And now, something not completely different.
In the spirit of not putting spoilers above the line, let me start by recommending something else for you to watch: Dragonslayer. The movie came out in 1981, which happens to be the same year as Raiders of the Lost Ark, The Road Warrior, Escape from New York, An American Werewolf in London, Stripes, Clash of the Titans, Scanners, Porky’s, Cannonball Run, The Howling, Time Bandits, and a Bond film. Let’s just say, if you were an American teenager in 1981, you didn’t have trouble finding a reason to get out of the arcade for a minute to catch a flick. So, Dragonslayer may not have survived the last 35 years with quite the fan following it would have received if released in a less crowded year. But there’s two reasons why you should go search out this oldie.
First, this is quite possibly the most subversive fantasy film ever made. Seriously. Every convention of both traditional fantasy and historical romanticism comes in for a solid, intelligent whacking. There’s the hapless hero who fumbles his “magic words,” only to be corrected by a princess who recognizes his phrases as mangled Latin. There’s the kingdom’s ongoing conversion to Christianity founded on a complete misunderstanding of what’s going on. There’s the toughest guy in the kingdom, who is actually a girl. There’s the dreadful “lottery.” The multiple role-reversals. It’s all in-your-face-history right down to the final moment providing a big “written by the winners” footnote.
The other reason you should watch? For the dragon. Vermithrax Pejorative (the ruining wyrm of Thrace) is the definitive evil dragon. Designed by graphic artist David Bunnet and animated by ILM’s Phil Tippett using “Go Motion” animation, creating and filming Vermithrax cost a quarter of the film’s entire budget. Completely. Worth. It. Just watch the scene where the dragon chases the characters through a cave, dragging itself forward on the folded points of its wing like an enormous bat while the great rattlesnake jaws stretch forward. It’s a beast as frightening as it is magnificent. Tippet’s work on this film was so good, that twelve years later Spielberg originally tapped him to create the dinosaurs for Jurassic Park before turning to newfangled computer graphics.
Oh, and call me a heretic, but I absolutely hate the musical score from the normally terrific Alex North. Yeah, it may have been nominated for an academy award, but the bouncy, overbearing music completely deflates numerous scenes and beats subtle moments to death. So there, stone me.
Okay, let’s go see that other dragon.
What put me in mind of Vermithrax was, of course, this weeks appearance by Drogon. Before I get to the scene by scene, let me give a hat tip to the Game of Thrones animators. While the dragons were cute little bundles of scales in their first two seasons, it has often seemed that they suffered from a bad case of glued-into-scene since they got past the shoulder-pet stage. This week redeemed the dragons. The whole trio, and especially Drogon, not only seem to have come into their own, but to be moving in a way that reflects both a feeling of weight and the rudiments of a personality. The scene where Drogon lands next to Daenerys and lowers his wing to ease her mounting … it’s really nice. Good dragon. Good dragon.
Meereen
The title of the episode implies that we’re going to spend all our time outside Winterfell, but this is actually the story of two battles. First we pop over to pyramid town where Dany has returned to Meereen just in time to see the end results of Tyrion’s management in her absence. Which means she comes in just in time to see the place being leveled by napalm-soak stones being launched by flotilla of catapult ships.
This seems like a problem that shouldn’t go on too long—seriously, how many fire rocks can you launch from a wooden ship before you either run out of rocks or set fire to the thing?—but in the meantime, the bombardment is doing a fair job of turning Meereen into mere rubble (sorry).
Tyrion, who was already at a loss for how to deal with the attack from the slave master fleet, ends up looking like Cameron Frye after he’s run his father’s vintage Ferrari off the cliff. He knows he’s failed, and he not only cringes, he twists a bit to the side, as if expecting to be slapped. For good reason. Despite how competent he was in handling both military affairs and the general populace during tough times back in King’s Landing, Tyrion has been singularly ineffective in Meereen. He’s dealt poorly with the masters, not brought in the Sons of the Harpy (who were on hand to participate in the killing once the masters showed up), and if his mission to bring in the red priestess gained him anything, it was hard to see how it helped when the bombs started to fall.
Why he’s been so ineffective is harder to say. Tyrion is clearly a smart guy, and he’s capable of learning. Yet he’s ignored every piece of advice offered him in favor of trying to get Grey Worm and Missandei to drink. Instead of paying attention, he’s been full of pithy sayings and demonstrated almost no ability whatsoever.
Frankly, Tyrion’s ineffectiveness reads more like the show being bored with his situation than it does Tyrion suddenly coming down with the dumbs. They didn’t know what to do with him, so he did nothing.
At least, now that Dany has returned, Tyrion is restored to having more than half a brain. Dany’s first response to how she will handle the situation is a pretty straightforward to-do list:
- Crucify the masters.
- Burn fleet.
- Kill every last soldier.
- Turn their cities to dust.
