Lessons from Shadow and Bone
*contains spoilers for Shadow and Bone’s season one and book of the same name
Netflix’s Shadow and Bone, adapted from Leigh Bardugo’s hugely popular Grishaverse series, was finally released on April 23, with an impressive 55 million households tuning in during its first 28 days. Forecast both as the next Game of Thrones and the fantasy show that would resolve the genre’s long-standing diversity problem, Shadow and Bone invites some added scrutiny to just how well it holds up.
Now officially renewed for a second season, it’s a great opportunity to examine what the show infers about book adaptations, representation in media and how we consume YA fantasy.
How to Adapt Book-to-Screen
There have been some questionable screen adaptations of YA fantasy book series; The Mortal Instruments, Percy Jackson & the Olympians and Divergent. Book adaptations are often underwhelming because of the technical difficulty of transposing fantasy storyworlds page to reality, as well as the stratospheric expectations set by their legions of devoted readers. That being said, Shadow and Bone not only succeeds in this ill-fated enterprise, it also elevates the source material.
Bardugo’s Grishaverse includes the Shadow and Bone trilogy, the Six of Crows duology and the latest King of Scars duology, published between 2012 and 2021. The show adapts from Shadow and Bone’s first book, also incorporating prequel storylines of the protagonists from Six of Crows. Grisha are individuals with the ability to practice magic (Small Science), categorised by the earthly matter they can influence. The worldmap centers on Ravka, inspired by Tsarist Russia, with Shu Han to the South, Fjerda to North, Novyi Zem across The True Sea to the West, and Kerch, an island in between. The show establishes that Ravka is not only at war with Shu Han (based on China and Mongolia), but must also destroy The Shadow Fold - a border of darkness summoned centuries earlier by a Grisha known as the Black Heretic - which divides Ravka, trapping them between Northern and Southern enemies.
Our protagonist is Alina Starkov (Jessie Mei Li), a half-Shu orphan and army cartographer who unknowingly harbours the obscure Grisha gift of the Sun Summoner, the very power needed to destroy The Fold. She is joined by tracker Mal Oretsev (Archie Reneaux), her best-friend-and-maybe-something-more from the orphanage they grew up in together. When Alina’s power is discovered, she meets General Kirigan (Ben Barnes), a Shadow Summoner also known as the Darkling and relative of the Black Heretic, who strives to atone for his bloodline’s wrongdoing. Meanwhile, in Ketterdam, the Kerch capital, we meet the Crows: “Dirtyhands” Kaz Brekker (Freddy Carter), the spy Inej Ghafa (Amita Suman), known as The Wraith, and sharpshooting flirt Jesper Fahey (Kit Young), each members of a gang called the Dregs. We also see the backstory of Nina Zenik (Danielle Galligan), a waffle-obsessed Grisha radical, and the stubbornly pious Fjderan Matthias Helvar (Calahan Skogman), who belongs to a holy order of Grisha-hunting soldiers known as the Drüskelle.
Balancing these narratives demands precise storytelling. Fortunately, the production of Shadow and Bone showed a clear determination to get this right. Likely due in part to Bardugo’s role as executive producer, she worked closely with the showrunner, Eric Heisserer, to ensure their vision was achieved. Bardugo had turned down numerous offers to adapt her work in the past. At the 2020 New York Comic Con she expressed how Heisserer’s intentions finally aligned with her own: “in terms of inclusion and... how we wanted to staff the room.” Heisserer’s genuine respect for the Grishaverse and its readers was another key deciding factor, given how often YA literature is dismissed as girlish fluff. Bardugo had become disenchanted with Hollywood executives desperately trying to franchise her work but caring little for its content.
However, the author’s skepticism towards Hollywood wasn’t about a purist defense of her writing. Bardugo was keen on making changes, and acknowledged that Shadow and Bone perpetuates outdated fantasy tropes modelled from the genre’s white, male blueprint. The most apparent book-to-screen revision was adding Alina’s Shu heritage. Jessie Mei Li, who is half Chinese, spoke at the 2021 IGN FanFest about her initial concern that Alina’s mixed background was tokenistic, but was later relieved to see her own experiences reflected in the character’s story. Likewise, Amita Suman considered the role of Inej, who is Suli (a nomadic people culturally similar to South Asia), as a hint of positive industry shifts. Suman, who moved from Nepal to England aged seven, was told she couldn’t be an actor given the lack of opportunities for her.
