The Winter King review: Arthurian legend gets a grim, bloody, satisfying makeover

The hunger for gritty fantasy that Game Of Thrones fed over eight seasons remains unsated to judge by House Of The Dragon and durable imitators such as The Witcher and The Wheel Of Time. Now comes a grim-tastic reboot of the medieval IP where it all began: Arthurian legend. Based on novelist Bernard Cornwell’s 1990s Warlord Trilogy, The Winter King introduces new (well, historical) place names and downplays magic in favor of psychology. Justifying its violence and doomy atmosphere through scenic location shots and root-worthy heroes, MGM+’s engrossing series, which premieres August 20, presents Arthur as a moody savior in a fallen world.

Just as GOT traced the evolution of chivalric values in a brutal realm where might makes right, The Winter King represents young Arthur’s effort to unite fifth-century Britain as an arduous and bloody quest, not necessarily guaranteed to succeed. (At least he doesn’t have to deal with ice zombies or dragons.) Over the first half of the 10-episode season, there is no Camelot, no knights at a round table, and zero Guinevere sightings. (She arrives in episode six.) As for the fabled sword in the stone, Excalibur turns up as a rusty, battered blade that Arthur discovers near his mother’s abandoned grave. Arthur becomes fascinated with the turquoise-hilted weapon, in effect processing his childhood trauma and turning it into strength.

In place of the traditional Arthurian story elements, we have Dumnonia (present-day Cornwall), ruled by High King Uther Pendragon (Eddie Marsan), whose castle stronghold is Caer Cadarn. From this subterranean labyrinth, Uther tries to repel advances by the rapacious Saxons while managing alliances with regional chieftains such as King Gorfydd (Aneirin Hughes) of Powys. Fifth-century England is splintered into hostile, constantly warring tribes. (Post-Brexit Britons and present-day Americans can relate.) After a humiliating defeat in battle against the Saxons, Arthur (Iain De Caestecker) brings home the body of Uther’s son, Mordred. Before the court, Uther beats the bastard Arthur to a bloody pulp before banishing him.

The divisions are not just over land and kingly succession; religious change is sweeping England, too. The old Druidic belief embodied by wise, gentle Merlin (Nathaniel Martello-White) and his protege Nimue (Ellie James) is being supplanted by Christianity, as preached by the goodhearted bishop Bedwin (Steven Elder). Merlin and Nimue live in Avalon, a utopian community that values equality and connection with nature—the sort of humanist values lacking in patriarchal hellholes like Caer Cadarn. Interestingly, you might think Christianity would be a force for peace in post-Roman Britain, but it’s cynically used as a decoy by faithless power mongers. Merlin’s magic is not so much supernatural as it is carefully staged. During a betrothal ceremony, a wooden bull hoisted over a fire belches smoke and white doves are released from hidden doors in its back.

Ultimately, The Winter King—elegantly scripted by Kate Brooke and Ed Whitmore and handsomely directed by Otto Bathurst—is about the sacrifice of personal happiness for the good of the nation. Arthur is the overachiever bastard son of an abusive father, banished by his horrible dad to Armorica (France), returning as leader of warriors who live by a code of honor. He is, then, a natural tactician born with a sense of justice. “You make others seem slow, sluggish,” Merlin tells him. “Nothing fosters enemies like envy.” Arthur doesn’t even pause to wash the blood caked on his face before dutifully galloping away from the homicidal Uther’s court.

En route to banishment, Arthur comes upon a village that has been raided and destroyed by the depraved Silurians. Amid the smoking ruins and corpses, he finds a death pit in which a young boy, impaled on a stake, moans. Arthur lifts the kid off the stake and takes him to Avalon to be treated by Merlin and Nimue. The youth survives and grows up to be Derfel (Stuart Campbell), another key player. (It’s never explained how Derfel got his Scottish brogue, but we’ll let that pass.) The young Saxon is sweet and sensitive and very much in love with Nimue, but finds himself drawn to a warrior’s life, for better or worse.

The first five episodes watched for this review are mostly concerned with the battle for the throne of Dumnonia. Uther’s daughter-in-law gives birth to the child who will one day be king, but upon touching the newborn Mordred’s club foot, Merlin has a dreadful vision. “I saw fire, slaughter, ruin,” the wizard explains. “The death of Britain. That child will do the Saxons’ bidding…only Arthur can stop him.” But Arthur has sworn to protect the child, even if that means his eventual defeat and death (but we’re getting ahead of ourselves).

For all its graphic bloodshed (which spares neither infants nor dogs), the series doesn’t glorify gore; the killing is full of terror and remorse. Derfel and the battle-hardened warrior Owain (Daniel Ings) carry out a botched raid on a tin mine, which becomes a chaotic carnage witnessed by a young girl in hiding. The second episode is especially gruesome, as the Silurians, led by the villainous Gundleus (Simon Merrells), use rape and pillaging to subdue the inhabitants of Avalon as he seeks his rival, the Edling (baby) king.

The cast is strong and characters dimensional as they face their various trials. Ellie James’ Nimue has a witchy intensity but also a vulnerability that grows after a terrible assault. Campbell’s Derfel is the innocent who learns the world is more corrupt than he ever imagined. And Iain De Caestecker shades what could have been a grim and resigned Arthur by introducing touches of humor and self-doubt. Playing Merlin as a serene shaman, Martello-White has natural charisma, but one wishes the writers had infused greater wit and flamboyance into him: more Gandalf and less Gandhi.

Carved as it is from three popular novels (which this reviewer has not read), the storytelling is meaty and well paced, with enough subplots and locations to hold your attention. James North’s production design takes us from dank, claustrophobic dungeons to beautiful vistas in southwest England and Wales, creating a believable sense of antiquity and scale. Although not to be confused with actual medieval history, The Winter King proves that you don’t need myth or magic to spin a mesmerizing epic, as fantasy benefits from a healthy dose of reality.

The Winter King premieres August 20 on MGM+