In the mid-'60s, during a car ride over the hills of Hampshire, a father began to tell his daughters a story to pass the time about two rabbits named Fiver and Hazel. This was the first idea for Watership down. Adams would not officially write it for many years after, largely due to much persisting from his two daughters who loved the story dearly. I wish I could give them my thanks, for I too have grown to love the story so deeply that I often keep a copy in my backpack wherever I go. A few years after I first read the book I saw the 1972 film based on it, which honestly frightened me as a child. However, I grew to appreciate it immensely as a visually captivating retelling of the story. So, when I heard Netflix was releasing a miniseries based on Watership Down, I was thrilled. I watched the trailers and, despite somewhat questionable animation, was eagerly awaiting its release. The dissatisfaction I felt after completing the four-part miniseries was palpable. The changes, some seemingly small and others drastically different, shocked me. I hope that by looking through all the alterations in character, plot, and symbolism I can highlight just how much an adaptation can go wrong, and give you an example of how straying too far from the source material can truly diminish the story.
As one of the main characters, Fiver’s role as a spiritual leader serves to be one of the largest driving factors in the story. Not only does he help to guide the rabbits throughout their journey, but the bond between him and his brother serves to envelop the reader within the emotions of the characters. The arc in which we see Fiver grow from a measly outcast to a respected leader is outstanding, and to say the writing of Adams’s story is brilliant does not do the arc justice. In this sense, I felt insulted watching the show and seeing Fiver’s role diminished to that of a sidekick, who’s only real purpose was to further Hazel’s arc rather than to have one of his own. The show furthered this insult by replacing some of Fiver’s most powerful moments with that of Hazel’s love interest, a hutch rabbit named Clover whom they meet during the raid of Nuthanger farm. In the story, the raid is to free a few does from the farm to join their warren, and Hazel is shot and wounded by the farmer during their escape. Through a vision, Fiver is shown where Hazel is hiding, still alive, and takes Blackberry to find and rescue him furthering their powerful bond and securing him a place of trust among the others, but in the show, the lovestruck Clover finds and rescues Hazel. The miniseries tries to make up for this by giving Fiver the role of freeing the dog that saves them from their enemies, but even this does little to emulate the wonderful arc that Adams had wrote for the character, and in turn, diminishes Hazel’s arc as he was the one in the story to free the dog. Overall, I found the series did more in the way of furthering romance then showing us the deep bonds between the rabbits, and the wonderfully written arc of the characters like Fiver.
Brave, confident, and kind are how I would describe Hazel, the leader of the band of runaways. His arc, being very similar to that of Fiver’s, is the story of an outcast growing to be the respected leader of his own warren. His growth as a confident and wise leader was emulated well within the written story, however in the miniseries that growth was replaced by the romance he had with Clover, the hutch rabbit. In the series, he is shown to be an insecure, doubtful, impulsive rabbit who only becomes a leader thanks to the luck he has of having an insightful brother. The Hazel of the book would never risk the lives of his warrens rabbits for a doe, and yet you see him do this multiple times throughout the miniseries whenever Clover is in danger. Clover only serves to make Hazel out to be a lover-struck rabbit who plays favorites among his people, and these changes work against the arc of his character. Even the deep bond between him and Fiver is overlooked in the series, either replaced with Clover or left out altogether. It was nearly impossible for me to enjoy the good things about the miniseries after watching how blatantly they ruined a character I had grown so fond of. Although parts of his character are similar, his rise to leader was not due to brave feats or wise decisions, but instead thanks to good fortune and the support of a romantic partner.
At the center of all the rabbit’s schemes, tricks, and ploys is Bigwig, the protector of the warren. Bigwig’s arc throughout the story is quite different from the rest. At the beginning of their journey Bigwig is already held in high regard by those in his old warren, as he had been a member of the Owsla, an authoritative group that keeps order among the tunnels, and thus had a place of respect among the group when they first set out. His growth instead focuses on his inward nature rather than social standing. We see him soften from an unyielding rabbit, who would be happiest never calling anyone else chief, to an incredibly supportive and motivated character who respects Hazel and Fiver as leaders. Anyone that has read the story knows Bigwig to be a loudmouthed and head-strong rabbit who will always speak his mind to a fault, and in the miniseries, this is the only trait of Bigwigs that is shown. His portrayal is that of a rude rabbit who cares little for Hazel or any other rabbit. Almost every instance in the miniseries where Bigwig puts his life on the line for others, his actions are motivated by a selfish desire to appear strong and capable, rather than selfless care for his companions. Yet in the book, his unwavering loyalty is shown best while he protects his warren from Woundwort, a powerful enemy, and as he struggles to keep his breath, he still finds the strength to say;
“My Chief Rabbit has told me to defend this run and until he says otherwise I shall stay here.” Richard Adams, pg.451
The power of this line is lost in the miniseries, as it is something Bigwig is told to say by Hazel, solidifying the destruction of his arc by demonstrating again how he would have had no regard for such things on his own. Although his position as a protector is kept in both book and series, his role as a supportive second-hand was undermined by self-centered narcissism, a last-minute unnecessary romance, and a close-minded ego.
