Game of Thrones Season 3, Episode 10: Mhysa

Family.  The greater good.  Self-interest.  Love.  Freedom.  Human life.  What value do each of these concepts have in governing Westeros?  How does one decide how to live one’s life when one’s life is that of a ruler?  Do you work to advance your own family’s standing?  Are individuals expendable in the name of the greatest outcome for the collective?  What if your personal interests are at odds with your societal goals?  In “Mhysa,” the third season finale of Game of Thrones, characters present twisted notions of duty and familial love.  People use lofty notions to justify terrible acts, and we are left to wonder how much longer Westeros can survive with such people in charge.

We have known since the beginning of the show that family lines are of great importance to those in Westeros, but “Mhysa” underscored just how great a motivation family can be.  Arya puts herself and Sandor in danger when she attacks a group of Frey men because they insulted the memories of her mother and brother.  Rather than ensure she will remain safe, she elects to attack a group of fully-grown men, knowing she is outnumbered.  In the name of her family’s honor, she puts herself in danger and takes a life for the first time.  The lowborn Davos Seaworth accepted knighthood and lordship from Stannis because he wanted his son to have a better life.

But to many, “family” does not mean the people you love or are bound to by blood.  “Family” is a concept beyond that, an institution that will carry on your name, providing immortality.  To Lord Tywin Lannister and King Balon Greyjoy, “family” is an organization, and one that must work in concert to accomplish goals for the family’s common good.  The desires, concerns, even lives of individual members are irrelevant.  All that matters is the family’s social status and power.  Balon already had a low opinion of Theon, and when his tormentor, the bastard son of Roose Bolton, sends Theon’s penis as incentive to withdraw the Ironborn from The North, Balon reasons that Theon’s inability to further the Greyjoy line has finally made him worthless.  That Theon is his son is meaningless; Theon may be related by blood, but being part of the family requires contribution.  If Theon cannot perform, he has no place in the family.  Tywin, on the other hand, puts some stock in the notion that blood makes you family, but not much.  He decided not to kill the infant Tyrion because Tyrion is a Lannister, and therefore part of the family.  But the fact that Tywin had to convince himself not to kill an innocent infant reinforces that Tywin expects those who share his name to do their part.  Like Davos, Tywin wants his children to have better lives.  Unlike Davos, Tywin does not desire this for the sake of his children, but for the sake of his name.  If the Lannisters have comfortable lives, it is proof that they are doing well for themselves, and that they retain their power.  Davos let his son choose his destiny, and his son died fighting for Stannis.  Tywin directs the course of his children’s lives, ensuring their desires and happiness don’t get in the way of the family’s prosperity.

The concept of family isn’t the only thing Tywin has twisted to suit his needs.  He says that rape, a crime for which perpetrators are sent to the Wall as punishment, is “the way of the world” if it suits him.  He and Tyrion both know that Sansa won’t willingly let Tyrion impregnate her, and he has no problem commanding Tyrion to do so forcibly.  And he justifies convincing Walder Frey to kill Robb, Catelyn, and the Stark bannermen by stating that it is better to end a war that is destroying a nation by killing a dozen men than by prolonging said war and being forced to kill thousands of men.  And yet this reasoning, as well as his scoff that a crown does not give you power, are completely at odds with “the way of the world.”  In asking Walder Frey to kill his guests, he ordered a lord to violate the sacred rite of hospitality, something taken so seriously in Westeros, a terrible fable was created to reinforce its meaning.  And when Tywin talks back to Joffrey and commanding him to leave the small council meeting, he upsets the social order by commanding a king.  Joffrey believes that the king should go unquestioned, but that isn’t quite right; the king has the Hand to serve as advisor, as well as the small council to discuss issues, and if the people become upset, they can revolt (something Joffrey proudly commends Robert Baratheon for doing).  But as with Walder Frey last week, the notion that a lord can command a king goes against the social order of Westeros.  Tywin is correct that the crown does not convey power, but he is quite selective about invoking the “this is how the world works” argument.

Tywin is also not alone in his view of what constitutes the greater good.  Many people in Westeros view the lives and happiness of individuals as unimportant next to the collective whole.  Varys would rather have Tyrion without the happiness that Shae brings him because it would allow Tyrion to work toward a better Westeros without her as a “distraction.”  Stannis and Melisandre are willing to sacrifice Gendry to ensure a quick end to the War of Five Kings, for what is one lowborn bastard against the lives of thousands?

So many in Westeros put a value on the greater good, but what they see as the greater good is sorely limited to the good for themselves and their families.  People like Tywin, Balon, and Walder are so concerned with the good for their own families, they don’t realize that every time they destroy one enemy, two more rise in their place.  Two kings referred to by the “War of Five Kings” are dead, but things in Westeros continue to get worse for all but the most powerful of families, and even they don’t have it that great.  The North will remember the betrayal by the Freys and the Boltons.  Lord Brynden Tully remains at large.  The people still despise the man who sits the Iron Throne.  Even if one family finally “wins” this war, that family will have to deal with a fractured nation, full of people who hate them.  And the greatest threat is one that is largely ignored.  The White Walkers are returning, and only Sam Tarly, Jojen Reed, and Davos Seaworth seem to understand the danger to the greater good posed by them.

In Westeros, the way that people have understood family to matter has put many in danger and blinded others to the nature of threats.  So it makes a kind of sense that across the Narrow Sea, in lands that are not Westeros, Danearys Targaryen has won the support of thousands not because of who her family is or because she is the “rightful” heir to the Iron Throne.  She has support because of her actions.  After freeing the slaves of Yunkai, they choose to make Dany their leader.  They choose to make her their “mother.”

Random Thoughts

·         I loved the rapport that was developing between Tyrion and Sansa.  They are both in a terrible situation (understatement), and it was nice to see them trying to find a way to make the best of it, in whatever way they could.  Of course, the death of Sansa’s mother and brother at the hands of Tyrion’s family put an end to it rather quickly.

·         Tyrion continues to threaten his psychotic king.  Probably not the best idea.

·         For all of Joffrey’s petulance and sadism, he’s not exactly wrong when he accuses Tywin of “hiding under Casterly Rock” while Robert Baratheon deposed Aerys Targaryen.

·         Tywin doesn’t like being questioned any more than Joffrey does.  Although Joffrey has none of Tywin’s pragmatism, they certainly share traits.

·         What meaning is a title and powerful family name to someone who has had his power stripped?

Game of Thrones Season 3, Episode 9: The Rains of Castamere

And who are you, the proud lord said,
that I must bow so low?
Only a cat of a different coat,
that’s all the truth I know.
In a coat of gold or a coat of red,
a lion still has claws,
And mine are long and sharp, my lord,
as long and sharp as yours.
And so he spoke, and so he spoke,
that lord of Castamere,
But now the rains weep o’er his hall,
with no one there to hear.
Yes now the rains weep o’er his hall,
and not a soul to hear.

The whole season has been building to this moment.  Orell the Wildling said that people are only loyal to you for as long as it suits them, and then they kill you.  Jaime Lannister and Roose Bolton postulated about the pragmatism of being on the side of Tywin Lannister, a ruthless man who can reward loyalty with riches, and who has been know to punish disloyalty harshly.  The song The Rains of Castamere is a testament to his brutality; when another noble house dared defy House Lannister, Tywin exterminated it.  We’ve been reminded numerous times that marriage is a key part of Westerosi politics, and that alliances are made and wars are won as the result of strategic marriages.  So now, we come to the wedding of Edmure Tully and Roslin Frey, a wedding that is supposed to be a defining moment for King Robb Stark’s campaign.  And it becomes so.  Just not in the way Robb intended.

Why does anyone in Westeros bother with kindness?  This episode, also titled “The Rains of Castamere,” went to great lengths to argue that kindness and honor are the marks of fools in Westeros, and that only those who act in their own self-interest, with maximum pragmatism, will survive.  Let’s start with Jon Snow and Arya, who are both presented with similar situations.  Each one must argue against the killing of an innocent at the hands of their traveling companions.  When Arya and Sandor Clegane come upon a pig farmer on the road, Sandor knocks the man out so they can steal his cart, pose as farmers, and get Arya to the wedding at the Twins.  When Sandor goes to kill the man, Arya protests, arguing that it isn’t necessary to kill him.  The two argue about the risk in leaving him alive, but the matter isn’t settled until Arya shows that she is aware that people will have to get hurt for their mission to succeed.  When the man starts to come to, she whacks him again.  Arya’s actions leave the man alive and are born out of a respect for innocent life, but they are tainted by her willingness to cause non-lethal harm for the purpose of furthering her own goals.  Jon, meanwhile, tries to convince the Wildlings that they should leave alive a horse breeder from whom they are planning to steal.  As with Arya, his kindness is born from his respect for the lives of innocents.  When questioned, he filters his concern through a lens of pragmatism, telling the Wildlings that the man is under the protection of the Night’s Watch.  If they rob him, the Watch will send men after them.  If they kill him, the Watch will send many men after them.  The prospect of killing many crows rather than some crows excites Tormund, and they decide to go through with killing him.  And to twist the knife even more, they demand that Jon do it, as a show of loyalty.  To the Wildlings, if Jon chooses not to take the life of an innocent, it means that he is still on the side of the Westerosi.  And it’s not a stretch to think that, if things were reversed and the Night’s Watch demanded that Jon take the life of a Wildling who had done them no harm, a refusal would call his loyalty into question.  No matter who’s side Jon fights for, there is no room for kindness or human decency.  Respect for the lives of innocents is seen as a weakness if those innocents happen to live in enemy territory.

