The latest season of The Witcher was an abomination, marking a significant betrayal of one of my most cherished literary and gaming franchises. This adaptation represents a quintessential example of source material being Hollywoodized—sacrificed at the altar of contemporary relevance. As with countless recent intellectual properties, prioritizing “The Message” for a “modern audience” has superseded any commitment to narrative fidelity, resulting in a jarring imposition of sociopolitical agendas, specifically LGBTQ, DEI, and “Girl Boss” tropes.

The transformation of key characters is particularly egregious. Ciri’s abrupt portrayal as a lesbian, complete with a Black partner, feels like a calculated, formulaic inclusion that panders to current trends. It stands in stark contrast to the original vision of author Andrzej Sapkowski, whose formative years under communist rule in Poland make it highly improbable that he shares this particular cultural enthusiasm. Had such themes been integral to his world-building, they surely would have been organically woven into his novels. Similarly, Yennefer, a character whose power is intrinsically tied to her mastery of arcane magic, has been reductively reframed as a mere “flat-out girl boss.” Her reliance on sorcery is discarded in favor of brute-force physical combat, as demonstrated when she single-handedly incapacitates a cohort of soldiers with a common hammer. This not only undermines the established power dynamics of the world but fundamentally cheapens her character arc.

Perhaps the most baffling decision is the continued sidelining of Geralt of Rivia, the titular Witcher and the narrative anchor of the entire series. His diminished role often relegates him to a secondary figure who contributes negligibly to the central plot progression. This creative choice provides a clear rationale for why Henry Cavill, a well-known enthusiast and custodian of the IP, chose to exit the production after three seasons, necessitating his replacement by Christopher Hemsworth’s arguably less-talented brother.

The pervasive insistence on superficial “diversity” creates a pervasive visual incoherence. The casting is so uniformly dispersed that it strips any sense of regional or geographical distinctiveness from the settings, preventing the audience from truly locating a scene within a consistent fantasy world. Furthermore, the inclusion of characters like Black elves is a deviation that exists exclusively within these modern television adaptations—such as The Rings of Power, The Wheel of Time, and The Witcher—and is completely absent from the source novels. Finally, considering the staggering production budget of $221 million for just eight episodes, one would anticipate a standard of costume design that transcends the appearance of cheap garments sourced from a local thrift shop or seasonal Halloween retailer.

In summation, the entire viewing experience felt less like a serious adaptation and more like a poorly executed parody, raising questions about the creative judgment and stewardship of this once-esteemed property.