MGM+’s The Winter King Owes More to Game of Thrones Than the Story of King Arthur

The story of King Arthur is one of history’s most enduring legends. A boy from humble beginnings who miraculously manages to pull a sword from a stone is perhaps the most traditionally classic version of the “chosen one” archetype, a foundational myth that influences characters as diverse as Luke Skywalker and Harry Potter today. Yes, the end of Arthur’s tale is a tragic one. Camelot ultimately falls. The people he loves most betray him. He makes many mistakes. But even in this final darkness, there remains a ray of light—after all, one thing the many versions of the Arthur myth have in common is that they aren’t over. Not really. There’s a reason he is called the once and future king; he is meant to return one day, at the hour in which England has most need of him. And that is a comforting thought. 

At the end of the day, Arthur matters because his story is, at its heart, an aspirational one; an exhortation to ourselves and our society to be and do better than we have before, to make of the world our own Camelot where we can, and to hold fast to the idea that even in the darkest times, there is hope. This is probably the reason so many Arthurian retellings exist, from feature films and television series to musical productions both serious and satirical. We love this story. But I’m starting to wonder if we’re somehow missing the point of it, if only because our pop culture has long struggled to make a truly good King Arthur adaptation. 

Making decency compelling has long been a challenge for the entertainment industry, which seems forever convinced that the idea of goodness is somehow synonymous with boring. And rather than explore the hard work inherent in repeatedly choosing the path of light over darkness, we’re instead inundated with grim and gritty subversions of the core tenants of the Arthur myth, stories that are more interested in breaking the hero and his world down rather than building it up. On television, a lot of the blame for this trend lies with HBO’s Game of Thrones, which spent the better part of a decade telling viewers that traditionally “good”-coded characters like Sansa or Bran Stark were boring whiners, while more transgressive figures like Daenerys Targaryen and Cersei Lannister flourished as the ostensible heroes of the story. 

The long tail of Game of Thrones’ influence is certainly apparent in MGM+’s The Winter King, an Arthurian reimagining told by way of Westeros rather than Camelot. Set in 5th century Britain and based on the popular Warlord Chronicles series of novels by Bernard Cromwell, this is a series that attempts to add some realism and historical context to the Arthur myth, casting the famous hero as an unloved bastard son struggling to unite the warring and fractious tribes of Britain against the invading Saxon army. As a result, The Winter King is an Arthur retelling that eschews questions of morality and justice in favor of complicated political intrigue, bloody battle sequences, and graphic violence, all with a dollop of uncomfortable sexual menace on top. 

Exiled from the land of Dumnonia by his father, the High King Uther (Eddie Marsan), Arthur’s (Iain De Caestecker) formative years are spent (offscreen) in Gaul, which probably should have been our first inclination that this show’s not particularly interested in Arthur’s story for its own sake. Nearly a decade later, he returns home to protect the child Mordred, his half-brother and the realm’s new heir. In the meantime, we’ve been introduced to at least a half dozen squabbling local leaders with competing goals and agendas, most notably Bishop Bedwin (Steven Elder), busy attempting to bring souls to the new Christian religion; Gundleus (Simon Merrells), the brutish King of Siluria; and the cunning King Gorfydd (Aneirin Hughes), all of whom are jockeying for power and influence. 

The druid Merlin (Nathan Martello-White), for his part, believes that the child Mordred will one day be their country’s ruin, and should be killed to prevent the bloody visions of the havoc he will one day bring about from coming to pass. As a result, Arthur must walk a tightrope between protecting Dumnonia, balancing the tension between its pagan and Christian subjects, and moving his country—and all of Britain—into position to face the larger threats of the future.