And yet, things don’t seem all that bleak.  Sam continues to show kindness to Gilly.  True, he’s crushing on her, but Sam has always been a kind, gentle person, so his kindness toward her is genuine.  Osha, a Wildling who was introduced attacking Bran, has come to truly care for the young prince and his brother, and she has buried the hatchet with Meera Reed.  Danearys is an exceedingly interesting example, because although her scenes in this episode depict her sacking a city, we are reminded that she commands the loyalty of enough soldiers to sack a heavily fortified city because of her kindness.  Jorah, Barristan, and Grey Worm practically fall over themselves to serve her.  She is a leader they follow willingly because they believe in her leadership style, not just her birthright to the throne.

But this is Westeros.  Kindness will only get you so far, and at the end of the day, those who make kindness and honor their guiding stars are doomed.  You would think that Robb and Catelyn Stark would know this better than anybody.  Robb declared himself King in the North after the death of his father, a man who was honorable to such a fault, it was what got him killed.  When Ned had information that would destroy his enemies, he told them about it, so that they would have a chance to confess their crimes or leave King’s Landing.  They chose to strike back and smear Ned as a traitor, then offer him up to a psychotic king for judgment.  Ned’s death remains a sore spot for the Starks.  But Robb is his father’s son, and he remains a kind and honorable guest in the presence of Lord Walder Frey.  Robb cannot succeed in his war without Frey’s assistance.  In a strange inversion of the power dynamics of Westeros, a king and a liege lord must grovel before a lessor lord to get his help.  Frey has pledged fealty to House Tully, and it is his duty to do as House Tully commands.  Seeing as how House Tully pledged fealty to the free North, Robb is Frey’s king, and Frey should do as he says.  The first time Robb visited the Twins, he could have pointed out that Frey was bound to follow him.  Instead, he pledged an oath.  Then he broke it.  Now, Robb returns, and finds that he must smile and be polite to Lord Walder Frey as the man wastes Robb’s time, insults his wife, and demeans Robb’s reasons for marrying Talisa.  Robb puts up with it, first because it is honorable, and then, when his patience is nearly gone, because he feels he must.  And then Robb and Cat meet the same fate as Ned; Walder Frey and Roose Bolton betray their king to the Lannisters.  Frey has a personal stake in betraying Robb, while Bolton learned weeks ago that it pays to be on Tywin Lannister’s side.  As the wedding band plays The Rains of Castamere, the Starks and Tullys are slaughtered, save for Edmure and Brynden, who left to use the bathroom before the killing started.  And so ends the reign of King Robb and the independence of the North.  He was killed by kindness.  His own.

Random Thoughts

·         As a reader of the books, I knew this was coming and have been looking forward to it since I read A Storm of Swords.  But the producers still found a way to surprise me.  In the books, Robb’s wife, Jeyne Westerling, survives.  In the show, his wife, Talisa, does not.  I was not expecting that.

·         Unless it turns out that the Freys did not know about Talisa’s true nature, it looks like this theory, which I bought into, isn’t true.  *Swish*

·         This might have been my favorite performance yet by Maisie Williams as Arya.  Girl is such a little badass, standing up to Sandor Clegane, seriously threatening him, and playing on his fears.  Sandor and Arya telling each other that they understand the other’s fears was absolutely wonderful.

Of Profits and Prophets: A Review of Odds Against Tomorrow, by Nathaniel Rich

What will the future cost you? That is the question at the center of Odds Against Tomorrow, Nathaniel Rich’s brilliant satire of corporate greed and our culture of fear. Taking place a few years in the future (i.e. everything’s the same as now, only certain real life events are more distant memories than they are to us), the narrative follows a man whose obsession with disaster and fear helps develop a new industry meant to scare corporations into paying millions of dollars… for the sole purpose of avoiding paying millions of dollars to injured workers when disaster strikes.

Mitchell Zukor has spent his entire life being afraid of everything. He obsesses over the “worst case scenario,” endlessly trying to figure out what disasters await him. As a result of constant research and statistical analysis, he has become a mathematical genius, and after graduating from the University of Chicago, he moves to New York City to become a financial consultant. It’s not long before he’s contacted by the founder of FutureWorld, a consultation company that exists to insure that businesses will be insulated from paying out insurance premiums. FutureWorld doesn’t sell insurance, it sells disaster scenarios. Mitchell is paid to come up with every manner of disaster imaginable and warn clients of their likelihood. Taking advantage of new corporate liability laws, so long as clients pay exorbitant sums of money to FutureWorld, they can say that they took good faith measures to protect against acts of God, and will thus be immune to liability when disaster strikes.

At its heart, Rich’s story is an extreme tale of people who put their own financial interests ahead of the lives and limbs of their employees (the book begins with the destruction of Seattle, and the narrator points out that while the loss of life was inconvenient, it was the loss of capital that “brought the chief executives to their knees”). But he also addresses the short-sightedness of most humans - when New York finally receives rain after a drought, the citizens celebrate, not realizing how dangerous post-drought rains can be (and, in a wonderful statement about ignorance, a news anchor gleefully states that “there have come soft rains”) - as well as how so many of us let ourselves be ruled by fear. FutureWorld’s business model runs on fear, while Mitchell’s unlived life results from his constant fear of anything and everything. Meanwhile, throughout the story, Mitchell constantly recalls a college classmate, who had every reason to constantly fear for her life and chose to defy the odds and live the life she wanted.

Odds Against Tomorrow takes a bit of a left turn at the end, but the final direction ultimately reinforces Rich’s analysis of living in fear and exploiting fear for profit. Alternatively terrifying and humorous, this is certainly a satire of its age and will hopefully be seen as a warning rather than prophetic.

Game of Thrones Season 3, Episode 8: Second Sons

In a society that adheres to strict succession of property and titles through the male line, being a lord’s second son is not a good position to be in.  Your older brother will inherit your family lands and titles and will receive more appealing betrothal offers simply because he had the good fortune of being born first.  Fate gives second sons a bum hand, so men in that position must shape their own destinies.

And yet, of the many second sons we see in this episode, only two are actively shaping their own destiny, and of those two, one has only started doing so recently.  That one is Sandor Clegane, who used to act as Joffrey’s guard dog.  Until the Battle of the Blackwater, he did what he was told, killing whomever the crown told him to kill without question.  He never made his own choices, never had his own ambitions.  But now he is free to do what he wants and be the man he wants to be.  He is still not a good man, openly stating that he will do the right thing for the wrong reasons.  But he is a better man than many in Westeros (which is a sad fact indeed).

The other second son who forges his own path is Daario Naharis, a captain (or possibly just a leftenant) in the sellsword army known as the Second Sons.  As explained in the books, the Second Sons were started by a group of second sons hoping to make their fortune.  Knowing that they would never inherit the family fortune, they set out to earn what fate had denied them, and built a reputable company of warriors (or as reputable as a group of mercenaries can be).  Daario is a particularly interesting case; whereas most people on this show feel bound by duty, even people who are second sons, Daario does what he wants when he wants to.  Tyrion is going through with a marriage he has no interest in and Stannis is fighting for a throne he doesn’t want because “they have no choice.”  But Daario is never without a choice.  When told that he must kill Dany or die, he takes a third option, killing his comrades.  Duty, honor, and loyalty mean nothing to Daario.  All that matters is what he wants.

