I don’t hate Game of Thrones. That may seem obvious from the fact that I’ve now spent (quick calculation) 10.8 days of my life writing Game of Thrones recaps. But it seems like I need to say this because every week there is almost sure to be one, if not more, comments saying … well, let’s look at last week’s comments:
It’s just a show — you don’t have to rag on it. Just take it in for what it is. If you don’t enjoy watching it anymore, then stop and do something else with your time.
And
This is what I dislike about much of literary and film criticism. It’s a perfect example of an old rule: Those that can’t, criticize.
And
F#%k you. I love GOT, with all its plot twists and inconsistencies and ill-conceived ideas.
Note that I changed a couple of letters in that last comment.
First… ouch. That hurt.
Second… yes, this is critical analysis. I do it not because I hate the show, but because I love the show. I do it because I’m a fiend for stories, and writing, and acting, and film making. I do it because I love both seeing the trick, and figuring out how the trick works.
Why did that scene of someone making an escape make you cheer, while the other one made you hiss? Why do you pull for Brienne, but not the High Sparrow? How is that you’ve come to feel sympathy for people fighting for their lives and the people fighting against them? What makes this scene work? What makes this one seem flat? How do stories flippin’ work anyway?
That’s what I’m here for. To take it apart, look at the pieces, and see how they work both in and out of context. I believe that critical analysis not only has real value, it brings real enjoyment. Because the more you understand what the artist was trying to give you, the more joy you can derive from the effort. I believe “just watching” or “just taking it for what it is” is an insult to the work the writers, actors, directors, and crew put into making this thing for you. It’s not wallpaper. You don’t just stare at it.
This is a love letter to the show. Dammit. Even the parts where I’m pointing out things that worked poorly, or points that seemed rushed, or scenes that were simply off. If you’re “just watching” the show, you’re missing most of the show.
Okay then. Come on. Let me tell you what they did wrong.
This is a bit of an unusual episode structurally. It begins with a lengthy cold open that seems so tonally off that it had me wondering if I had turned to the right channel. Where are we? Who are these cheerful people? What is this spirit of communal living that compels them to work nicely together and cook meals to share and build what appears to be the little brown church in the dell? What have you done with our angry, angry Westeros?
Oh, wait. There’s the Hound. Cue the music.
Somewhere in the Riverlands
This is becoming a season of resurrections. First the Lord of Light, with Melisandre’s help, stoked a bit of warmth in Jon Snow’s chill heart. Then Uncle Benjen reappeared after four+ seasons of being lost in the snow. This week it’s the Hound’s turn to return after being left with many, many extra openings courtesy of Brienne.
The Hound’s reintroduction comes with a fairly lengthy bit of exposition along the “boy you were so wounded, and everyone sure thought you were dead, but miracle of miracles” and so on. The lengthiness of this recitation, and the creakiness of repeating it to a character who is surely healed enough to have heard this by now, is pretty much offset by hearing it from Ian McShane. McShane would not only make reciting the phone book sound interesting, but actually a little bawdy.
It turns out that McShane is a septon, the Earthy (big E for “Extra Earthy”) head of a little church-building commune where, if you listen closely, you can hear Blowin’ in the Wind blowing. In the wind. Rev. McShane sermonizes by telling everyone all about his child-killing days, which is taken remarkably well. But again, it’s Ian McShane.
The Hound has just enough time to settle into this community of gently smiling ur-hippies who are building a completely defenseless structure in the middle of a war zone and waving around lots of food in a place where most folks are skating the edge of starvation, before along comes a trio from the Brotherhood without Banners.
Maybe it was just me, but I didn’t take the Brotherhood for bad guys. Beric Dondarrion seemed honorable enough—or at least he was a dozen or so resurrections back—and Thoros seemed more interested in drinking than fighting. But these bannerless men seem to be there just to cast menacing glares of menace.
Sure enough, once the Hound lets the hapless love crew out of his sight for a moment, they all end up dead. Though all of them were apparently killed in very short order by people who were not interested in either taking the food or taking anyone as a slave. Which… again doesn’t seem like the Brotherhood, or even the bad, bad, and ugly trio we saw earlier.
Whoever is behind it, it’s enough to get Sandor Clegane to declare his vacation over. He heads off with ax in hand and murder in mind.
Final note: Why does the Hound look so much bigger without the armor? That is one big guy.
Somewhere in the North
The Wildlings are in a near-rumpus, but Jon gives them a decent rah-rah speech to rally the troops. Troop-rallying is effectively assisted when Wun Wun picks a side. You want to be on the same side as Wun-Wun.
With the Wildlings committed, Sansa and John make their way to Bear Island, where they meet the formidable head of House Mormont. The fact that the head of house Mormont is a 10-year old girl named after their dead aunt Lyanna, does not make her the least bit lest formidable. In fact, she’s so sharp and so on-point that you wonder that Sansa and Jon don’t just kneel to her and start shouting The Queen in the North! Both of the oldest surviving Stark children come off as tongue-tied and out of their depth. They clearly devoted all their thought to getting there and zero to what they would say when they arrived.
Finally, Davos has to step in to save the pair from Lady Lyanna’s all-too-accurate tongue lashing. He convinces the young Lady that the army of wights is on its way and that the North needs to get united. It’s a winning argument, but it only nets an additional 62 fighters for Jon and Sansa’s army.
Next up on the begging tour: Deepwood Motte, home to House Glover. Like every other Northern house, Glover has lost everyone who ever remotely thought about carrying a sword. The new Lord of the house is much less cute than the head of Bear Island, and even less welcoming. He not only sends them packing without a fighter to show for their visit, but when Sansa upbraids him for not fulfilling his oath, Lord Glover breaks the bonds to House Stark in a way that sounds a lot like the North crumbling. If it was me, I’d have brought Wun Wun into these negotiations. He can be very persuasive.
