The Butcher of the Continent: How Netflix Got ‘The Witcher’ Disastrously Wrong

Warning: Spoilers ahead!

You know that feeling when you refuse to watch something for a long time — out of some innate, unexplainable stubbornness that you don’t quite understand. Then, when you finally do watch it, you wish you’d watched it sooner? That was me in December 2021 with the Netflix’s The Witcher.

It took me three attempts to get into S1 E1. I hadn’t encountered The Witcher franchise before, apart from a short-lived attempt at playing The Witcher 2: Assassin of Kings in 2015. For some reason, I couldn’t get past the first 20 minutes of the Netflix series. Spider-like monsters emerging from a foggy bog? Shadowy figures in a tavern? A borderline excessive amount of grunting? I just could not get into it. My partner begged me to sit down and watch it for a third time with him, and if I didn’t like it, we’d give up and watch something else.

It was third time lucky. We binge-watched season one and two in just under a week. Something about the world of The Witcher drew me in. I was fascinated by the titular character, Geralt of Rivia, a mysterious witcher. Yennefer’s story of childhood neglect made me cry, and Ciri’s traumatic experiences during the slaughter of Cintra made me gasp audibly on several occasions.

If I loved the characters so much, why do I think Netflix got The Witcher so disastrously wrong? After reading the books by Andrzej Sapkowski, my view of the series changed markedly. How, you ask? Well, grab a drink and settle in because we’ve got a lot of ground to cover.

Season One: A Near Miss

Let’s start at the beginning. I think that season one generally had the right idea. It laid the foundation for the Continent: xenophobia, political instability, social inequality and a tonne of nasty monsters. However, there are several aspects it got pretty badly wrong. One of the biggest criticisms I’ve heard from those who haven’t read the books is that they struggled with timelines. When I first watched the series, I had the same problem. By clearly defining the time period scenes were set in, The Witcher could have given viewers a more comprehensive understanding of the fantastical Continent invented by Sapkowski. For example, I don’t know about you, but it took me way too long to realise how old Yennefer is.

Casting

In terms of casting, Netflix got a lot right. Henry Cavill, in my opinion, is an outstanding Geralt. Sapkowski told People: “I was more than happy with Henry Cavill’s appearance as The Witcher… He’s a real professional. Just as Viggo Mortensen gave his face to Aragorn, so Henry gave his to Geralt — and it shall be forever so.” High praise, indeed. Cavill’s obvious interest in the Witcher universe and passion for his character shone through in every scene.

Anya Chalotra is a fantastic Yennefer. She perfectly embodies Yennefer’s willfulness and intelligence, even if some of the lines she was given in the series do not align with the Yennefer we know from the books. Freya Allan, who plays Ciri, is great in the role. But her biggest challenges lay ahead of her, as she is yet to grapple with some of the story’s most devastating and harrowing moments (I’m looking at you, Leo Bonhart). A particularly perfect casting is Joey Batey as Jaskier, the comical troubadour who can’t seem to stay away from other people’s wives. Some honourable mentions include Graham McTavish as master manipulator Sigismund Dijkstra and MyAnna Buring as Tissaia de Vries.

Some characters were, in my opinion, miscast. The most striking example is Triss Merigold, played by Anna Shaffer. Unfortunately, at times, she talks as if she’s at a table read, speaking her lines for the very first time. The charm, kindness and warmth of Triss’s character are lost as a result. Fans have voiced that they would have preferred Karen Gillan, Letitia Wright or Amy Adams (perhaps a little on the nose for one of the love interests of a character played by Superman himself, Henry Cavill). However, Triss is a relatively minor character in the grand scheme of things, so Triss’s lack of charisma isn’t too damaging in itself.

The role of destiny

Perhaps the biggest sin committed in season one of The Witcher is Geralt and Ciri’s relationship with destiny. In the books, Geralt and Ciri meet in Brokilon Forest, an ancient forest surrounded by the kingdoms of Cintra, Sodden, Brugge and Verden. Over a decade after Geralt claims Ciri with the Law of Surprise when he saves her parents at a banquet in Cintra, Geralt meets Ciri in Brokilon Forest when he happens upon her being attacked by a giant centipede. On the journey to Brokilon’s capital, Duén Canell, the two start to form a bond. After the Dryads of Brokilon let her leave the forest, he sends her back to Cintra. As he leaves, Ciri despairingly shouts, “I am your destiny!”.