Let’s look at the other two second sons this episode focused on: Tyrion Lannister and Stannis Baratheon.  First up, how great was Peter Dinklage tonight?  From his tongue-tied attempt to put Sansa at ease to his drunken barbs to his father, to his threat to the psychopathic king, every minute of Dinklage’s performance was stunning.  Unfortunately, I can’t say the same of Stephen Dillane.  Stannis Baratheon in the books starts out as an unlikeable character who thinks things should go his way because he believes that they should.  This viewpoint doesn’t change, but Martin slowly alters our perspective of him by revealing that although Stannis is a slave to duty, that doesn’t mean he likesit.  Stannis believes in the rule of law to a fault, and if the law says something is so, then it is so, whether he likes it or not.  Stannis in the book does not want to be king, but he knows that the laws of Westeros, as well as destiny, have made it so.  With Robert leaving no issue, he is next in line, and although he does not want to be king, he has no choice.  Dillane says as much, and Davos tells him (for the purpose of telling the audience) about these qualities, but Dillane does not play Stannis as a man burdened by destiny and duty.  He plays Stannis with a smirk that suggests that he is pleased by the turn of events that made him next in line for the Iron Throne.  Either way, Stannis is a second son who is content to let destiny dictate his life, something he admits to this episode (basically stating that it is not our place to question destiny).  But the book portrayal makes him much more sympathetic.

Tyrion, meanwhile, tries to rebel against destiny, tries to avoid his duty.  Or at least he says he does.  As I pointed out in a previous review, Tyrion does have a choice.  He and Shae could run away to Essos and live the lives they want to.  But Tyrion chooses to stay, citing the fact that his place is in Westeros.  So he does everything he can to mitigate the awful fate that is given to him; he tries to put Sansa at ease about the marriage that neither of them wants, he (drunkenly) reminds Tywin that he is not so easily manipulated, and he stands up to Joffrey.  But at the end of the day, he still allows others to dictate the course of his life.  His intelligence could earn him a great life in Essos, but instead, he chooses not to forge his own path, but to remain bound by a duty to a family he despises.  Daario’s devotion to only himself makes him dangerous and unpredictable, but when compared to how Stannis and Tyrion live their lives, it does not look like the wrong choice.

Random Thoughts

·         Thank you, Cersei, for obviating the need for me to explain the song “The Rains of Castamere” to non-readers.  I was all set to open the next review (episode title: “The Rains of Castamere”) with the story of House Reyne’s demise.

·         Braavos is once again tied to death.  When Daario and the other Second Sons captains try to decide who should assassinate Daenerys, they draw coins, each one from a different city.  Whoever draws the Braavosi coin will kill Dany.  When Daario draws it, he says “valar morghulis,” all men must die.  Unfortunately for the other two captains, Dany is not a man.

·         Is it just me, or are the sex scenes getting more intense?  This week’s Melisandre/Gendry scene and last week’s Theon three-way would not have looked out of place in a porn film, but  for the lack of on-screen penis.

·         I also have to give props to Sophie Turner, who does so much to make Sansa into a great character.  Unlike many, I like Sansa in the books (starting in book 2; she was a bit grating on my first read of book 1 before I realized what Martin was really going for), but Turner adds a level of pathos not present on the page.

·         Olenna Tyrell points out how incestuous the powerful families of Westeros become due to limited marriage pools.  Siblings Loras and Margeary Tyrell are planning on marrying an mother and son, respectively, turning Loras into Margeary’s stepfather.

Game of Thrones Season 3, Episode 7: The Bear and the Maiden Fair

“The Bear and the Maiden Fair” is a bawdy song in Westeros that tells the story of a bear saving a young woman who was awaiting her knight:

The song is used as a “beauty and the beast” metaphor, and is often applied to pairs in-universe, such as Jorah Mormont (the bear) and Danearys (the maiden fair), Tyrion Lannister (the bear) and Sansa Stark (the maiden fair), and Brienne of Tarth (the bear) and Jaime Lannister (the maiden fair).  Like in our world, tales like this inform the cultural perception of love.  Sansa especially is taken in by stories; she thought that she needed only to wait for her knight to come and rescue her, but now, she fears that she has met a bear instead.  Of course, things are much more complicated than they are in the stories.

Remember back in the pilot when Jaime said “the things I do for love” right before throwing Bran out the window?  Although stories tend to portray love as a pure force that inspires only good, people often do terrible and stupid things in its name.  And sadly, because they see themselves doing them for love, they are blinded to the nature of their actions.  There is no better example right now than Robb Stark.  Here is a man who is fighting a war against a violent and illegitimate king.  He had the support of the masses and righteousness on his side.  He believes in justice and honor.  But he violated his honor by marrying a woman he fell in love with, and as a result, he has all but thrown away his war.  He is now forcing his uncle to marry someone against his will so that he can get back in the good graces of a vile old man who can provide him with enough men to keep fighting.  Robb asks his uncle to do his “duty” and marry someone for strategic reasons after he married a woman because he loved her.  Later, after some intense sex, Robb gets out of bed to make battle plans while Talisa remains in bed, naked, writing letters.  In one line of dialogue, Robb sums up his story: he asks her how he’s supposed to plan to win the war with her sitting on the bed looking the way she does.  Robb saw himself as the brave hero of fairy tales, and Talisa as the beautiful woman those characters fall in love with.  In doing so, he doomed his campaign.

And yet, the opposite view isn’t exactly a good point of view.  Tyrion doesn’t want to marry Sansa, but he resigns himself to go through with it because he feels that he doesn’t have a choice.  His father has demanded it, and he sees no way out of the marriage.  Never mind that Shae has given him a choice: they could go across the sea and start a new life together.  Tyrion could escape his cruel father, wicked sister, and psychotic nephew, and be with the woman he claims to love.  But it would mean giving up much of how he defines himself: he would give up the game and he would give up the traditions he has been brought up with.

“The Bear and the Maiden Fair” touched on tradition and history in ways other than love.  Over in Yunkai, Dany threatens to burn the city to the ground, just as she did in Astapor, unless the Yunkish free their slaves.  The Yunkai emissary argues that the city is ancient and that it has withstood attacks before, and it will withstand another.  But he doesn’t explain why tradition will save his city.  Just that it will.  Many in Westeros and Essos put their faith in tradition and keeping things the same, arguing that because things have worked out before, they will work out again.  From Tyrion, thinking that he must stay in a situation that makes him unhappy, to the Yunkish, believing they will continue on in the face of a new kind of threat, to Orell the Wildling, arguing that Ygritte should choose another Wildling as a partner.  These people all think that the past should dictate the future.  And that kind of thinking will ensure that they will never progress, whether it be in their campaigns or their happiness.

Look at the counter-examples.  Dany is smashing the old status quo; she is a queen that many follow willingly because she shows compassion and defies the traditions of Essos.  When she sees injustice, she defies it, even though injustice has been internalized as normal by the local population.  Or look at Jaime and Brienne, another “couple” that falls under the “bear and maiden fair” metaphor.  These two aren’t in love, but their growing respect and camaraderie defies tradition and expectation.  They began as bitter enemies from opposing sides of a war who couldn’t trust each other.  Brienne saw Jaime as a soiled knight who was worthy of nothing but scorn because he did not live up to the ideas of what a knight should be.  Jaime didn’t take Brienne seriously because she is a woman in a world that sees women as commodities.  But their experiences have caused them to see each other as friends and allies, and they are stronger for it.  Neither sees the other as a person who will save them or as a figure who will fulfill a role in a grand narrative.  Instead, they’re simply two people who share similar values and can be there for the other when it really matters.  For instance, when one is being attacked by a bear, dressed as a maiden fair.

Random Thoughts:

·         Throughout the season, critics and viewers have complained about Theon’s scenes.  They have not been episode highlights, but I didn’t find them especially awful.  But last night, I realized why they are problematic: Theon’s story isn’t advancing.  Non-readers still don’t know who is captor is, and each week, Theon comes no closer to escaping or advancing in his plotline.  He isn’t present in the third book, and by the time we see him again in the fifth, all of what we are seeing on-screen has already occurred, and his captor’s ultimate intention has been fulfilled.  There really is no reason to see Theon be tortured in new ways each and every week, with no change or progression to his story, other than to keep Alfie Allen employed.

·         As always, Tywin has one of the best scenes in the episode.  He may be the only person in the Seven Kingdoms who is not only not afraid of Joffrey but can strike fear into the little shit.  Tyrion isn’t afraid to call out Joffrey to his face, but he rightly fears the kid.  But Tywin, who looked positively enormous next to his nephew, never flinched once when his nephew, his king, questioned his methods.

·         On the other hand, Tywin foolishly dismisses the idea that Dany and her dragons pose a threat.  Much like with the White Walkers, if something is out of sight to the powerful in Westeros, it should be out of mind.  Although, to be fair, even the things that are in sight, such as the suffering of the smallfolk, aren’t exactly occupying Tywin’s thoughts.