Tyrion is able to point out that while, yes, Dany and her own personal pack of super-weapons could reduce the opposition to their component atoms, doing so might not be in the same neighborhood as being less evil than the people they’re fighting. In particular, that “cities to dust” bit means killing quite a few people, not least of all the slaves Dany was supposed to be fighting to free.
Paired together, Dany seems wiser, Tyrion more decisive. And that’s cool. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe we’re supposed to see them as, oh, I don’t know, two heads of the dragon? Still, I’d like to see Tyrion showing a little more of his own competence when Daenerys isn’t in frame.
Annnnyyyway … masters disposed, and in the process we get to see the dragons being all dragony, plus Dothraki being head-choppy. In addition to the previously mentioned step-on-up-Dany scene, there’s plenty of good action showing the dragons reducing ships and crews to ash. It’s a reminder that the dragons are to everything else in Game of Thrones as a man in a suit of armor is to the poor folks not encased in steel: unstoppable. Daenerys has the only nukes in town, and she’s not afraid to use them.
The end result is that Dany’s battle ends quickly and cleanly with the masters mostly dead, their soldiers mostly not dead but on the run, and what portion of their fleet isn’t burned now in Dany’s hands.
Speaking of fleets, Yara and Theon make a timely appearance to offer up their ships to Dany. Tyrion gets a chance to poke the vastly less jackholish (but more confident than he’s been of late) Theon, while Dany and Yara bond over the whole women in charge issue. It’s a nice exchange, even if we do leave the ultimate status of the Iron Islands in Dany’s future super-state a little vague.
Winterfell
This is it, the only other setting this week. And for good reason. This is the action climax the whole season has been building towards, even if that has been in fits and starts.
We open on the verge of battle. The two thousand Wildlings, 62 Bear Island grizzlies, and one Wun Wun under the joint command of Jon Snow and sister Sansa are preparing to face off against the 6000-plus Bolton, Karstark, and Umber troops under the gore-stained boot of Ramsay Bolton.
Jon, Sansa and their small retinue ride out to meet Ramsay for some pre-fighting talk. Both of them try to goad the other into rashness, with Jon challenging Ramsay to go mano a mano mostly in an effort to embarrass him. Ramsay doesn’t do embarrassment. Mostly what this pre-game coin toss accomplishes is to remind us that Ramsay has the men, the castle at his back, and the only hostage that matters in the form of poor, pointless Rickon. Everyone parts with an agreement to fight come the morn.
In preparation, Jon holds a council of war. Which mostly confirms that yes, his 2,000 men is less than Ramsay’s 6,000. But it’s cold, there are no more significant Northern lords to visit, and apparently the raven from Riverrun has arrived to confirm that the Tullys are indeed nature’s biggest idiots (see last week), so no help is coming from that quarter. Jon and co. stare at their toy soldier table long enough to convince themselves that they might as well go out and get stabbed rather than freezing to death, then adjourn.
Notably absent from this war council are any female people. Depressed sorceress Melisandre doesn’t have much to offer, though she warns Jon that no matter how many times he dies, he feels under obligation to try and raise him up again. Westeros apparently lacks the concept of a DNR.
Sansa feels Pretty Damn Miffed at being overlooked, as well she should. She’s the one who got this thing rolling in the first place, and she’s extremely right about being the only one of the bunch who has a clue what Ramsay is about. Jon’s whole military expertise has been in fighting civilians and zombies, which isn’t exactly the best experience in going up against a #1 slime ball like Ramsay. Davos does have some experience, but mostly at losing. Jon doesn’t cotton to the thought that he might not be the best field commander ever. Though it’s clearly true, as his whole plan is stand there and wait.
There’s also the chance that, had Jon thought she was worth talking to, Sansa might have mentioned the fact that she’s dispatched a raven to the only force in the area that might be able to aid them, but he doesn’t and she doesn’t. The two half-siblings go off pre-battle with a decided lack of trust between them.
Oh, and forget Sansa. Why isn’t Lady Mormont here? She was at the meet-and-greet with Ramsay, so why is she shut out of planning? Bunch of misogynists. She’s the one I’d trust to run this show.
Meanwhile, restless Davos wanders around the campsite, which is very near the spot where Stannis was parked at the end of last season. Coming on a scorched platform, he discovers the little carved deer he had given to poor Princess Shireen. Davos may have erred in supporting Stannis, but he’s never lacked for brains otherwise, and it’s clear he understands what this means. This is not healthy for Melisandre in the long run.
Finally, it’s morning and both sides get lined up. Jon’s Wildling crew is mostly infantry, plus Wun Wun and Davos commanding a loose knot of archers. Ramsay has a mixed bag, with ranks of archers backed by some nicely turned out cavalry and infantry. Seriously. These guys look like they were supplied by Boeing and Lockheed considering the shiny uniformity of their gear.
