Review of The Witcher Season 4: How Netflix Ruined Its Main Fantasy Series

Bow down or just run in terror — for it has arrived, The Witcher Season 4 by Netflix. Yes, it really happened. To give the creators their due, by the time of release even the most neutral critics had stopped believing in the show’s success. Phenomenal. One of the most promising fantasy projects has long been writhing in its death throes. Unsurprisingly, the season was flooded with criticism and practically drowned in dislikes. And as if that weren’t enough, Netflix also released a standalone film about the Rats gang, which was originally meant to be a spin-off series — but, once again, something went wrong. Still, dissecting The Witcher is fascinating from an academic standpoint, because it’s a perfect case study of what can happen to a great story when it’s handled by people who don’t understand the source material and have no sense for the author’s tone. That’s exactly what we’ll be doing here.

In case you forgot, Netflix somehow managed to lose its titular actor. Henry Cavill was unhappy with the deviations from canon and frequently clashed with the writers’ team and showrunner Lauren Schmidt Hissrich — ultimately leading to his departure midway through production. Cavill was working for a relatively small paycheck (by Hollywood standards) and was a devoted fan of the original games and books — something Hissrich later subtly mocked in interviews.

Of course, none of this is entirely confirmed. Both Henry and Lauren have spoken very cautiously about what happened, but as time passed, more small details slipped through — enough to piece things together. Allegedly, Liam Hemsworth, the new actor playing Geralt, had been considered for the role from the start, and it was only the intervention of the difficult Henry Cavill that prevented humble Netflix and the equally humble Hissrich from realizing their grand plans for success.

That was the emotional backdrop surrounding the series during production of the new seasons, which naturally affected viewership. On the surface, though, Hemsworth actually looks fine. His Geralt most closely resembles the version from The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt — perfectly sculpted, masculine, and physically imposing. He’s less bulky than Cavill and feels a bit closer to the book canon. But there’s one major problem: unfortunately, Liam lacks charisma.

Cavill had spent three seasons refining his portrayal. Yes, the costume department kept dressing him in strange leather outfits straight out of some twisted party, and yes, they never managed to find a decent wig for the leading man — but Cavill’s Witcher felt like the Witcher. Even when Henry was silent or grunting thoughtfully, his face conveyed emotion. Hemsworth, on the other hand, simply fulfills his contract, walking through 90% of the runtime with a flawless yet lifeless expression. His Geralt is no longer a person, just a character, and he fades into the background among the many companions who travel with the monster hunter.

Even before the premiere, it was revealed how the writers chose to explain the change in actors. From now on, Geralt’s story is a fairy tale told to children — and storytellers can have different visions of the Witcher. The catch is, you’d only understand this if you happened to read about it online. If you didn’t follow the show’s rumors, the effect is unintentionally comical: we’re shown an abridged version of all three previous seasons, but now with Hemsworth.

Think about it again: the show doesn’t say there are different interpretations of Geralt, Yennefer, and Ciri — it just asks you to forget years of Cavill’s work and replace them with a fast-forwarded recap starring Liam, while keeping the rest of the cast unchanged. If that’s not blatant disrespect for an actor’s effort, then what is? By this point, the showrunner’s true attitude toward Cavill and his attempts to portray the book Witcher should be painfully clear.

Could this difficult situation have been handled differently? Of course. It would have been enough to show a debate between storytellers about Geralt’s appearance and those of the other characters — perhaps depicting four or five versions, each with unique features. That would have answered every question the audience had while preserving Cavill’s portrayal as valid, just not singular.

Hemsworth doesn’t try to imitate his predecessor — and apparently, that wasn’t the goal. Now, though, Geralt occasionally screams like a full-blown action hero, something the internet has already turned into countless memes. Could the famous Witcher have originally been like that? Possibly.

I want to stress again: the new White Wolf is a curious and sad situation, but by far not the show’s biggest problem. Hemsworth simply doesn’t have enough screen time. This season adapts the novel Baptism of Fire (Chrzest ognia), in which the three main characters don’t even meet. If Liam had been there from the start, he might have handled it better.

Let’s now talk about the story — because it only loosely follows the original book. After the mages’ rebellion, Geralt loses a battle against the sorcerer Vilgefortz; Ciri accidentally teleports into a desert, where she eventually finds a gang of killers and robbers — the Rats; and Yennefer is left to deal with the aftermath of the Thanedd coup.