·         Another danger of love and tradition in Westeros: Margeary inadvertently reveals to Sansa that she has had multiple lovers.  Keep in mind that this is a world where a woman’s value is tied to her virginity, and this revelation could have dire consequences for her.

·         Here is a point about tradition that I’m less certain about: Melisandre tells Gendry that tradition doesn’t matter because people can shape their destinies.  Gendry complains that he’s a bastard and that he’s not special, but Melisandre says that her mother was a slave, and that she overcame that stigma to become a powerful priestess of R’Hllor.  She seems to believe that ambition and drive can overcome tradition… then tells Gendry that he’s special because he’s descended from a king.  I’m pretty sure this was intentional, to show that she’s a hypocrite who will do whatever suits her most, but the scene gave me more of a “hey wait” feeling than a “how clever” feeling.

·         Arya has a very black and white view of the world.  Foreshadowing!

Game of Thrones Review To Be Delayed

Due to Mother’s Day festivities, tonight’s Game of Thrones review will likely be delayed.

Game of Thrones Season 3, Episode 6: The Climb

After a few shaky episodes at the start of this season, Game of Thrones is reminding me why I loved it so much during its first season, and is consistently giving us episodes that equal or surpass the quality of the first season.  Even when storylines only get one scene per episode or when a story’s forward momentum consists of characters sitting around and talking, the writers and actors know how to give us enough to keep us interested and present it in an intriguing and suspenseful manner.

Let’s begin with one of the two best scenes of the episode: the negotiation between Tywin Lannister and Olenna Tyrell.  The scene is nothing but two elderly people trying to broker a marriage deal.  And yet the scene works because there is so much at stake for both parties, and so much emotional weight for the viewers.  And Charles Dance and Dianna Rigg both play these roles with such gusto that every syllable they utter is infused with an almost delightful contempt for their opponent.  Both Tywin and Olenna know that the future of their families will be greatly affected by the marriages of their children.  Alliances are solidified through marriage, and property and titles pass through the family line.  Olenna needs Loras to marry and have children so that, as the heir to Highgarden, the Tyrells remain in control of The Reach.  Tywin needs to find a way to quell the rumor that Joffrey is the produce of incest between Jaime and Cersei, and thus not the heir to the throne.  Tywin and Olenna each have damning evidence against the other, but also know that their own dirty secrets are known to the other.  They are almost equal verbal sparring partners, and the exchange is incredible.  But in the end, Tywin has the upper hand because, as Hand of the King, he has the final trump card of naming Loras to the Kingsguard, thus assuring he will not procreate.  It’s a tad dismaying watching Olenna finally beaten after weeks of her proving just how shrewd she is, but we finally see that at the end of the day, the desire to keep her family in power does exist in her after all.  And we are again reminded of just how dangerous Tywin Lannister is.

And dangerous he is.  Jaime and Brienne are still the captives of Roose Bolton at Harrenhal, and despite losing his hand the last time he invoked his father’s name, Jaime says that Bolton can either be paid for returning him to his father, or pay for not returning him to his father.  Faced with death at the hands of Robb for betraying him to the Lannisters or death at the hands of Tywin for serving the Starks, he chooses to appease Tywin.  Tywin is not only more terrifying, he can also offer Bolton more than Robb can.  Elsewhere, the Freys try to see just what Robb can offer them.  They drive a hard bargain to remain loyal to him, and they have all the power in the room, because Robb needs them.  Edmure points out the perverse (from a Westerosi point of view) nature of the negotiation, noting that the Freys are sworn to serve the Tullys, who are the lords of the Riverlands.  But duty and honor don’t mean as much to most families in Westeros.

Bolton and the Freys aren’t the only ones making a play to achieve more power through any means necessary.  Although the Brotherhood Without Banners’ goal of helping people is more noble than the selfishness of Bolton and the Freys, they sometimes have to do dishonorable things to achieve it.  Last week, they took all of Clegane’s possessions after they declared him innocent in the eyes of R’Hllor, stating that they needed them for the war effort.  This week, they sold Gendry to Melissandre for her dark rituals.  They justify it by saying that they are serving their god and that they need money to buy supplies and weapons to further their mission.  But Arya’s indignation is justified; the Brotherhood betrayed a man who chose to join them – to fight for them and build armor for them – because he believed in their cause.  After declaring that he was done serving men, Gendry was betrayed by his new “family” and forced to serve their god.

Achieving more power and political gamesmanship has always been at the center of Game of Thrones.  Hell, it’s the title of the show.  But the other best scene in this episode is another amazing description of one character’s viewpoint of how the game is played.  In the past, we’ve seen Varys describe the nature of power as being a lie, and that power exists where we believe it exists.  Tonight, we hear Littlefinger’s point of view, and it’s a doozy.  After an episode of seeing the seeds of chaos and alliance shifts sown, Aidan Gillan gives a killer performance as Littlefinger, delivering a speech dripping with contempt for everything.  To him, nearly everything in the world is a lie, a social construct.  Family, religion, love; they are all distractions from the one truth that is the quest for power.  To Littlefinger, all there is in this world is the ascent to power.  This climb is chaos incarnate; many try and fail, others never attempt it because they cling to the social constructs that give us comfort.  But Littlefinger revels in the chaos.  He is detached from all connections that most people make.  He has no love for anyone but himself.  And so he is ideally suited to climb this ladder and achieve power.  It doesn’t matter if, as Varys postulated earlier in the season, he becomes king of a war-torn hellhole.  He will be king and he will have conquered chaos.

Random Thoughts

·         Littlefinger’s speech eventually goes to voiceover as we see images of Joffrey’s latest sadistic episode, Sansa crying when she realizes she has again missed the opportunity to escape King’s Landing because she believed something good was going to happen there, and Jon Snow and Ygritte reaching the top of the Wall.  Throughout “The Climb,” they and the other Wildlings had been making the dangerous ascent.  They finally reach the top right as Littlefinger’s speech about a metaphorical climb comes to a close.

·         Melissandre looks into Arya’s eyes and sees a darkness in her, along with multiple different colors of eyes.  A man wonders what the future holds in store for her.

·         We know that Sam was pretty weak when he got to the Wall, but did he not think to learn that it would be beneficial to learn how to build a fire?

·         The threat of naming Loras to the Kingsguard is another reference to the books.  In that storyline, Loras is named to the Kingsguard – at Olenna’s insistence, no less – because he wants to keep close to Joffrey to ensure that the little sadist doesn’t hurt his sister.  There is no issue regarding the passage of Highgarden because Loras has two brothers (and Olenna planned on marrying Sansa to his eldest, Willas, the heir to Highgarden).

·         In the books, Melissandre does not take Gendry.  Instead, she uses one of Robert’s bastards named Edric Storm.  I realize I like the show’s plot better because we have a relationship with Gendry, and we (and Arya) don’t want to see him sacrificed.  Edric’s plight was used to develop Davos in the books because Davos became a sort of caretaker and argued to Stannis that sacrificing Edric would cost him his soul.  I don’t see why Davos can’t do that with Gendry, though.

·         I know I have revealed the identity of Theon’s torturer in these reviews, but I realized tonight that people who have not read the books (or these reviews) still don’t know who he is.  I like how the show provides subtle hints to those who are paying extremely close attention.  Make sure you study the banners seen throughout the episode and pay attention to what the man does to Theon.

·         “I trust her, even though she tells me not to.”  Sansa, I thought you were starting to understand how things work in King’s Landing.

Game of Thrones Season 3, Episode 5: Kissed By Fire

Honor’s a bitch.  Throughout “Kissed By Fire,” we see how being bound by one’s view of honor can have devastating effects on people’s lives.  In Season 1, Ned Stark’s blind adherence to his notion of honor got him killed.  And now, two seasons later, we see how it could blind him to the truth.  But a new idea is spreading throughout Westeros and Essos.  Something that could upend the fundamental way of life.  Choice.