In the series, however, Geralt and Ciri’s destiny is rushed. Ciri’s time in Brokilon Forest does not feature Geralt at all, removing a fundamental part of the story that binds these two characters together. Instead, we see Geralt attempting to claim Ciri in Cintra without her knowing of his existence and, later, their reunion in the forest in Sodden. It’s surprising to me that Geralt and Ciri’s first meeting in Brokilon was left out of the series, as it builds Geralt and Ciri’s bond. In the series, it feels more like a chance meeting in the forest that we, the audience, are expected to just accept. The showrunners want us to believe Geralt and Ciri are joined by destiny because they told us to.

Excessive exposition

If there’s one bit of advice I’d give the showrunner and writers it’d be that it’s best to show, not tell. The obvious exposition sometimes borders on “info dumping”, and throughout the series, characters over-explain themselves. For example, in the first episode of season one, The End’s Beginning, Geralt and Stregobor discuss the curse of the black sun at length, explaining to viewers why the mage perceives Renfri as a threat. It is excessive exposition that will confuse viewers unfamiliar with the short story The Lesser Evil in the first book in the Witcher series, The Last Wish. I imagine the writers thought it would appeal to those tuning in who had read the books, but it just made things overly complex for everyone else.

Season Two: What On Earth is Happening?

Now, onto season two. I watched it straight after I first saw season one, and one of the first things I noticed is that there is quite a significant shift in the way the show holds itself. Clearly buoyed by the praise season one received, Netflix appears to have upped the budget, resulting in better CGI and costumes. Season two also had a much darker feel to it than season one — partly down to the colour grading. Let’s explore some of the season’s most pivotal (and pitiful) moments.

That Voleth Meir storyline (and the pursuing character assassination)

I read the books after I watched both seasons of The Witcher and was shocked to find out that the Voleth Meir storyline does not occur in the books. The Deathless Mother, who, it turns out, rides with the Wild Hunt, was created by the showrunners and appears to be based on Baba Yaga, a supernatural being from Slavic folklore.

Early in the second season, Yennefer, Fringilla and Fransesca encounter the Deathless Mother, who manipulates them into giving her what she wants so she can escape her prison. Yennefer, who lost her power after using fire magic at the Battle of Sodden, is promised her powers back if she brings Ciri to the black door just outside of Cintra. This black door is a veiled reference to a conversation in the books between Yennefer and Ciri, as a way for the sorceress to explain magic to Ciri, who she trains at the temple of Melitele in The Witcher’s third instalment, Blood of Elves. In the book, Yennefer explains to Ciri that chaos (the Continent’s name for magic), which dwells behind the “forbidden door”, can be devastating and destructive and she must learn how to use it properly.

This conversation happens nearer the end of Blood of Elves, where Yennefer and Ciri’s relationship becomes a something closer to a mother-daughter bond. In season two of the Netflix series, the black door is a different type of threat to Ciri because it suggests that once she enters, Voleth Meir (and, presumably, the Wild Hunt) will capture and harm her. Anyone who has read (and, crucially, understood) the books will know that book Yennefer would never put Ciri in harm’s way. In the books, Yennefer is captured by Vilgefortz, who tortures her in an attempt to extract information about Ciri and Geralt’s whereabouts. During the months of torture the sorceress endured, she did not give the malevolent mage any information about Ciri.

Here is the fundamental misalignment between Yennefer from the book and Yennefer from the Netflix series. If the writers thought Yennefer was willing to lead Ciri to Netflix’s black door and make the two women’s relationship rushed and almost entirely surface-level, how are they going to build her character up as a loving mother figure who is willing to do anything to save her adoptive child? The writers cannot expect the audience to simply accept Yennefer has changed and that she suddenly feels motherly love for Ciri; it has to be earned. Regarding Yennefer’s character arc in the series, all we can do is wait and see what they do with her.