Remember how Jon’s entire plan was dependent on holding his ground and making Ramsay come to him? Naturally, Ramsay defeats this plan in thirty seconds or less. He drags Rickon onto the field and sends him running toward Jon, which immediately starts Jon galloping toward Rickon. Serpentine! Rickon. Serpentine! Nope, not only has Rickon not managed to utter a word since his reappearance, he also doesn’t know how to either zig or zag. Crack-archer Ramsay skewers the littlest Stark just moments before he can be grabbed by Jon. It seems that Rickon’s dire wolf was named all too well. His really was a shaggydog story, going on too long while going nowhere.
Then Jon’s horse is shot, dropping him in mid-battlefield. Ramsay puts his cavalry in motion, and good depth of field gives us a terrifying image of Jon Snow, standing in the center of a plain facing the charge of a thousand armored knights on horseback. With timing that’s absolutely thrilling, Jon’s own mounted forces sweep past him mere seconds before the Bolton forces arrive.
The next fifteen minutes of Game of Thrones should win someone an award for cinematography. No television show or movie has ever done so well at conveying the utter chaos of a medieval battlefield. Men fall, blood flows, horses scream, headless bodies ride past still strapped in the saddle, men fall in such heaps that the flat ground becomes gradually transformed into a range of low hills. It’s a perfect hell.
Ramsay keeps his longbow men lobbing arrows throughout the fight in an equivalent of firing artillery into your own lines. He has more men. He’s willing to lose a few as long as some Stark forces fall with them. Davos, unwilling to do the same and frustrated at being left pointless on the sidelines, finally leads the Stark reserve up into the fray.
That’s when Ramsay pulls out his trick. Remember last week back when Arya was wondering about what was west of Westeros? Apparently it’s Rome. Ramsay’s forces rush into position with some spiffy legionnaire-style shields, then manage a shield wall that’s a little bit Battle of Stamford Bridge and a lotta bit Macedonian phalanx. Enveloping Jon’s army on three sides, with a heap of bodies forming the last side of the square, they press inward, constricting the Stark forces into a smaller and smaller space, driving their lengthy pikes into the can’t-miss mass of compressed people, and even holding the fearsome Wun Wun at bay. In the middle of this mass, Jon Snow, Davos, and Tormund are all wounded to one degree or another and as the press of bodies increases, the threat of simply being crushed seems very real.
Then there’s a horn in the distance. The Knights of the Vale have arrived! It may be predictable, but it’s also genuinely thrilling as the fresh set of armored knights smash the Bolton lines from behind and begin sweeping through their forces. A quick shot of Littlefinger sitting alongside Sansa suggests that Sister Stark, after being ignored at council, may have ridden down the King’s Road to meet the Vale forces and guide them quickly to the battlefield. If so, well done Sansa.
Ramsay continues to stare in disbelief as his forces are routed. Suddenly freed from the pressure, Jon Snow, Tormund and Wun Wun push their way free from the mound of bodies and the ongoing struggle and start up the hill toward Ramsay at a dead run. Lord Bolton decides this would be a really good time to head to the house.
Just as we saw last week that Riverrun wasn’t quite the sure thing the Blackfish expected, Winterfell turns out to fall very quickly when you’ve got a giant playing one-giant siege engine. Wun Wun leads the charge into the castle with Jon and Tormond right on his massive heels.
Poor Wun Wun. By this point the big guy has caught enough arrows and pikes that he looks like a giant hedgehog. As he falls to his knees, it’s clear that things are dicey for the last giant, though it still seems possible he might survive, right up until Ramsay puts an arrow through his eye. Ramsay: bastard to the very end.
Ramsay then announces, about 8,000 men too late, that he’d like to take Jon up on his one on one offer. Jon does so in a pretty damn wonderful way, picking up a shield and advancing on Ramsay until he can beat Lord Bolton half to death. Catching those arrows? Completely badass moment from Jon.
Then we get perhaps the best visual we’ve had in six seasons as the flayed-man banners come down and the Stark banners once against fly from Winterfell. It would be a moment for huge cheers, were not almost all of the Stark forces lying dead on the field.
Now they’ll have to figure what happens with traitorous House Bolton, House Karstark, and House Umber (who earns extra demerits for turning over Rickon). There’s also sit-it-out House Glover back at Deepwood Motte. I’m sure that among the Vale Knights there are several who are willing to tolerate a little cold in exchange for being lords of their own keeps. There are a lot of new House names on the way.
What did we learn this week, poppa? Well, dear, we learned that if you have dragons, you can sit back in your Jammies and watch your flaming murder lizards do all the messy work. Without dragons you're up to your neck in corpses. That's why you should never go anywhere without your dragon.
And next week we’ll learn the real tab for this victory: What does Littlefinger want? (Sansa, he wants Sansa. And everything else, of course.)
Oh, and Ramsay Bolton got eaten by his own dogs while Sansa watched. That shouldn’t make me happy. That shouldn’t make me happy. That shouldn’t ...