Let’s start with a scene that worked amazingly well in spite of the fact that it violated the cardinal rule of storytelling.  Any writer or director worth his or her salt knows that you should show, not tell.  (In case there was any doubt, The Last Airbender proved that M. Night Shyamalan is not worth his salt.)  Jaime’s tale of why he killed King Aerys begs for a flashback sequence.  Hell, there could probably be an entire episode devoted to telling this story visually.  And yet the producers, who have a “no flashbacks” rule, impart one of the most meaningful bits of backstory to us through a scene that is nothing more than Jaime telling the story to Brienne while in a hot tub.  And it was amazing.  It works in part because the story is so compelling.  The world views Jaime as a man without honor because he broke his knightly vows and killed the man he was sworn to protect.  When thinking of Jaime, people conveniently forget that it was common knowledge that King Aerys was a madman who killed people for the hell of it.  But people don’t realize that Jaime’s situation was even more challenging.  If he were to honor his vows, he personally would have had to kill his father (something that would have been viewed with as much scorn as breaking his vow), and by letting Aerys live, he would be condemning all of King’s Landing to a fiery death.  Brienne wonders why Jaime never told anyone his story, and he responds that the sight of him next to the body of Aerys was enough to condemn him in Ned’s eyes.  Never mind that it was Aerys that Ned was rebelling against.  Or that Jaime saved countless lives by killing Aerys.  To Ned, and the people of Westeros, Jaime committed a cardinal sin by making a choice.  Jaime’s story shows why few people step out of line when presented with a choice.  When people exercise their discretion and do what they see as right, they are more often than not punished for it.

And so people continue to fall in line, even if it makes their lives miserable.  Tyrion and Cersei may protest Twyin’s plan to marry them off to people they have no interest in, but they know they have little choice in the matter.  Tyrion puts up a stronger fight than Cersei because of the sheer cruelty of his marriage to Sansa, but he buckles quickly.  Robb, bound by a Starkian view of honor, kills one of his bannermen after the lord in question murders two Lannister prionsers.  Robb is right in seeing it as murder and in declaring that he must show that he will serve justice, no matter if the transgressor was an ally.  But he lives in Westeros, a world where honor will only get you dead, and he’s fighting a war against people all too willing to exploit his honorable tendencies.  Across the sea, Ser Barristan reminisces about how he has spent much of his life serving kings that disgusted him.  Aerys and Joffrey were psychopaths, Robert was a drunk.  But he continued serving them because he vowed to serve the king.  It was not his place to decide which king he was to serve.

But the idea of choice is starting to take a foothold, and it is mainly growing amongst those who have the least power.  The Brotherhood Without Banners are downright democratic by Westerosi standards.  As Gendry points out, they chose Beric to be their leader, and it is this aspect of the group that draws Gendry to their cause.  He tells Arya he’s done serving people, as he has served his whole life.  When she points out that now he’ll be serving Beric, he responds that he’s choosing to do so.  Beric leads a cause that he believes in, and as soon as Beric’s ideals no longer align with his own, Gendry can leave.

The Wildlings are also big proponents of democracy.  They chose Mance Rayder to be their king, and Ygritte is free to choose whatever man she desires.  Wedding vows and political marriages mean nothing to her; she picks people because she wants to be with them.  And she enjoys her life much more than any noble down in Westeros, despite living in the harsh conditions of the lands north of the Wall.

Dany is beginning to implement a more democratic style of ruling.  She allows the Unsullied to choose their leader, and she tells them that they are to be in control of their own destiny.  She still clings to words like “queen” and “khaleesi,” but she is allowing a much greater degree of choice among her subjects than the other monarchs on the show.

Random Thoughts:

·        We are introduced to another type of magic in this episode: resurrection.  Also, Beric and Thoros fear what would happen if someone who died in a rather disfiguring manner is brought back to life.  I wonder if that will happen…

·        Cersei is still complaining about the Tyrells to anyone who will listen.  But at least she’s self-aware enough to realize that she doesn’t have any facts to support her paranoia.

          How do leaders always conveniently have chess pieces that perfectly symbolize the sides of the war they are fighting?

Game of Thrones Season 3, Episode 4: And Now His Watch Is Ended

Now that’s more like it.  After three episodes that I felt lukewarm on, “And Now His Watch Is Ended” feels like a return to form for Game of Thrones.  For the first time this season, the story lines in the episode advanced to a point of climax, resolving conflicts and setting up new ones.  Well, for the most part, anyway.  Bran had a single scene that did almost nothing aside from show that Jojen Reed is teaching him as he dreams and that Bran might be remembering Cat as a dark force in his life.

But I digress.  This episode saw various characters confront the illusions around them, from illusions imposed by society to the illusions that they create to help themselves cope with an unfair life.  And in the process, some big changes occurred.  Let’s start with King’s Landing, a place that runs on illusion.  Joffrey continues to act like a child trying to impress his mother when he’s around Margeary.  She knows exactly how to help build an illusion for him in order to manipulate him into doing what’s in her best interest.  Fortunately for the people of King’s Landing and Westeros, Margeary understands that her best interest involves a contented populace.  This sets her apart from people like Cersei or Littlefinger, both of whom crave power and will do anything to achieve it.  And yet neither one seems to understand that they will only be able to hold power if they use it wisely.  The idea of a monarchy is so deeply ingrained in Westerosi society that some can’t seem to remember that the people will revolt under the right circumstances.  Although power is concentrated in a small few, if you push people hard enough, they will fight back.  Cersei should know this because she married Robert Baratheon, who successfully led a revolt against the Targaryan dynasty.  But as Tywin points out, she’s not nearly as smart as she thinks she is.  After giving him an impassioned speech about how, of Tywin’s three children, she is the only one who ever cared enough to listen to him, and that she shouldn’t be discounted because she’s a woman, she immediately complains that the Tyrells are a problem.  Tywin shatters her illusion of herself when he points out that it is Margeary, and not her, who can reign in Joffrey’s darker impulses, and that before the Tyrells arrived, the people of King’s Landing nearly killed the royal family.  Tywin doesn’t have a love of the people, but he understands that they are not to be antagonized.  Meanwhile, Varys  sums up Littlefinger’s character perfectly when he states that Littlefinger would “let this country burn if it meant he could be king of the ashes.”  Littlefinger wants to be king.  He seeks the title because he thinks the title is power.  For as smart as he is, he can’t quite grasp that a king’s true power comes from it’s people, and that to be a king of a barren, desolate land would be the hollowest of victories.  It seems like the one person in King’s Landing operating under no illusions is Olenna Tyrell.  She understood that her son, Lord Mace Tyrell of Highgarden, wouldn’t have stood a chance fighting against Robert Baratheon in the rebellion, and complains about the weakness of House Tyrell’s words and sigils.  She cares about her family and wants power, but she has no illusions about the truth of situations.  As I said in a previous review, she is not blinded by family allegiance the way many in Westeros are, and this gives her a significant advantage over most other characters.

Elsewhere, Theon’s story reached a bit of a climax even though he ended up right back where he was last week.  The difference is that now, he knows who is true captor is and he has fully realized the depth of the mistakes he made.  Theon’s illusion was the idea that we are born into roles.  This makes sense because he was raised in both a monarchy and a culture that instilled a very specific set of values into him.  The Ironborn are a special breed they tell themselves.  They “Do Not Sow,” they take what they want and they destroy the weak.  Theon is not cut out for this way of life.  But rather than embrace the life of the Starks, his “adoptive” family, he tried to prove himself to the people he had been conditioned his whole life to want to please.  Because if he couldn’t, he would be among the weak they sought to destroy.  But the memories of what he did to the innocent, to the weak who could not protect themselves, haunted him, gave him shame.  And in that moment, he realized that it’s not the name you are born with that defines you, but the choices you make.  Too bad for him he chose to follow Ramsay Snow, a psychopath who played his savior but is actually his captor.

Jaime, on the other hand (no pun intended), sees identity in a much more specific place.  To him, it’s not his name that defines him, but his gods-given skill.  The loss of his sword hand has made him lose all hope, all desire to keep living.  He was his hand, that was the only value he saw in himself.  Without it, what’s the point of going on?  It takes a speech from Brienne to make him realize how naïve he is.  She points out that, in the real world, people lose important things all the time.  People have to adapt.

Moving back to the people, this episode finally begins to show us just how much the game of thrones is affecting the common people.  The Brotherhood Without Banners are the common people of Westeros, fighting not for a king or a lord, but for their homes, for the common good.  They represent the true victims of this conflict.  Tyrion was nearly killed by a man working for Cersei and Sansa is a pawn in a sick, twisted game, but they have some measure of power, and they continue to live in comfort.  The common people are killed of who controls the land they live on.  Their crops and homes are commandeered for “the good of the realm,” and they suffer other, greater punishments because the soldiers employed by the great lords have no respect for life.  So the Brotherhood has decided to fight back.  They may not be a huge threat to the armies of the warring lords, but they serve as a reminder that power comes from the people.  The uprising has started.

Dany also realizes that power comes from the people.  In freeing the Unsullied, she wins over their loyalty.  Barristan pointed out to her that Rhaegar’s men fought for him because they loved him, not because they were slaves, and now Dany has a vast army of well-trained warriors who are absolutely devoted to her.

Random Thoughts

·         How is it that so many people seem to know about Jaime and Cersei’s sexual proclivities?