Shadow and Bone goes beyond casting actors who epitomise each character, the show also maintains clarity throughout its worldbuilding. The level of detail in the costumes (Wendy Partridge) and set dressing, as well as the stunning on-set locations in Hungary, create a vibrant and immersive storyworld - from the hedonistic hum of Ketterdam to the royal extravagance of the Little and Grand Palace. With such thoughtfully crafted settings, the impressive visual effects then heighten the sense of place without domineering the aesthetics.
Ok, so it looks good. But Shadow and Bone also adapts the books in a smart, compelling way. The writers spliced the Crows’ plot with the events of the first Shadow and Bone novel seamlessly, conserving the humour and cautious intimacy that defines their companionship. They were notably considerate of essential book-to-screen translations, exchanging the descriptive inner turmoil between Kaz and Inej with a whole lot of emotionally-charged eye contact. This is especially significant given the underlying trauma of both these characters. Hints of this are delicately shown through small moments of how Kaz positions himself around others. Suffering from osteonecrosis and sometimes using a cane herself, Bardugo has said she unravelled a lot of her own internalised ableism through his character. The writers also remain true to the complexities of Inej, who was trafficked into sex work, mindfully conveying her negotiation between the corrupt world of Ketterdam and her faith.
Overall, Shadow and Bone builds a strong foundation for its characters, with season two likely providing some much-needed depth for the likes of Jesper and rageful Zoya Nazyalensky (Sujaya Dasgupta). The GOT comparison is undue (and terrible for expectations), not only because it thankfully avoids gratuitous sex and violence, but also because the show still needs to hone its political nuance and storytelling. Still, as far as book-to-screen adaptations go, Shadow and Bone is one of the great ones.
The Limits of Diversity
An inescapable thread of discussion surrounding Shadow and Bone is its commitment to diversity. Yet, Netflix has a dubious past where representation is concerned, and looking beneath their polished and well-marketed facade reveals the ways in which they are still not pulling their weight.
Early on, complaints were raised online about Jesper and Nina being cast at odds with their physical description. Characters often undergo superficial changes book-to-screen, however, the problem lies in what adjustments were made. Jesper, who is half Zemeni (Novyi Zem is inspired by Sub-Saharan Africa and Australia) and half Kaelish (from the Irish-inspired Wandering Isle) is described as having dark skin but played by a light-skinned actor, continuing a pattern in which Netflix boasts diversity while exhibiting colourism (Bridgerton). Within this limited portrait of representation, it both excludes members of the Black community and narrows our perception of what biracial people can look like.
As for Nina, described by Bardugo as canonically plus-sized, fans were disappointed when they felt the actor cast did not quite fit into this grouping. Again, Netflix shows are guilty of portraying plus-sized women negatively; often desexualised with narratives solely about their weight (Penelope from Bridgerton, Terra from Winx Club). In the books, Nina’s size is never used to invalidate her sense of worth. She is self-assured, compassionate, alluring as well as plus-sized, not despite it.
While both Young and Galligan embody these characters perfectly, fans’ criticism derives from ongoing frustrations at either being underrepresented or misrepresented, mostly at the hands of creators outside these communities. Mainstream media has constructed a very palatable and commodified image of what diversity should look like, and although it’s hard to pinpoint who shared deciding power, minority narratives are continuously refined to fit this construction.
Following Shadow and Bone’s release, some viewers found the racism that Alina was subjected to particularly jarring and unnecessary. This was informed by writer Christina Strain, who is half Korean, and she praised the show for giving her the space to interweave her experienced sense of otherness into the character’s story. It is indeed necessary to question whether racism is required in every POC narrative, fantasy or otherwise, but the strained portrayal of Alina’s racism also stems from a lack of adequate context for the political conflict between Shu Han and Ravka.
A more subtle dimension of Bardugo’s work is inspired by her Sephardic and Ashkenazi Jewish background, with parallels between Grisha and Jews in 19th century Russia as well as post World War II. Her careful integration of Jewish history into the persecution faced by Grisha further accents the somewhat disjointed execution of Alina’s racism. This highlights a pitfall of diversifying your characters without appropriately reworking the narrative. Hopefully, this is revised for season two and onwards, in which more Shu characters are introduced and more nuance is afforded to the storyworld’s political intrigue.
Shadow and Bone also brought a more controversial industry practice to light when fans unearthed a behind the scenes photo showing Suman’s white stunt double, Hungarian aerialist and dancer Vellai Krisztina, darkened with make-up to match Suman’s skin tone. Because of Inej’s background in acrobatics, a double was needed for her aerial performance in the show. Known as “painting down”, this is still commonplace for both white and POC stunt performers, tangled up in a combination of rigid safety requirements, lacking opportunities for women of colour in stunt work, and a misunderstanding of the dark history of brownface, blackface and yellowface in entertainment.
