The beauty of HBO’s iconic, zeitgeist-shaping phenomenon “Game of Thrones” is the way it subverted its audience’s expectations regarding fantasy archetypes and narrative tropes. The show’s greatest subversive act was not killing off Ned Stark in season one, or even season three’s infamous Red Wedding. No, the greatest trick “Game of Thrones” ever pulled was airing an incongruous, nigh-incomprehensible, finale that reminded the world how little impact poorly executed subversion produces.
As creatives and showrunners race to recapture the lightning that the disappointing “Thrones” finale released from its bottle, it’s become evident that being subversive is no longer an act of subversion—it’s the new normal.
Perhaps what is more problematic is the way that “Game of Thrones” is now the standard to which every show—particularly if it’s also fantasy—is held.
Consider Netflix’s new series “The Witcher,” whose first season went live on Dec. 20. The show received a lukewarm reception critically—it currently sits at 66 percent on Rotten Tomatoes—and is often derided for a confusing timeline and a lack of effort in its worldbuilding. Yet, despite the mixed critical reception, the show has amassed a fervent following and Netflix recently reported that the show is pacing to be the streaming service’s biggest first-season original TV show ever.
If Henry Cavill’s muscles were all it took to make something a hit, then Batman v. Superman would be much more widely beloved. Something else is obviously going on here. “The Witcher,” WTF?
The disconnect between the show’s critical and audience reception comes from the former’s assumption that the Netflix hit is trying to be “Game of Thrones” and the latter’s celebration that “The Witcher,” although still fantasy, is embracing its own identity. While “Thrones” was a massive, continents-spanning tale of nuanced political intrigue, “The Witcher” is more interested in spending time with its characters and the relationships between them—worldbuilding and lore refreshingly take a back seat in the show’s first season.
Rather than bend over backwards for some kind of half-earned plot twist, “The Witcher” introduces us to a cast of characters that seemingly lean into their tropes and thus the audience’s expectations for them. In a popular media landscape that relies on subversion, a cast of characters that unapologetically aligns with comfortable archetypes feels refreshing and unique.
These archetypes inform a quick understanding of each character and, because the characters aren’t unnecessarily complex, it makes it easier to become invested in their relationships and the interactions between them. In turn, these relationships deepen the characters and cause them to evolve as the season progresses.
In the “Game of Thrones” finale, Tyrion Lannister famously posited: “Who has a better story than Bran the Broken?” Well, the answer seems to be a silver-haired Cavill cosplaying as a beefy Legolas from Lord of the Rings.
Cavill’s titular witcher, Geralt of Rivia, is a monster hunter for hire—buff, gruff, tough and ready to steal your heart. One thing he isn’t ready for is parenthood, but destiny has other plans and the season constantly reminds him his path is linked to a mysterious young princess named Ciri.
Geralt is a strong silent type that likes talking to his horse more than he does people. Although it’s been done before, the silent badass trope serves to better explore Geralt’s relationships because, since the audience already knows what to expect, it makes the few significant words he uses more telling.
Some of the season’s best scenes are when Geralt makes it evident he evolves and changes—though only to a certain extent. Throughout the eight-episode run he makes friends and opens up to new people while always frustratingly reverting back to his archetype at the worst possible moments.
Toss a coin to the two loves of Geralt’s life; the biggest impetuses for this evolution are Jaskier—an archetypical, horny bard that Geralt disappointingly refuses to acknowledge as a best friend—and Yennefer—the sultry, powerful enchantress Geralt is head-over-heels for. Jaskier and Yennefer unlock Geralt and make him more personable and likable. The show may be named after him, but Geralt wouldn’t be worth watching if these two weren’t around.
Also worth noting is the way “The Witcher” doesn’t necessarily rely on character deaths for its emotional impact. Ned Stark’s head on the chopping block may have made that idea vogue, but Netflix’s show is a reminder that sometimes something as simple as a lovers’ quarrel and two people saying goodbye can be just as gutting.
“The Witcher” isn’t a perfect show; it’s certainly messy and confusing at times but that’s okay. Most confusing is inarguably the arc regarding the political, warhawking Nilfgaardian empire and their aims at taking over The Continent—the landmass which hosts all the series’ action.
Although it isn’t always clear, “The Witcher” trusts its audience to piece the plot together and clean up some of the mess because at its core, the show is an intimate story about people, not a sweeping political epic like “Thrones.” At the end of the season, you may not care who the Nilfgaardians are, but you will certainly care about the problematic, surly protagonist and his quest to develop basic interpersonal skills.
