I've looked at screen shots and summaries, and that's more than enough to see it clearly.
As a swords-and-sorcery basher, as a prequel to Willow, it's probably okay.
As a representation of Tolkien, the thing is vomit, and dogs will return to it.
But, this is what we should expect, given the substantive difference between the soul of J.R.R. Tolkien, and the souls of the showrunners.
Of course there is no "soul-quality detector," no Metaphysical Geiger Counter we can point at the chests of the showrunners (let alone Tolkien's remains) to discern what is there. But we can use what climate-scientists call "proxies" to make a rough-and-ready evaluation, and that'll be sufficient when the difference is so...stark.
Tolkien could write as he did because he was a man with a certain temperament, and certain natural talents and interests, and he had experience of harshness of the world. And (given his temperament, talents, interests, and experience), he confronted the world's injuries and perversities, and reacted to them in a particular way.
He could have reacted in various ways: He could have become a bitter, miserable antagonist (most-likely, given his temperament), or a Vichy collaborator (rather less-likely). He could have allowed his soul to become warped in the process.
Instead, he opted to love transcendentally, and to pursue (in his own individual idiom) Truth, Goodness, and Beauty.
In so doing, he confronted the heartbreak of damaged or distorted Beauty, of crushed and punished Goodness, of warped speech that mocked Truth...and yet, he remained loyal to Truth, Goodness, and Beauty without losing sincerity.
This is the kind of soul which could write the eucatastrophe of The Lord of the Rings.
The reason that Peter Jackson came so close to perfection in his adaptation of The Lord of the Rings was because he allowed Tolkien to speak through him (especially in the dialogue). He didn't "edit Tolkien's mail": That is, he didn't interject his own voice. On the rare occasions where he did so (e.g. the modification of the character of Faramir, the early lack of resolve in Aragorn) the fans could excuse it because they were otherwise too-similar and too-unchanging for cinematic purposes...and because the very paucity of such exceptions bore witness to Jackson's loyalty to the source material.
By contrast, Peter Jackson utterly failed at delivering The Hobbit at the same level. Possibly because The Hobbit is a very different book with a very different tone, but most-certainly because it didn't provide nearly enough source material to fill a trilogy, so Jackson had no option but to "get creative" to fill the gaps: And even he, talented though he was, just wasn't up to that task. He's probably a good man and is certainly a good artist, in his own way; but he isn't Tolkien.
And how much less so, the current Rings of Power showrunners! (Beside them, Jackson is both Michelangelo and Francis of Assisi.)
The problem with the "Bitch Queen of Angmar" is right there, in her online moniker. She is, temperamentally, an orc, full of orc-talk: Not because she was born that way, but because she made herself that way. I don't know what heartbreaks, crushing defeats, and lies she has encountered in her life: But (even without a Metaphysical Geiger Counter) the evidence is pretty strong that she has not woven those themes into a more-beautiful music, a more-heroic virtue, a more piercing truth. (Those who know the Ainulindalë will recognize where I am coming from.)
Tolkien saw himself as a sub-creator: Doing for the world of story what the Valar did, each in their own way, as they sang at the direction of Ilúvatar. Tolkien did not even wish to err as Aulë had, in the matter of the dwarves. He therefore sang his part of the song with humility: And the music rang true.
The showrunners of Rings of Power are at the opposite pole. They seem to have purposed to sing as Melkor did: With their own dissonant brashness, a kind of sneering dismissal of the rest of the music. They have certainly reacted to the criticisms of the fans with a sneering dismissal, an utter lack of humility, an utter unwillingness to be teachable. That they should thus pattern themselves after Morgoth is all-too-fitting.
But I suspect they aren't wise enough to recognize this pattern in themselves. (The man who resists a temptation to the very end, knows the temptation in its full strength. The man who gives in early, hasn't fought his enemy long enough to know it well. The man who fought alcoholism and is now twenty years sober knows alcohol; the man who is twenty minutes into his latest bender doesn't know much of anything.)
So I don't think they know what they are doing. (One wants to say, "Father, forgive them.") Too-long-divorced from truth, goodness, and beauty, how could they be reconciled to it, and betroth it again? What could possibly be their path back to its door? They would need a change-of-heart, a radically-altered direction-of-life. If the whole lot of them left their homes and joined convents and monasteries...? That, after a decade or so, might be enough.
But they aren't going to do that, and they aren't going to make a good cinematic representation of Tolkien, either; and that's that. We make our choices, and they form us. These showrunners should never have undertaken this project. We can't all be Dante Alighieri, or Fyodor Dostoevsky, or J.R.R. Tolkien.
Let them make another Conan movie.