Geralt recovers in Brokilon Forest under the care of the dryads, then takes Dandelion and a new ally — the archer Milva — to search for Ciri and free her from imprisonment under the Emperor of Nilfgaard. The thing is, Emhyr (that’s the Emperor’s name) holds a false Ciri, but the Witcher doesn’t know that and sincerely believes his adopted daughter is somewhere out there — in a land whose ruler is currently waging war against the Northern Kingdoms.

Overall, Geralt’s storyline in the series didn’t suffer too much. In fact, the writers freely skip large chunks of time, which completely reshapes the personalities of already familiar on-screen characters. Unexpectedly, Cahir returns to his canonical form. Few fans appreciated the version Netflix had previously shown — the once-brave young knight had been turned into a repulsive madman who, both before and after meeting Ciri, committed all sorts of questionable acts. Now, however, he rather quickly joins Geralt’s company, proves his nobility and usefulness, and eventually becomes a friend and ally of the White Wolf. Wow — just like in the book.

Jaskier’s odd tendencies were quietly forgotten, but the scope of the changes was so large that the writers still had to dedicate a significant portion of the story to King Radovid and his friendship with the bard. According to the script, the monarch — once the most dangerous maniac of the Northern realms — became that way because of a scandal involving Dandelion. Radovid switches moods with the snap of a finger, which looks more comical than believable. This incredibly trendy and original storyline, started back in Season 3, had already baffled fans from the very beginning. Jaskier — the famed womanizer and cheerful rogue — simply couldn’t be like that. Nothing has changed since then. At least, however awkwardly, the creators finally return to something closer to the original material here.

As in the novel, Geralt and Cahir share identical dreams about Ciri’s adventures. However, the show’s characters are far dumber than their book counterparts. The fact that Geralt literally sees his adopted daughter fighting monsters in a completely different setting — clearly not Nilfgaard’s throne room — doesn’t push him to any sort of realization. For reference, in the book, the White Wolf figures out through these visions that he should search for the princess elsewhere.

There’s also an entire flashback episode worth mentioning, where the heroes recall their pasts (before they met), and Dandelion eventually turns the whole thing into a full-blown musical! Yes — The Witcher now has an episode where, for nearly twenty minutes, the characters sing, accompanied by an animated backstory for Regis. Apparently, in the creators’ minds, this looked fresh and original, but in practice the episode adds nothing new — it simply wastes time while breaking the already shaky pacing over its knee.

Needless to say, the chemistry among Geralt’s company — the hansa — is nowhere near what it was in the books. It’s just a collection of characters walking somewhere, occasionally exchanging words, yet remaining strangers to one another. They’re equally distant from the viewer. Even the appearance of Zoltan Chivay — the soul of the games and main source of humor and color — feels dull and perfunctory. Apart from a few crude lines, the dwarf leaves no impression whatsoever.

Regis, however, stands out. You’ve probably already heard that the pale vampire is played by the not-so-pale Laurence Fishburne, known for his role as Morpheus in The Matrix. The show’s casting decisions have been a constant sore spot for fans since the very first season, so no one was particularly shocked this time. Regis’s portrayal not only bears no resemblance to his game incarnation but also has little in common with Sapkowski’s original.

The one redeeming touch is his hilariously bad haircut, which turns the mysterious vampire into a bit of a joke. Still, Fishburne squeezes every last drop from the material. His gestures, tone, and even his smile fit Regis surprisingly well. Once again, an actor gives his all to elevate something the creators seem determined to ruin.

Unfortunately, Regis ends up suffering the same fate as the new Geralt. If you don’t already know he’s a vampire, you’ll have a hard time figuring it out. In the books, the Witcher quickly deduces his companion’s true nature — here, his medallion doesn’t even vibrate, and he shows no suspicion whatsoever. Yet by the end of the season, the White Wolf suddenly turns to Dandelion and bluntly explains Regis’s vampiric identity. How did he figure it out? Why didn’t he discuss it with Regis directly? So many questions. Again, a single well-written scene could have fixed this — but apparently, no one cared enough.

Earlier I mentioned the time jumps — and in fact, they’re a far more serious problem than they seem. The characters only occasionally mention that months have passed since the previous scene. For viewers, it’s just a few minutes. Meanwhile, Geralt’s group keeps wandering through nearly identical landscapes, and their appearances barely change — adding even more confusion.