·         Varys tells Tyrion that the contents of a man’s letters are more valuable than the contents of his purse.  Later, we see Tywin writing letters.  Book readers will know that the contents of those letters are extremely valuable.

·         The Night’s Watch story has reached a turning point, with a chaotic mutiny, led by creepy-faced Burn Gorman.

·         The Brotherhood Without Banners does have the slight problem of assigning guilt by association.  Arya provides them with a victim to justify their condemnation of Sandor Clegane, but it serves as a reminder that even the most justified uprisings will engage in extremism.

·         On the other hand, while Sandor Clegane isn’t the psychopath his brother Gregor is, he is by no means a good person.  And the “just following orders” excuse is never convincing.

Game of Thrones Season 3, Episdoe 3: Walk of Punishment

How do you know who to trust?  When you’re in the middle of a war, you would think that you could trust the people fighting on your side.  But unless you’re on the front lines, when you hold your fellow soldiers’ lives in your hands and they in turn hold yours in theirs, people can have their own objectives they are trying to achieve that, while not opposed to the greater cause, might run counter to your own.  And when you are in the thick of the fighting, a former enemy may prove a friend when a common threat is presented.

Compare and contrast the situation in King’s Landing, where everyone should be working together to achieve a Lannister victor, and Jaime and Brienne’s predicament.  Brienne is Jaime’s captor, sent to ransom him back to his family, but when they both become captives of a third party, Jaime realizes that the most pragmatic course of action is to work together.  Brienne doesn’t want to listen to him, as they had been fighting just before they were captured, but her black and white world view blinds her to what Jaime sees so clearly.  The Bolton men are not honorable, and they will not hesitate to rape and/or kill Brienne because she has no value to them.  Only by working together can the two get away from their captors.  Meanwhile, in King’s Landing, far removed from any fighting, no one seems to be on the same side, even though they’re all on the same side of the war.  In theory, at least.  Littlefinger is really just on his own side, but Cersei and Tyrion, members of the same family, remain at odds.  In fact, everyone seems to be working against Tyrion.  He is appointed the new Master of Coin after Littlefinger is dispatched to the Eyrie to wed Lysa Arryn, and no one cares about his protests that he is absolutely wrong for the position.  Knowing how politically shrewd Tyrion is, it’s a bit surprising he doesn’t wonder aloud whether he is being set up to fail.

Robb, meanwhile, learns that you can’t always trust the people who fight for you.  Robb’s problem, though, is that his uncle, Edmure Tully, is not a skilled tactician.  Edmure defies Robb’s orders, thinking that he’ll be able to score a victory against the Lannisters.  He does, but it’s purely pyrrhic; Robb had hoped to draw out Tywin Lannister for a final fight, but Edmure’s attack caused him to retreat back to King’s Landing.  Had Edmure waited, Robb could have ended the war.  Instead, the war goes on, and Robb has only gained an insignificant piece of land.  Among all of this, Mance Rayder again proves to be among the shrewdest characters on the show.  He orders Jon Snow to assist in attacking the Wall, as Jon has the best knowledge of the layout of the Night’s Watch’s castles.  But Mance knows that he still can’t trust Jon.

On the subject of the Tullys, the show did a pretty good job introducing Edmure and Brynden “Blackfish,” two characters who are introduced in the first book.  It is a bit jarring to suddenly be expected to know two characters who have such important roles in both Robb’s family and his campaign, but the silent funeral scene tells us most of what we need to know about them.

This episode was mostly an improvement over the previous two this season.  Things are starting to happen (Dany offered to trade a dragon for 8,000 Unsullied soldiers, Jon was sent to attack the Wall, Jaime learned that he can’t bargain his way out of every situation, Pod got some action), but the slow pace per character problem persists.  At this point, I need to realize that the sprawling nature of the show necessitates this structure and that Game of Thrones focuses on the long game, rather than the episode-by-episode story.  Still, I find it strange that I’m not enjoying this season more so far, seeing as how A Storm of Swords is my favorite book in the series.

Random Thoughts

·         Some casting notes:  I’m still not loving Stephen Dillane as Stannis Baratheon.  In his one scene tonight, he came off as whiny and jealous when he asked Melissandre not to go.  Stannis is supposed to be a battle-hardened, no-nonsense commander, and unfortunately, Dillane just isn’t selling it.  Also, I did not realize who Theon’s supposed savior is supposed to be.  When I found out, I was quite surprised, as the character is described in the books as a bit of a brute, whereas actor Iwan Rheon, of Misfits, is not.

·         Brynden notes that The Riverlands are part of Robb’s kingdom, which means that (1) Robb is fighting to be more than just king of The North, and (2) the Lannisters have a greater interest in stomping out Robb’s claim to royalty than we initially were led to believe.  Losing The North, while humiliating, is ultimately meaningless because it’s largely uninhabitable.  Losing The Riverlands would be a big deal because it contains lots of fertile farmland.

·         Brynden notes to Catelyn that much of The Riverlands are untouched by the war.  This seems to clash not only with the story from the books, but also the first season of the show.  In one scene, a farmer asked Ned for help in stopping Ser Gregor, who was going through The Riverlands destroying farms.

·         Podrick Payne, world class lover.

Game of Thrones Season 3, Episode 2: Dark Wings, Dark Words

Toward the beginning of “Dark Wings, Dark Words,” there is a scene in which Joffrey and Cersei discuss his impending marriage to Margeary Tyrell.  Cersei, who has less and less control over Joffrey every day, tries to discern how Joffrey personally feels about Margeary, fearful that this young woman will usurp her place in her son’s life.  But Joffrey only responds in terms of how he sees Margeary politically.  He notes that marrying a Tyrell is the right move to consolidate his strength and crush the rebels from The North and The Iron Islands.  The Tyrells aided them against Stannis’ forces, and they deserve Margeary’s ascension to queen as repayment.  Cersei points out that initially, Margeary and the Tyrells swore fealty to Renly, and asks whether that gives Joffrey pause.  He says it doesn’t, because Margeary only married Renly because she was told to, and intelligent women only do what they’re told.  That one line says so much about a fatal flaw possessed by many in Westeros: they see a very gray, nuanced world only in shades of black and white.

Very soon after the Joffrey/Cersei scene, we have the pleasure of meeting Lady Olenna Tyrell, known to many as the Queen of Thorns.  She is Margeary’s grandmother and the mother of Lord Mace Tyrell, the current lord of The Reach, and she is not afraid to speak her mind.  She summons Sansa to ask her about Joffrey’s true nature, as there are plenty of rumors about his sadism and cowardice, and she wants to make sure she knows exactly what her granddaughter is getting into.  Sansa at first gives her standard, rehearsed responses about how Joffrey is a great king and a good man, but it doesn’t take much prodding from Olenna to get her to fess up.  In one brief scene, Olenna reveals herself to be one of the shrewdest players in Westeros.  She not only dispels Joffrey’s view of “smart women,” she does what few other characters on the show can do: see things objectively.  She knows her son is an oaf.  She knows what sort of man her granddaughter is marrying.  And she knows she can’t change these facts, so she sets about finding ways to turn these problems into advantages.  Meanwhile, poor Sansa, who acknowledges that Ned’s stubborn belief in always telling the truth at all times is what got him killed, can’t help but be a Stark and tell the truth.  Even though it means her own death if Joffrey finds out.

Elsewhere, numerous characters have varying degrees of defeats and humiliations based on their deeply held beliefs being upended by grim reality.  Osha underestimates the skills of the Reed siblings when she doesn’t consider that an unarmed boy might have a protector nearby.  Robb can’t see why his bannermen are unnerved by his marriage to Talisa because he married her for love, and what could be nobler than that?  The lords of Westeros are supposed to have the country’s best interests at heart, and yet while they continue to play the game of thrones and endanger the smallfolk, it is the Brotherhood Without Banners, supposedly a gang of outlaws, who seek to heal the realm.  Jaime believes that he will quickly defeat Brienne in a swordfight because she’s a woman.  And Brienne is unwilling to kill an innocent man who might be able to ID Jaime and thereby disrupt the mission she vowed to accomplish because she sees herself as a knight, and part of being a knight is protecting the innocent.  Brienne even gets another dose of mismatched reality and expectations when forced to fight Jaime.  As the Kingslayer points out, if she kills him, she’ll actively fail in her mission to Catelyn, but if she does not kill him, she will die, and, once again, fail in her mission.  Jaime points out how Brienne’s view of a world full of binaries – honorable or not honorable, win or lose – can’t possibly apply to a world full of uncertainties and moral gray areas.

