammerhand shatters the bones of his opponents to pieces. The entire battle at the fortress to soon be known as Helm's Deep is brilliantly realized; it could so easily have relied on the fame of Jackson's filmed battle there for itself to be taken seriously, and it absolutely does not. In fact, it feels somehow fresh and inspired, and not just because of the blizzard snows that cover the scene. Helm's ghostly haunting of that wintery vale will remain burned in my memory for a long time indeed.
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