When looking at the antagonist of any story, it is fascinating to really wonder if a villain had any redeeming qualities. And if they did, why were they added? Woundwort and his tyrannical rule over Efrafa are no doubt daunting threats to Hazel and his free-thinking warren, but Adams created such a unique character in Woundwort that I somewhat loved him. In the book, both his parents died while he was young, his father by a farmer who shot him for stealing lettuce, and his mother by a weasel after she had been wounded. He had even spent a brief time of his life being a pet for a man but eventually escaped. His madness over the control for his warren was in part due to a lust for power, but mainly because of the fear he had for men. He felt that by reducing the evidence that rabbits were there at all, no man would come to disturb them. In the show, these aspects of his character seem to have been replaced by the cliche of a “tragic backstory” in which his happy warren is brutally killed by a fox. This is the only insight the show gives you into Woundwort’s past, and beyond it does little to give any reason besides power-lust for his greedy and monstrous nature. The show also drastically changed Efrafa itself. Where there was once a well-hidden warren in the hills, there was now a burrowless maze within the underground remains of a seemingly collapsed house. It completely destroys Woundwort’s notion of a low profile, sustainable way of life.
“All signs of rabbit life were concealed as closely as possible.” Richard Adams, pg309
Woundwort was not a character meant to be purely evil, but simply misguided and broken. In the book, his tireless watch over his warren was done to protect it, even if by doing so he slowly lost the rabbits under his suffocating reign. Woundwort's intentions were always to shield his people from harm, but because his actions were made from a place of fear, his definition of protection became something far darker than ever imagined.
The characters of any story, no matter how wonderfully the plot is written, make or break the enjoyment of that story. The ones that Adams wrote in his book were beautiful, full characters who had depth and purpose, and yet I found that the characters of the miniseries were shallow with little more to their character then romance and jealousy. It’s not abnormal for a character to be left out of their adaptations, but I felt the omission of Pipkin was lazy. Pipkin, like Fiver, served a role of importance, he was never shy to lend a hand where he could and as such helped on many occasions during the warren’s greatest tricks. To go even further, the changes to Strawberry and Bluebell were equally as unwise. Strawberry, a buck from a deceitful warren whose mate died shortly before he joined Hazel, became a strong and valued member of the Warren on the Down. The decision to make Strawberry a doe in the series seemed to only have two purposes, so that the other rabbits could fight over her, and eventually, for her to mate with Bigwig, and so she could dig out their new warren. And Bluebell, the rabbit who helped guide Holly after the destruction of the Sandleford Warren, was made a storyteller who joined Hazel at the very beginning of their journey and had no part in Holly’s finding of his friends. In the end, I believe the concept behind the miniseries was well-intended, but the execution fell far short of my expectations. By adding romance and defiance where there was not and should not have been any, they diminished the depth in which the characters had been developed.
The plot leaves me with a similar feeling of disappointment as the adapted characters do. It comes off stripped, shallow, and watered down. During the lengthy publication process, many publishers refused the book for one of two reasons; it was too gruesome to be a children’s story, or it was too childish to be an adult book. However, what makes Adams’ book so unique is its ability to reach both a young and mature audience. Within his story is a core message that he felt was important to be palpable by children, so when they read it all they see is a heroic tale of two rabbits. But when an adult reads it, the story unfolds into complex symbols and metaphors. Adams held the controversial opinion that you should not hide the violent nature of reality from children, thus creating a story that is thought-provoking and gripping to all ages. This fantastic ability to appeal to a broad audience was completely lost in the miniseries, which was tempered down so much it seemed to be solely marketed towards a young demographic. The two largest ways in which this is seen is the absence of brutality and the addition of romance. While the lack of viciousness goes against the original, unique design to allow children to experience certain dark elements from the safety of paper pages, the added love stories directly contradict statements made by Adams concerning the rabbits ability to feel such romantic bonds between males and females.