And so we circle back to Joffrey and his view of women.  Toward the end of the episode, he has a scene with Margeary.  It begins like how many of his scenes with Sansa have progressed, with him initially appearing kind and sweet, only to reveal his anger and contempt for anyone that’s not him.  But Margeary plays him like a fiddle by acting exactly how Joffrey thinks she should act.  She strokes his ego, she downplays her intelligence and her agency, and she says what she knows must be said to keep him happy.  By the end of the scene, she has Joffrey actively trying to impress her, like a little kid seeking recognition from his mother.

Random Thoughts

·         Ok, so how have I been enjoying the season so far?  Honestly, I’m getting a little worried about this show.  I haven’t really loved the show since the first season.  As many people have pointed out, the show is becoming so sprawling that there is so little time to focus on a particular character’s storyline each week, which means we only get one or two scenes per character per episode.  Add in the fact that a lot of the stories we are watching (Jon Snow north of the Wall, Bran and co., Arya and her friends, Brienne and Jaime) consist of people walking for most of the scenes until some conflict comes along, these episodes feel both fleeting and somewhat empty.

·         I also continue to have problems with some of the changes the producers are making with the source material.  I know that this is not a problem that I should ascribe to the show, and some changes can be rather inspired.  But Catelyn’s speech about her guilt about Jon Snow really took me out of the episode, because it went against Catelyn’s staunch devotion to family and honor.  She never considered Jon family, and viewed the fact that her husband fathered a bastard to be a stain on their honor.

·         Mance Rayder, much like the kings south of the Wall, needs to unite warring factions.  Unlike the kings south of the Wall, he has figured out how: by pointing out how they share a common interest that trumps their petty squabbles.

Game of Thrones Review To Be Delayed

Due to the 2 hour Mad Men season premiere, the Game of Thrones review won’t go up until sometime tomorrow, most likely in the afternoon.

Game of Thrones Season 3, Episode 1: Valar Dohaeris

Many of the trailers for season 2 of Game of Thrones were built around a monologue spoken by Lord Varys.  He told Tyrion a riddle, but instead of testing the listener’s cunning, the riddle served as an indication of the listener’s beliefs.  Varys’ riddle forces the listener to reveal where they believe “true power” lies by setting up a situation in which a king, a rich man, and a priest all ask a mercenary to kill the other two men.  In answering, you state whether you are motivated by loyalty, money, or faith.  The question of where true power lies is a major theme of the entire A Song of Ice and Fire series, and tonight’s third season premiere, “Valar Dohaeirs,” asks us to think about why a listener would give a specific answer.

This is an episode about perception.  Throughout the hour, characters argue over their points of view, assigning their own meaning to the recent events in Westeros and beyond.  Did Tyrion fail in his role as Hand of the King, or did he hold together as best he could a corrupt city ruled by a psychotic child?  Is Melisandre a monstrous religious extremist who burns people who don’t believe in her god, or is she Stannis’ best hope for ruling the Seven Kingdoms?  Are the citizens a group to be aided by rulers or feared by them?  When pursuing your desires, do you relax your morals in order to ensure a victory?  Is Bronn a hero deserving of praise and recognition, or a dirty mercenary who has had the good fortune to meet the right people who allowed him to advance beyond his station in life?  There is only one certainty in Westeros: there is no such thing as a definite “truth.”

We are obviously more inclined to see things from certain characters’ points of view due to our affection for them and the amount of time we spend with them.  When Tywin states his disapproval to Tyrion regarding the latter’s method of serving as Hand of the King, we side with Tyrion because we saw him doing his damnedest to run Westeros while Joffrey did everything he could to make the people hate him.  (And, you know, he’s Tyrion, one of the wittiest, most enjoyable characters on the show; how could we not like him?)  And yet, Tywin has some good reasons for being upset with Tyrion, even if we the viewers disagree.  Tywin focuses on how Tyrion continued his lifestyle of bedding prostitutes and drinking with mercenaries.  The fact that Tyrion was able to do his job reasonably well doesn’t matter because these activities could spell doom for a ruler.  Tywin worked hard to rebuild the stern image of his family after his father’s behavior made the Lannister name into a joke, and he’s not about to let his son undo all of his hard work.  On the other hand, who do we side with when we favor both parties equally?  We can sympathize with Cat’s decision to barter Jaime for her daughters, while understanding Robb’s anger over letting him go.  So was Robb correct to imprison his own mother, who had served as a wise consultant and had “betrayed” him for sympathetic, even honorable, reasons?

And what happens when your perspective clashes with your goals?  Both Davos and Daenerys have to learn where to strike a balance when their morality conflicts with their desires.  Davos is devoted, to an almost fanatical degree, to Stannis Baratheon.  To Davos, Stannis’ claim to the Iron Throne extends beyond the fact that he is next in line by blood; Stannis is just and honorable, and those are the qualities that make a king.  And yet, Davos believes in his heart that Melisandre is a menace and must be eliminated, even though she ostensibly shares Davos’ goal: to help elevate Stannis to the Iron Throne.  What’s even more ironic is that much of Davos’ distrust of Melisandre lies in the fact that she is a religious fanatic.  They each answer to a higher authority to an unhealthy degree, and for that reason, they cannot see eye-to-eye.  Davos believes so strongly that Melisandre is a threat to Stannis that he puts his own relationship with the man he worships in jeopardy.  For now, his morality has landed him in prison, ordered there by the very man he seeks to serve.

Dany, on the other hand, hasn’t made up her mind yet.  Her dilemma concerns the morality of using slaves to retake Westeros.  Ser Jorah tells her that the Unsullied, a group of slaves trained to be the ultimate warriors, are a “means to an end,” and although she may abhor the idea of slavery, she will need them if she wishes to sit the Iron Throne.  Considering the fact that Jorah was exiled from Westeros for dealing in slavery, it’s no surprise that this reasoning doesn’t convince Dany.  The episode ends with Dany not yet making a decision as to whether or not she will take Jorah’s advice, but it seems unlikely.

Dany’s slavery dilemma raises another issue about perspective: when your goal is to lead people, is abandoning morality ever a means to an end?  Last year, Joffrey nearly lost the throne because of how people perceived him.  Few in King’s Landing were willing to fight for him, and people beyond the city were all too willing to swear fealty to Stannis.  If Dany hopes to rule, she must take into account how her subjects will perceive the fact that she is willing to enslave people to achieve her ends.  This dilemma is expertly addressed by Margaery Tyrell.  In King’s Landing, Margaery immediately establishes herself as a woman of the people, providing food and clothing to the homeless children in Flea Bottom.  At a dinner with her, Ser Loras, Joffrey, and Cersei, Loras brags of Margaery’s charity work in Highgarden, which draws scoffs from Cersei.  To Cersei, the people are a necessary evil of ruling.  She cites the riot that sprung up when she and Joffrey were last in Flea Bottom, claiming that the citizens are unruly and more than likely to attack those who rule them.  This scene shows how truly senseless Cersei is.  Not only does she not realize that people will be less likely to revolt if they are shown kindness and concern by their leaders, but she also doesn’t realize that all that is required is the appearance of kindness and concern.  She has portrayed herself throughout the series as a chessmaster, yet can’t grasp the basic concept that other people vying for power have their own styles of playing the game.  She is aware that everyone is a player in the game of thrones, but can’t comprehend that there are strategies much better than her own.

Power resides where people believe it resides.  But what fuels their beliefs?  Can they be won over to a different side through that side’s kindness?  Through the cruelty of the side they had originally pledged allegiance to?  And when multiple perspectives are backed with convincing evidence, how do you prove that you are right?

Random Thoughts

·         Some more perspective ideas: the wildlings follow Mance Rayder because he tells them they are free, and yet they call him “king”; many people believe that a person’s worth is determined by noble birth, rather than how the person chooses to conduct their life; which is the better course of action, staying alive, or fighting for what you believe in?

·         Tywin says that he can’t prove that Tyrion isn’t his son.  Is this a reference to a fan theory about Tyrion’s heritage, or was this a line from the books (it’s been so long that some of the details are becoming fuzzy)?  Then again, if the line was in the books, it would certainly be used as evidence of said theory.

·         Margaery giving food to the people of Flea Bottom and praising how resilient they were when food was scarce would carry more meaning, and irony, had the siege of King’s Landing been a bigger plot point last year.  You know, seeing as how the siege was imposed by her father, Mace Tyrell, back when Highgarden had sworn allegiance to Renly.

·         Because television is a visual medium, they couldn’t really hide the ball with the reveal of Barristan Selmy, so unlike in the books, Jorah recognized him right away.