Back out in the snow, Jon is convinced that there is no more time and no where else to go. They must march on Winterfell with the army they have—though that army is at best two-fifths the size of the Bolton force.
Sansa frets a bit and grabs both a raven and a writing desk (because Poe… never mind). She dashes off a note we can’t see, but is surely something along the lines of “Okay, Littlefinger, get up here quick.”
She’s violated the “inviting the devil into your home” rule, as well as the “keeping a secret from your brother that will probably get you all killed” rule. But expect Littlefinger’s army to teleport from Moat Calin in time to be in on the fight.
Exactly at Riverrun
Jaime arrives at Riverrun with the 8,000-man Lannister / Sparrow force to find that the Frey encampment is run by extras from Monty Python. Between inadequate security and ineffective threats, it’s a wonder the Blackfish hasn’t swum out from the castle to kill them all. Jaime begins putting the camp in order and asks for a parley with the Blackfish.
By the way, this is the first time we’ve seen Brynden “Blackfish” Tully, uncle of Catelyn Stark, since he was one of the few to escape the Red Wedding. That may not count as an actual resurrection, but it’s certainly a long time between scenes. Once again, the story seems to be developing an inward-rushing momentum, with all the pieces that had scattered in previous seasons coming back together as we move toward a climax.
Jaime gets to look like a big man again as long as he’s facing the Freys. From the lack of skill shown here, you can only assume the Freys have become important simply by out-breeding everyone, because they don’t seem to be good at anything else.
The Blackfish wins the episode (well, the Blackfish and Lady Lyanna). Not only is his snorting disgust at the Frey’s magnificent, and his disdain for their threats towering, he jumps right to the front of the People Who Give Jaime No Respect queue. And that’s a long queue.
It’s an epic smackdown.
At scene’s end, the Tully forces still have the castle and claim to have supplies to hold it more or less till Doomsday. Jaime has the Freys cowed and his forces on hand, but no clear option to move forward.
It’s a scene that mostly makes me think: Did we need Dorne? Dorne didn’t really go anywhere. Couldn’t we have just marched out here last season and camped if we needed Jaime to be delayed somewhere? Anyway, we’re there now. Stuck in the mud. Waiting for something to happen.
Everywhere in King’s Landing
First, let me say that Margaery Tyrell absolutely rocks the penitent look. It really works for her. The High Sparrow seems to think so, too, though he’s clearly a little concerned that the Queen might have something up her flowing sleeves. Because … come on. Of course she does. And she should, because in the first scene the High Sparrow delivers a casual backhanded threat to her grandmother and complains that Margaery needs to spend more time in bed making the boy king happy (and pliable. In a political sense.).
But you have to give it to Margaery. She lets not a single word slip from her serene lips without a Mother load of unctuous sancitity. She’s either a true convert, or going into deep, deep cover.
Meanwhile her grandmother, Lady Olenna, clearly relishes the opportunity to tell Cersei (again) just how completely worthless she is, and how much harm she’s done, and to ponder if Cersei is “the worst person she ever met.” Oh, come on. You know the answer to that is yes.
Cersei and Jaime, drinking big twin glasses of diss.
Finally, Margaery gets a chance to meet with the Queen of Thornes, and it appears the worst may be true. Margaery may be a true convert. Except that at the last possible moment she slips a small scrap of paper to Olenna. On it, Margaery has drawn the image of a rose–the symbol of House Tyrell.
Margaery is obviously in mid-plot, with some long and complex scheme to bring down the Sparrow, and probably Cersei, and possibly Tommen.
Is Margaery failing to warm the king’s sheets because she’s too busy plotting, fully aware that manipulating Tommen is no longer a high value target … or is she doing it purposely to bring on a confrontation?
Maybe in Volantis
Yara and Theon stop for a prostitution break and to collect the weekly bare-breast quota. Not much happens but we get to watch Yara play slap ass, quaff a drink trying to buck-up Theon, and get a clear signal that they’re going straight for Dany.
Next.
Definitely in Braavos
When last we saw Arya, she was hiding in a dark alley with a sword in hand waiting for the Faceless men, in the form of Shona, to come for her after Arya purposely botched her last murder-death-kill. But now we find the Stark with the acting eyebrows strolling along in broad daylight, tossing around cash, conspicuously swordless.
Not only is she hanging out along the same waterfront she’s been frequenting since coming to Braavos, she makes the totally obvious move of trying to buy her way back to Westeros, and then the double-down foolish move of saying “first thing in the morning.”
Ten minutes later, Arya is lolling in the sunshine, leaning on the edge of a bridge, when she lets Shona stroll right up to her wearing an old-lady face. Shona gets off at least three sharp stabs to the guts before Arya does a backwards full-gainer and vaults over the side of the bridge. She exits marketplace left, after swimming through the canal and leaving a proper trail of blood.
So… WTF?
Where is Needle? Why isn’t Arya hiding? Why is she being so foolish? Three stabs to the guts is more than enough to do in anyone in a pre-antibiotic society, along with a good number of those hanging around on the doorstep of Johns Hopkins.
But then, the real theme of this episode is: women with secret schemes.
Sansa has one. Margaery has one. I’m guessing Arya has one, too. But it better be a good one. If it’s sneaky enough to get her out of this, then maybe Arya’s turning her back on the Faceless Men wasn’t such a stupid move after all. Possibly she’s smarter than all of them. After all, Arya let Jaqen H'ghar out, but H'ghar got into that cage all on his own.