“The kind of ideas that have become natural to many male human beings in thinking of females - ideas of protection, fidelity, romantic love and so on - are, of course, unknown to rabbits, although rabbits certainly do form exclusive attachments much more frequently than most people realize.” Richard Adams, pg254
Moving deeper into the complexities, we can break down the metaphors and analogies even further. Lord Frith, El-ahrairah, The Black Rabbit of Inle; all symbols of power and hope for the rabbits of Watership Down. Their impact on the lives of the rabbits is somewhat different than our modern-day religions, as their existence is as true a fact as the ears on the rabbits themselves. Frith is their great creator, the one who made all the worlds, but their proud king is El-ahrairah, the trickster. His example of loyalty, bravery, and imagination help to guide all rabbits throughout their lives, and at their darkest times gives them hope. The Black Rabbit of Inle is to the rabbits what the Grim reaper is to us. He calls upon the rabbits when their time comes, and guards their souls in a great stone warren with his Owsla of Shadows. The relationship they have with these idols is a close one; they honor them with stories and speak to them when scared or misguided. In stark contrast, the show presents these icons as simply religious lore, they are something to believe in or not. This is shown most prominently in one particular scene when Bigwig hears a mysterious voice calling his name in the night. The voice turns out to be captain Holly, wounded and weak searching for the rabbits. However, before they know it’s him, the rabbits that hear the deathly voice think it to be The Black Rabbit of Inle. In the show, Bigwig mocks a rabbit for “believing in such things,” but in the same scene in the book Bigwig himself says;
“You have to go,” he muttered, so thickly that Hazel could hardly catch the words. “You have to go when he calls you.” Richard Adams, pg144
These idols in the books care for the rabbits as much as the rabbits care for them. They respect and protect them like children. You see such care in one of the final scenes of the book, when Hazel is propositioned by El-ahrairah to join his endless Owsla, and help him oversee all the rabbits of the world. In the series, the scene is very similar, with the only difference being that it’s not El-ahrairah who comes to take his spirit away but the Black Rabbit of Inle. It is a curious change, one that seems to imply Hazel was dying and learning his new role in the afterlife, rather than almost transcending life itself to stand beside El-ahrairah without ever having to face death. These characters, whether they are gods or not, hold an important and deep connection with the rabbits that the series appeared to make a deliberate effort to exclude.
Across all the different versions of the story, the inciting incident stays the same; Fiver has a vision that the Sandleford Warren will be destroyed. The next steps of the story also stay somewhat the same, Hazel and Fiver attempt to persuade the Chief Rabbit to abandon the warren, and when that doesn’t work they leave themselves. The destruction of the Sandleford Warren comes about due to the development of the land the warren resided on but happens somewhat differently between the two versions. Anyone that has read the books can recount the pages of the detailed description on the gassing of the warren, where rabbits screamed out and tore each other apart in panic. It’s a vividly haunting chapter, and I find myself drawn to it every time I pick the book up to read again. You can imagine my disappointment when I watched the scene in the miniseries, a poorly animated scene of a group of rabbits being buried in dirt as the tractors come to prep the land for building. No gas, no attack, just tractors coming in out of nowhere. It was also quite different how the survivors, being Holly and Bluebell in the book but only Holly in the series got away from the terrible attack. Holly had been outside during the initial gassing in the book, but in the miniseries, he was in the warren and had been wounded by the other rabbits as it was filled with dirt. The miniseries did not specify how he got out and seemed to downplay the entire event itself. The story of Sandleford’s destruction solidified the respect the rabbits had for Fiver, after hearing from a survivor the horrors of the death that would’ve awaited them had they not listened. These changes in the miniseries seem to undermine and belittle the horrifying experience that sets the tone for the entire story to follow.
After the rabbits have successfully escaped Sandleford, they begin their journey to find a new home, where they are met with many challenges along the way. The first of several dangerous encounters is their brief stay at Cowslip’s Warren. Cowslip himself is an odd rabbit, with tendencies and habits that confuse Hazel’s group and somewhat bewitch them. They stay several days within the walls of the dark warren, getting to know the rabbits that live there and their odd ways. The show felt that the mystery of Cowslip’s Warren was not enough to keep the viewer engaged, so they made the rabbits of the warren worship a glowing stone that was located within a deep burrow. And although the rabbits ask the same questions, which are avoided and deflected in both book and miniseries, it is so much more obvious in the latter that you would wonder why any smart rabbit would not have immediately seen through it. In the book, the more they find out about the rabbit’s strange ways, the more questions they have. It becomes increasingly apparent that Cowslip goes through great lengths to hide things from Hazel. This deceit in the miniseries is dulled down to minor issues that are greatly outweighed by the good they see in the warren, mainly shelter, food, and security. From the very beginning, the insightful Fiver is distressed by the place and refuses to go down into the warren at all unless Hazel or Bigwig forces him down, which is also greatly downplayed in the series. In both instances, the fateful events all come to a head when Bigwig finds himself snared in a wire. However, only in the book does Fiver finally reveal the true meaning behind the dangerous warren. How the rabbits of the warren had become sickly and died. How the farmer decided to start feeding the rabbits to make them healthy again. And then how the farmer began to lay traps so that he could catch, kill, and sell the rabbits as part of his farm. Their brief stay at the warren comes to an end then, and Fiver and Hazel lead their rabbits, with the addition of Strawberry, to the Hills on the Down. Here again, the changes made to the plot and characters seemed unnecessary and disadvantageous. The differences had such a large impact on the scene as a whole, that I was left with the same feeling of disappointment in the new adaptation.