By the end, things devolve into pure circus. Part of the hansa splits off for personal reasons, determined to continue their journey without Geralt. The show tries to squeeze emotions out of the audience and underline the gravity of the moment — but within a few minutes, one of the characters returns. Allegedly, during that brief time apart, they reconsidered everything and made a different choice. The two scenes are separated by mere minutes.

A similar problem exists with geography — though it becomes most obvious not in the White Wolf’s storyline, but in Ciri’s.

The Ciri storyline suffered the least — though that’s hardly thanks to the writers. As I mentioned earlier, the Rats’ adventures were originally meant to become a separate series. Eventually, the episode count was slashed, and then the whole thing was turned into a movie. Ciri’s segments, on the other hand, were expanded into a full season. As a result, her storyline has a completely different tone and pacing, and even looks visually distinct. Still, it’s concise and to the point. The transitions between Geralt and Ciri are abrupt, clumsy, and sudden. Nobody even bothered to think about maintaining a consistent mood — or about the basic cinematography rule that the audience needs a few seconds to process an emotional moment. Often, when something serious or tragic happens to Geralt, the screen just cuts to black — and in the very next second, we see Ciri laughing and having fun. If the creators had given each scene just a few seconds of fade-out, the flow would’ve felt much more natural. But alas.

In this season, the princess grows up and learns to stand on her own. To be honest, I never liked the Rats even in the books — and the show didn’t change that. In my view, Andrzej Sapkowski always intended them to be ordinary bandits, not characters we should sympathize with. War children, if you will. Yes, they help Ciri, but in truth, she needs them far less than they need her. It quickly becomes clear that, for the ashen-haired girl, this is just a transitional teenage phase — nothing more. In the end, the Rats get exactly what they deserve.

For some reason, the showrunners decided to emphasize that the gang isn’t so bad after all — even trying to present them as some kind of dream team worthy of a spin-off. Hopefully, someone in charge managed to explain to Lauren Hissrich what a terrible idea that was, and that’s why the finished project was eventually scrapped. The few fragments that did make it to the screen don’t really develop the characters — but honestly, they don’t inspire much interest either. Especially when compared to Geralt’s own band, which suffers from similar issues. It would’ve been better to focus on them instead. Still, the Rats are part of the original story, just like many other questionable elements. Cutting them entirely would’ve made little sense. And after all, this is where Leo Bonhart appears — one of the most terrifying villains in the entire saga, who first debuted in Baptism of Fire.

Bonhart is a witcher killer and a sadistic maniac who delights in the pain and blood of others. Sapkowski never really explained how an aging swordsman could kill trained mutants, but it’s worth remembering that the witchers in the books weren’t exactly superhuman either. Bonhart is played by Sharlto Copley — a well-known and memorable actor, though rarely seen in high-budget productions. His forte lies in solid mid-range projects where actors have creative freedom. And Copley excels at playing villains — not just bad guys, but unhinged, psychotic killers. Finding a better candidate for Leo would be hard. And, miracle of miracles, when the casting isn’t dictated by diversity points, things actually start working. Bonhart is exactly as one imagines him — which, in itself, makes him stand out sharply against the backdrop of forced racial inclusivity, tolerance, and messaging. Many viewers have already dubbed Leo the breakout star of Season 4. Not Geralt, mind you — but pure, unfiltered evil, the kind that evokes only disgust in the books.

To wrap up the discussion of the second storyline, let’s return to what I mentioned earlier — the geographical inconsistencies. There’s a scene where Ciri slaughters a gang in a tattoo parlor. She stays there for a while, and later, Bonhart examines the corpses, having tracked down the princess and her group. In other words, only a couple of hours should’ve passed between Ciri’s presence there and Bonhart’s arrival. Yet somehow, Leo can’t find Ciri for ages — apparently within the same city. Then it turns out he’s in another city altogether, though visually there’s no way to tell. And the Nilfgaardian capital? Sometimes it’s a twenty-minute walk away, sometimes it’s on another continent. Miraculous. Because of moments like these, it’s hard to take the world seriously — it feels less like a TV series and more like a stage play, where the actors step offstage for a moment and reappear somewhere “completely different.”

