"The Witcher." How can I concisely sum up the grandeur, the utter brilliance, the mind blowing originality, the dazzling spectacle that was the twenty minute span I was able to tolerate until the nausea took hold and overcame my defenses? Before I took the remote from it's scabbard across my back and put an end to the horrific threat to the kingdom of my creative integrity?

Writing worthy of a junior high creative writing class filled entirely with junior varsity football players, one of whose little brothers once played D&D because he thought the DM's seventeen year old sister was really hot.

Acted by people with plenty of time in their schedules because the local community theater rejected them.

Costumed so consistently that I'm sure there's not a thrift store anywhere in North America or Europe without an empty "Used Prom Dresses" rack. The Witcher himself looks like he shopped at Dress Barn...in 1986. God save us from shoulder pads.

I'm sure the books are great, blah blah blah. Henry Caville should hunger game his agent.