Ill-thought-out humour

One thing that I find particularly jarring about season two is the near-constant injection of humour into almost all situations. This demonstrates the one-dimensional nature of some of the series’ characters. Yes, I’m looking at you, Jaskier. While Jaskier had several genuinely funny lines in season two, some of his dialogue did not align with the mood of certain scenes.

For example, Geralt catches Yennefer moments before she tries to lure Ciri to the mysterious door outside of Cintra. He’s understandably furious that the woman he loves is about to sacrifice his child surprise. Enter Jaskier, who is tasked with taking Ciri to Kaer Morhen while Geralt deals with the incredibly uncharacteristic actions of Yennefer. Instead of comforting Ciri in a moment of fear and anguish, he makes jokes, which, to me, fall flat in the circumstances.

But this isn’t the only time humour is used in the wrong places. If season two were a word, it would be the f-bomb. Throughout the course of season two, 66 f-bombs were dropped in total, 17 of which were said by Yennefer. I’m convinced the series includes the word so often because they simply ran out of good dialogue, even though the source material is full of interesting conversations that enhance the story rather than butcher it.

What Happens Next?

Season three of Netflix’s The Witcher isn’t too far away. It’s Henry Cavill’s last season as Geralt after he announced his departure from the series in October 2022. He didn’t address why he was leaving the series but simply announced that he’d be laying down his medallion and swords for season four. I’m not going to ruminate too much about his reasons for leaving — the writers drifting too far from the source material or scheduling conflicts have been cited as possible reasons for his departure. Until Cavill personally addresses his reasons for leaving, we’ll never know for certain. All I know is I’ll be sad to see him go. If I were in his position, the butchering of the source material (which Cavill was clearly passionate about) would irritate me no end.

Geralt’s upcoming facelift

The big question is how are the showrunners going to address Geralt’s dramatic face change in season four? Will Geralt’s fight with Vilgefortz lead to a severe facial disfigurement that causes him to suddenly look like Liam Hemsworth? Do the mysterious waters of Brokilon (where Geralt recovers after his skirmish with the mage) cause spontaneous facelifts? Will they pretend everything is normal and he looked like this the whole time? Losing the lead actor in the middle of a series has never ended well, and audiences are not forgiving. The expectation that we should simply accept that the lead actor has changed is entirely misguided — series, books and games fans will struggle to see past this major change.

The Time of Contempt

It’s difficult to choose a favourite book from The Witcher. All of them are fantastic, in my opinion. But for me, The Time of Contempt comes out on top. It just so happens that season three is based on this book. About season three, the Netflix series showrunner, Lauren Schmidt Hissrich, said: “What is so interesting is that season 3, to me, is the closest thing that we’ve done as a one-to-one adaptation of the books.” Anyone that has followed the show closely will know that she said something similar before about season two, so she should not be taken at her word.

What makes The Time of Contempt stand out to me is the unravelling of the Continent. The Northern Kingdoms and Nilfgaard are once again at war, Geralt, Yennefer and Ciri reunite, mages clash during the coup on Thanedd, and Ciri escapes the violence by seeking refuge in Tor Lara, the Tower of the Gull, which transports her to the far away Korath Desert.

I am scared about what the writers will do to the story in season three. Bad adaptations of people’s favourite books don’t go down well with fans, and now it’s my turn to experience it. Will we lose the emotional impact of some of the book’s most important moments to ill-timed attempts at comedy? Probably. Will the writers expect us to suddenly forgive Yennefer for almost sacrificing Geralt’s child surprise? Almost certainly. Will vital aspects of the books’ lore be ignored or completely changed to suit a non-sensical storyline? Yep.

Final Thoughts

As my poor partner has discovered, I could rant about the differences between the books and the Netflix series all day and all night. I have, inadvertently, written an extensive essay about my feelings about the major divergences from the bestselling book series (I’m passionate, OK). Now all that’s left to do is wait for the release of season three, which I’ll almost definitely write about once I’ve had a chance to calm down.

Everyone is entitled to their own opinion on all matters, and I’m always up for a good discussion about all things Witcher. So, what do you think about the points I’ve made? What would you change about the series if you were the showrunner? I’d love to know.