·         Cersei’s comment about how she heard that Tyrion had lost his nose is another reference to the book, in which he did lose his nose.  Once again, the television medium would make this difficult to portray.

The Legend of Korra Book 1, Episodes 11 and 12: Skeletons in the Closet; Endgame

The Legend of Korra has focused a lot on identity.  The most literal example is the season-long mystery of “who is Amon?”; all season, both characters and audience members have wondered about who the man is behind the mask.  But beyond that, these last two episodes address what could drive a man to such hatred, and how his personality was shaped.  And, most importantly, the season has examined Korra’s identity, which she defined purely in terms of her Avatar-ness.  The Hundred Years War was the right struggle for Aang’s story because he was a pacifist and had to learn how to fight a war that touched every corner of the world.  Korra’s struggle, which if left unchecked would eventually spread to the entire world, is the correct one for her growth because it directly threatens her sense of self.  For a woman who sees her bending skills as the ultimate definition of who she is, a man who can take it away amounts to an existential threat.

First a brief plot summary.  “Skeletons in the Closet” begins after Amon has achieved victory in Republic City.  The government has fallen and he has his followers line benders up so that he can execute his final solution.  The only obstacle left in the Equalists’ path to success is the United Forces, led by Zuko’s grandson Iroh.  But the Equalists are ready for them too, revealing that Hiroshi has developed sea mines and biplanes.  After the Equalists defeat the United Forces fleet, Iroh meets up with Korra, Mako, Bolin, and Asami in the sewers of Republic City and they try to figure out what their next move will be.  The group decides to split up, with Korra and Mako going after Amon and Bolin, Asami, and Iroh sabotaging the Equalists’ biplane hangar to allow Commander Bumi’s (Aang’s other son) reinforcements to have a fighting chance.

So who is Amon, and how did he come to be filled with so much hatred?  We were told that he was a poor farm boy from a non-bending family and that when he was young, a firebender killed his family and brutally burned his face, leaving a nasty scar.  This could certainly cause resentment.  But on the other hand, in the same episode in which he told that story, Mako revealed that he and Bolin lost their parents to the firebending Agni Kai gang, and they have adjusted properly, so could there be something else that intensified Amon’s hatred?  As it turns out, yes.

On Air Temple Island, Korra and Mako find Tarrlok imprisoned and he reveals that Amon is his brother and is a water- and bloodbender too.  Being the son of Yakone, Republic City’s most notorious and dangerous criminal, was already shown to have powerful effects on the psyche, but Tarrlok and Amon, or Noatak as he was born, each took very different paths as a result.  Tarrlok stated that, from a young age, Amon believed that people should be treated fairly and equally, and he disliked how his father mistreated the young Tarrlok when he proved not to be as powerful a bender as Amon.  It was through is father’s abuse of his brother that Amon grew to hate bending; if one man could be so powerful as to control others, that would give him an unequal edge over others.  Whether it be a bloodbender taking control of other people’s bodies, or the Avatar unilaterally deciding to take away someone’s power, the world would never be equal until bending was eliminated.  While Tarrlok channeled his hatred of his father into a desire to be a lawful public servant, Amon used his hate to justify his use of his gifts to strip people of their powers in an effort to make sure no one had powers.  Unfortunately for them both, they eventually became the thing they hated.  Tarrlok became a control freak who would do anything to have his will done, even if it meant harming people who were ultimately on his side, while Amon used what made him special to force others to be different.  Neither one could escape the ghost of their father and forge their own identity, no matter how much they tried.

Elsewhere, Hiroshi and Asami have their final showdown, which is both physical and philosophical.  They each think that they are doing what their lost loved one would want, and we see how far Hiroshi has fallen.  He has devoted his life to “equality” ever since he lost his wife to a bending gang.  He wants to make the world safer for his non-bender daughter, but his anger and desire for revenge ultimately consume him.  He is so blinded by his rage that he concludes that fighting his daughter, his only remaining family, is the right choice to make if it will protect his cause.  His cause, of course, was motivated by the desire to protect his remaining family.  Hiroshi has ultimately lost his identity to the greater cause of equality.  His personal desires and loves have faded away, leaving only a soldier for the cause.  On the other hand, the fight between father and daughter (which, like all the actions sequences in these episodes, is beautiful and exhilarating) shows just how strong of a person Asami is.  Her father first tries to appeal to her anger and sadness over the loss of her mother to win her over to his side, and when that doesn’t work, he tries to kill her.  She defends herself, but refuses to kill him when she has the chance.  She has grown to fully despise him, but even with all of her hatred towards him, she doesn’t think that killing him will solve things.

And so we come back to Korra.  In the first episode, she showed us that she had a lot to learn about the world.  She was naïve about why people suffered and how people could want for basic needs (having been sheltered and cared for by the Order of the White Lotus her entire life).  She was impatient and headstrong, which cut her off from the Spirit World.  And to her, bending was “the coolest thing in the world.”  Being a bender – and the Avatar, no less – made her who she was, and she had no patience for anyone who questioned that sentiment.  She lost her cool with the Equalist protestor because he suggested that some benders were oppressing non-benders, and she was at odds with Lin because the two of them had very different ideas over what role the Avatar was to play in keeping Republic City safe.  Now, while she still retains shades of these personality traits, she has grown immensely.  She understands that power can come from a variety of places, not just one’s ability to bend the elements.  When Tarrlok tells her the truth about Amon, she realizes that although he is an incredibly powerful bender, his “true power” is his ability to win over followers, and without his army, he is nothing.  She has become more cunning and understands why she needs the support of the people to be a successful Avatar.  But as I said, shades of her flaws remain, and they always will.  She remains naïve enough to think that just telling the Equalists the truth about Amon, without proof, will be enough to incite them to rebel.  And, when Amon finally makes good on his promise to energybend her, she becomes inconsolable about the loss of her identity.  She is strong enough to understand that Amon still needs to be dealt with, and holds off on sulking until after he’s defeated.  In the process, she finally succeeds in airbending, which she uses to thoroughly kick his ass.  But being unable to bend water, earth, or fire causes an absolute breakdown in her.  She doesn’t think of herself as the Avatar anymore, and when Mako declares his love for her, she can’t accept it.  She’s too traumatized, and she believes so much in the idea of her self being inextricably entwined with her status as the Avatar that she can’t understand how Mako could love her now.

Here’s where I have some frustration with the finale (aside from the continued Korra-Mako-Asami love triangle, which felt very rushed and forced).  Originally, The Legend of Korra was going to be a 12-episode mini-series, but Nickelodeon later commissioned a second season (and I’m pretty sure they’ve left things open to allow for a third).  If I knew that the show was never coming back, I would have absolutely loved the ending.  Seeing Korra finally get in touch with her spiritual side and achieve the Avatar State was fantastic, and watching Aang’s spirit return her bending abilities and teach her how to do the same to Amon’s other victims would have been the perfect ending.  But knowing that we’ll get at least another 14 episodes made me wonder what Season 2 could have been had it been the “Spirit Book” and follow Korra as she can only use airbending and interact with the Spirit World in a quest to regain her bending.  Way back when the season premiere aired I predicted that Amon would succeed in removing Korra’s bending, and it would teach her about how the other side lived and help her develop her spiritual side.  I was partly right, and I would have liked to have seen this develop slowly instead of in the span of 2 minutes.  Like I said, the ending was beautiful as it was, but I just can’t help thinking about what would have happened had the series been planned with a multi-season arc.  Oh well, like I said two weeks ago, it’s not my job to lament what could have been, especially when what we get is so damn good.  Until next year.

Random Thoughts:

·         Young Amon had Korra’s ponytail and a voice very similar to Aang’s, thus drawing further parallels between him and the Avatar.

·         I want to see more interaction between Tenzin and Bumi next year.

·         At first, I thought it was important symbolism that Amon was holding his rally against benders at the Pro Bending arena, which had the very purpose of being a shrine to the art of bending.  Then I realized that it’s a large space that can hold lots of people, so what better place to have the rally?

·         So why did Amon choose to have a firebender be the villain of his false story?  Based on his upbringing, I would think that he would want to vilify waterbenders the most.  Is there resentment towards firebenders after the 100 Years War?  Or are firebenders, on average, the bending group with the highest crime rate?  Mako and Bolin lost their parents to firebenders, and I think it was a firebender who killed Sato’s wife (but I can’t be sure).  I guess it was the best excuse for him to wear a mask.

·         Naga is an absolute beast, making (far too) easy work of Sato’s mecha tanks.

·         Trivia note: the first person to respond to my prediction comment stated that she was happy I wasn’t a writer for the show.  My response: me too, as it’d be nothing but Old Man Sokka making bad jokes.