Fans took to social media to demand a response from Netflix, who offered no comment on the situation. In a GAL-DEM interview, when asked whether it required their attention, Suman stated: “I think that’s a really, really great question, and I would love to answer it. But because I didn’t have any choice of who my stunt double was going to be, I think that’s a great question for Netflix. I don’t feel it’s right for me to say anything as of yet… If, say, we go for a Season Two, I want to see the things that I can improve on.”
It is entirely unsurprising that Netflix remains silent on these issues, for they benefit in cultivating an impression of social progress without addressing the core problems that foster inequality. Bettering industry practices requires radical solutions throughout each facet of media production that dismantle these aspects of entertainment. While it should be the bare minimum that Netflix guarantees an inclusive and respectful work environment, the industry’s surface-level approach to representation, determined by a capitalist framework, is not obligated to extend that far.
Shadow and Bone illustrates how the intent to showcase diversity calls into question both the nature of ‘accurate’ representation and the incongruity of championing diversity within an industry that actively works to uphold the system that exploits it. This dilemma is explored in Anamik Saha’s text, Race and the Cultural Industries, in which they clarify how Western liberal democracies approach diversity within a market logic (how it strengthens economic growth and competition), without looking to confront the root of societal inequalities.
Media giants, such as Netflix, worsen the problem by monopolising over production and distribution, operating within a neoliberal set of policies. Saha explains how even mainstream media that challenges normative ideas of race, gender or sexuality happens “because of these policies, however much it may feel as if they happened in spite of them (p.83).” In turn, diversity becomes yet another function to support capitalist expansion, regardless of the intentions set forth by smaller industry players.
“Be careful of powerful men”
Spoken by Genya Safin (Daisy Head) as a disguised warning against General Kirigan, this line foreshadows a pivotal development in Alina’s perception of her own power and the Darkling.
Genya, a Tailor (Grisha with the ability to change someone’s appearance), was gifted by Kirigan to the Queen when she arrived at the Little Palace, subsequently working as his spy. When Alina confronts Genya following Kirigan’s deception (surprise, he’s actually the Black Heretic), Genya discloses that the King has been sexually assaulting her, and that Kirigan never intervened. It is a key moment shared between these young women, for it reshapes the tentative relationship Alina had started with the Darkling and uncovers the cruel, manipulative reality of his character.
A recurring symptom of YA series is for the romantic subplot to be marketed more heavily than darker themes. Media attention for The Hunger Games film adaptation saw the political commentary and raw exploration of trauma overshadowed by whether Katniss should end up with Peeta or Gale. While romance can certainly co-exist with other motifs, and often adds a layer of complexity to these stories, shipping wars between Mal and the Darkling should not overcome discourse of Shadow and Bone. Not only because it would be a disservice to the stronger themes of the Grishaverse, but also because the Darkling should not be romanticised.
A centuries-old war criminal stripped of his humanity, the Darkling routinely grooms young women, including Zoya and Alina, as well as allowing Genya to remain at the King’s mercy. As his mother Baghra (Zoë Wanamaker) says, “He’s had centuries to master lying to naive girls.” The Darkling is an excellent villain. Not because he is redeemable, but because he is magnetic, seductive and driven by an objectively worthy cause. At least, before he is corrupted by dark magic (merzost). His backstory further demonstrates how witnessing the oppression of your people for centuries might skew your perception of the greater good. Speaking on the Write or Die Podcast in 2019, Bardugo clarifies: “The reason I wrote him sexy was because the most difficult problematic relationships we have in our lives don’t look like evil on a stick walking in… These wounded boys, they get away with a lot of shit they shouldn’t… People will forgive anything of these characters.”
The dynamic between Alina and the Darkling is one of the best components of the series. It both calls attention to this kind of subtle manipulation and anchors the trilogy’s wider exploration of power. With complementary gifts of light and darkness, they share a uniquely intimate understanding of each other. It is Alina’s struggle for autonomy alongside the Darkling’s greed for control that defines the ambivalence of their relationship. His pursuit of infinite power is represented by the amplifiers, objects that heighten Grisha abilities, artfully conveyed on the show with the invasive prosthetic stag antlers that burrow into Alina’s collarbone (an elegant necklace in the books), using body horror to emphasise its brutal consequence.
--
Shadow and Bone is visually beautiful, rewarding and fulfils a mythical style of worldbuilding. While the show underscores the limits to representation within the current industry landscape, it still brings these beloved characters to life in a meaningful way.