After the escaping of Sandleford, and the dangers of Cowslip and his lies, the rabbits finally find peace on the quiet Hills of the Down. Atop a large hill, where nothing but a lone tree stands, the rabbits begin to carve out their own warren to call home. In the book, it takes the bucks some time to dig out the warren, as burrows are not typically done by bucks, so they don’t possess the instincts. In the series, however, the warren takes a ridiculously short amount of time thanks to Strawberry, who if you will remember was turned into a doe in the adaptation. With the help of Hawkbit and Dandelion, the three alone make the entire warren within a day or two. It was in those burrows that they defended against the Efrafans. This hostile warren was led by the brutish and strong rabbit, Woundwort. Despite the security Efrafa provides, the overpopulation of the warren made many of the does that live within rebel against Woundwort’s command. So, when Bigwig shows up and asks them to leave with him, they happily venture into the unknown for the promise of a free life. In the show, the warren focuses more on the tyrannical ruler and his horrific ways of control rather than the broken and overcrowded system that the warren had become. Besides the lack of freedom, the only real problem with Efrafa was the overcrowding, which is all but gotten rid of in the show as the Warren is made to have plenty of space and very little rabbits. It seemed to me that the only rabbits in Efrafa that were not part of Woundwort’s Owsla were the six or seven does they had, all of which eventually followed Hyzenthlay out of the warren. In the book, Hyzenthlay was a defiant rabbit that inspired hope among the other does, but in the show, she was rude and stubborn, openly speaking against Woundwort no matter the consequences, even if the safety of her companions was on the line. However, what really seemed to be the main focus of Efrafa in the miniseries was a subplot where Clover was abducted by Efrafans and Woundwort hoped she would become his mate. In the end, if they had focused more on the realistic challenge of the bucks digging the entire new warren and on the mental intricacy of Woundwort and his reasons for Efrafa, they would have recreated the same enjoyable plot that did not rely on the sole concept of romance, lust, and convenience.
“When he had explored the limits of his own strength, he set to work to satisfy his longing for still more power in the only possible way - by increasing the power of the rabbits around him. He needed a bigger kingdom. Men were the great danger, but this could be circumvented by cunning and discipline.” Richard Adams, pg309
No matter how many times I pick up the book and re-read its pages, I have never found myself unimpressed by the depths of the characters and the world which Adams built for them. Each scene was described with meticulous detail so that you almost feel like you were actually there. But when sitting down to watch this animated feature based on one of my most treasured books, it was surely disheartening to see that what they had lacked in great storytelling, they had not made up for with beautiful animation. Overall, I felt there was no bigger change than that of the romance that had been added to the story. Adams had said himself that romance was a concept unknown to rabbits and that even beyond that, they had no need for it. When your instinct is to survive and your purpose to protect, what need would you have for spending valuable time in courting, flirting, and the notion of “love.” Characters like Hazel were completely overturned for the addition of a grand romance that would become one of the largest subplots of the series. There is more to life than romance, but the concept is hugely popular with young audiences. So while the producers of the miniseries seemed to capitalize on the publicity romance would bring, even if unnatural and forced, Adams decisively chose to explore the bonds true rabbits could form with one another. Hazel’s only motivation to raid Nuthanger farm and Efrafa was to free Clover, his love interest, and characters like Fiver, who had been of great importance and respect in the book seemed to be overshadowed. For to a child, what is a timid prophet when compared to true love? All of that being said, I liked certain aspects of the miniseries, and I appreciated that they were retelling a deserving story to a new audience. But with the amount of difference between the show and the book they may as well have created their own story about rabbits and said it was “inspired” by Watership Down, rather than based on it. Adams’ story and this retelling is a perfect example of the failure in its adaptation. So while the show is easy to watch and fairly enjoyable as a stand-alone, I truly hope I have at least encouraged you to take the time to pick up Adams' book and dive into the original story, without the burdens of romantic troupes or the censorship of brutality. The amazing world Adams created is wholly unique and complex, it does not deserve to be watered down.
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