However, the biggest problems in the new season revolve around Yennefer. What the creators have done to the sorceresses defies all logic. To call it bad would be an understatement. And that’s ironic, because Yennefer’s subplot could’ve been a goldmine for modern screenwriters. This is the book where the raven-haired sorceress grows tremendously as a character and, for the first time, fully embraces the role of a mother. What’s more, this is where the Lodge of Sorceresses appears — a secret circle of powerful and independent women meant to rule the Continent from the shadows. Nothing even needed to be invented — Sapkowski had already paid due respect to his female characters. But no, that wasn’t enough. For some reason, in the creators’ vision, Yennefer wasn’t just supposed to be important, but the most important. Not just a sorceress — the central figure of everything. And so, she ends up leading literally everyone, turning into a full-blown resistance leader, Sarah Connor of the Continent — or someone close to it. The situation gets worse when her main opponent becomes a vile man, Vilgefortz, who surpasses all the women in every way — leaving them no chance to win.

At this point, fans have every reason to groan. Sure, Vilgefortz is one of the main antagonists of the story — but he’s nowhere near the overblown supervillain the show turns him into. After the Thanedd coup, he disappears from the sorceresses’ radar and focuses entirely on Ciri. And let’s not forget — both Yennefer, Francesca Findabair, and especially Philippa Eilhart are among the most powerful individuals on the Continent. In an open battle against all of them, Vilgefortz wouldn’t stand a chance simply by virtue of numbers. Unfortunately, that would’ve been too simple for the writers. Besides, Yennefer’s role in the book is relatively passive — something the showrunners couldn’t allow. Lauren Hissrich repeatedly stated that the sorceress and the princess are the true central figures of the story, not Geralt — even though the entire book series is named after him.

Now, here’s what happens: Vilgefortz gathers an army of renegade mages, while Yennefer assembles her own army of sorceresses. Thanks to some kind of elven magic, the villain shuts down portals, cutting off the women’s ability to teleport. Yet all their other magic works perfectly fine — remember that detail. Yennefer, Triss, and Philippa prepare for an attack on their new magical fortress. Suddenly, it turns out that the Chaos from which they draw their power is finite and running out — so the sorceresses must… learn to fight with swords! The fact that, back in Season One, we saw them draw energy from flowers and other sources is completely forgotten. The evil Vilgefortz is now so powerful that he not only controls Chaos but also consumes the life force of his followers to expand his abilities. To train the women, the witchers themselves arrive — and, get this, they travel from faraway Kaer Morhen without portals, reaching the fortress in just a couple of days, cheerfully handing out swords and, for some reason, bows. Needless to say, this is an absolute disaster on every level.

In the end, Yennefer is stabbing people with a dagger, Vesemir dies fighting Vilgefortz — completely erasing any hope of connecting the show with the games. From this point on, the finale could go in any direction, and the inclusion of the Wild Hunt is now in serious doubt.

On a somewhat amusing note, I noticed that all the most questionable casting choices among the sorceresses end up getting killed off, leaving only Fringilla Vigo, Triss, and Yennefer in the diversity-friendly squad. The first one, by the way, gets tortured in Vilgefortz’s castle — even though she’s supposed to have a future beyond that. There’s also an unintentionally hilarious scene where Philippa tries to move a lever on a water tower with her hands, apparently forgetting that she’s, well, a mage. The sorceresses only remember to use magic — and drop their swords — the moment the portal network comes back online, as if that’s their ultimate combat spell.

Is there anything in this season worth praising? Strangely enough — yes. I have to highlight the fight choreography. The Witcher has finally developed its own distinct style of swordplay, unlike anything else on television. I’d describe it as practical realism — within the logic of this fictional world, of course. The witcher doesn’t flail around; he makes as few moves as possible, but each one is deliberate and efficient. Fans will recognize a few techniques from the games, while others are brand new — even compared to previous seasons. Granted, not all fights are narratively justified — some seem to exist just for the sake of having a fight — but they’re still entertaining to watch. The overall tone of the show has also shifted. The dark, muted color palette is gone — replaced with a brighter, more fairy-tale-like fantasy look. Practically any moment from the first season feels darker than the entirety of the fourth. Whether that’s good or bad is a matter of taste.

In the end, we’re left with a rather disheartening picture. It feels as though the show’s creators only skimmed the book summaries, paying no attention to detail or to the atmosphere that made The Witcher special. The new season resembles a mid-budget stage play more than a fantasy epic — and that’s despite the astronomical budget. I’ll say something that sounds heretical: watching the chaos of The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power is actually more enjoyable.

Now all we can do is wait for the final season’s premiere. It’s already been filmed, by the way — which honestly makes me a little uneasy. I’m almost afraid to imagine what’s in store for our beloved characters.