Game of Thrones: “First of His Name”
(Season 4, Episode 5)
Shane Ryan and Josh Jackson review Game of Thrones each week in a series of letters.
Josh,
As a fellow book-reader, have you had the experience, like I did in last night’s “First of His Name,” where the show reminds you of details you’ve totally forgotten in the book? Maybe it’s a sign of my deteriorating brain, but I definitely had a “OH MY GOD, PETYR BAELISH KILLED JON ARRYN!” moment, and it’s the second time that’s happened. It’s almost like I went through an Eternal Sunshine treatment in order to enjoy the TV show free from the knowledge I gained reading the books. Am I alone? I’m asking because it’s a neat phenomenon, but also because I want you to reassure me that this isn’t a sign of early-onset dementia. I thank you in advance.
So, this episode was a blistering gem. From the opening scenes of Tommen’s coronation to the burning of Craster’s Keep, “Kissed By Fire” delivered what I think is the best episode of the season to date. We got a bit of everything—the scheming, the fighting, and the usual array of two-person scenes that Game of Thrones has always done so exceedingly well. I mean, what can you say about an episode where the dullest scene was a fun, buddy cop comedy starring Brienne and Poderick with a heartwarming conclusion?
But let’s start with Daenerys. You and I have complained, rightly I think, that her storyline has been pretty boring this season. She marches from town to town, conquering, making grandiloquent speeches and grander gestures, and laying waste to a landscape we don’t really know or care about. In this episode, though, we finally got to see a little bit of what made her so compelling in the first two seasons—growth. It had started to seem like she’d grown a bit brazen with power, and that the need for strategy had vanished in the face of her overwhelming force, but finally we got to see a bit of nuance in the Slaver’s Bay culture. Yes, of course Astapor and Yunkai devolved into despotism when she left. That’s what they’ve always known, and George R.R. Martin, being a student of history, knows that the character and history of a place can influence the future even when the shackles have seemingly been broken. Which presents a conundrum for Daenerys—take her army and leave the place in ruins as she fulfills a destiny that’s been nothing but fantasy since her childhood, or actually take this queen thing seriously. This was one of Jorah Mormont’s finest hours, and it was great to see him emerge as a trusted advisor and a smart strategist rather than a brooding exile who spends most of his time whining. And Daenerys listens, showing that there’s at least a seed of the wisdom that she’ll need if she ever does return to the seven kingdoms.
Daenerys is no longer a little girl, but Arya is, and when Cersei says, “everywhere in the world they hurt little girls,” she could be talking about a little Stark girl who she herself would have little compunction about harming. It was a little bit impressive watching Arya water dancing with Needle, but more than that, it made her seem sad and vulnerable. She’s got some moves, but the way they shot it made her look small in a harsh, rocky world, and the Hound made the metaphor manifest by laughing at her moves. To be totally fair, Arya showed the ultimate lack of gratitude by reciting his name in her list of “doomed men,” and she did attempt to kill him without much provocation (a deviation from the book I didn’t like, because despite her bratty recitation, I think Arya and the Hound have already been through too much, and there’s already a reluctant connection that precludes attempted murder), but the brutality of his retribution was like watching the myth of goodness and art embodied by Syrio Forel get dashed to pieces. It’s a valuable lesson, no doubt, but in a world where idealistic men get killed, the death of an aesthetic idealism—the kind you think that perhaps no one can touch—is hard to bear.
And I can’t finish the first email without mentioning the wonderful performance of Lena Headey as Cersei, who has been magnificent from the start but was especially terrific in three scenes last night: With Margaery, where she swallows her pride, admits her eldest son was a monster (“do you think I am easily shocked?”), and bravely accepts the subtle jabs; with Tywin, where she reveals that she lacks her father’s patience for strategy and economics, but not his ruthlessness; and with Oberyn Martell, where she manages to convince us of her love for her daughter. It can’t be easy to hit each of those notes without a false step, but Headey juggles Cersei’s complex character beautifully.
Okay, I’ll kick it over to you. What about Petyr Baelish and Lysa the Screamer? What about Jon Snow (is it just me, or did the Knight’s Watch do pretty poorly, considering they had the element of surprise and were going up against a group of drunkards)? What about Bran warging out with Hodor? So much!
—Shane
Shane,
I had completely forgot that Baelish killed Jon Arryn, as well. In fact, had we waited a few weeks, I think he would have lasted a couple more rounds in your Biggest Baddest of Game of Thrones tournament (he lost to Brienne of Tarth!). His long game is better than anyone’s, and for a small man with humble beginnings, he continues to outwit and manipulate his way into power. It’s like George R.R. Martin had a secret love for movies like The Sting or Ocean’s Eleven and found a way to embed the con genre into the fantasy epic.
The Eyrie always seemed such a strange place in the books—an impenetrable tower in the mountains with its moon door and spoiled little heir. Plus Lysa is the kind of ruler to completely unsettle those around her—distant, unreasonable and a little off her rocker. Poor Sansa, happily reunited with her aunt until Lysa maniacally accuses her of sleeping with Peter. And when she pleads her innocence, she’s rewarded with the knowledge that she’ll be marrying her petulant cousin. What a great demonstration of Robin’s self-absorption when he tosses the beautiful glass bird that Uncle Peter had given him down through the moon door—he likes to see things and people fly. Tyrion isn’t looking like such a bad husband after all.
There was little action in Slaver’s Bay this week, but I agree that it was among the most compelling scenes Daenerys has been given in a while. Her apparent motivation up until this point was to be gaining power so she could storm Westeros with a great army and claim her rightful title. Freeing slaves seemed to just be a convenient way to build that army. But the thirst for power was really her brother’s greedy dream. She may have shown little mercy last week, but her desire for justice can’t really be questioned. She’s grown, like you say, to become a queen. Cersei marvels at how long it’s been since the Iron Throne has been occupied by someone who deserved to sit upon it. King Tommen might be a good and decent boy, but if and when the Mother of Dragons returns to Westeros, there will be no doubt that she earned her seat on the throne.
Arya and the Hound continue to be the best pairing on the show. The Hound has softened towards the girl to the point that his name on her “list” looks like it stung a little. She doesn’t soften easily, even if he has been her protector. And I think there was plenty of provocation for the attempted stab with her Needle; he basically scoffed at her ability to do it. Arya isn’t one to back down from a challenge like that. She’s like Daenerys—all justice, no mercy.
The best action, though, continues to happen up north, where Bran’s capture served as the biggest deviation from the book. The storyline got back on track last night, though, after Bran decided not to make his presence known to his half-brother. I thought the Night’s Watch did okay after completely wasting the element of surprise. It’s not a surprise when you yell at the top of your lungs while running into camp. They really only lost three men besides Locke getting his head ripped off by Bran-possessed Hodor. Both Bran and Hodor look like bigger badasses themselves now too. I’m tempted to call for a re-vote. That wildling warg controlling his eagle is looking like child’s play right now. Bran can control people! That freaked-out look on Hodor’s face when he woke up was chilling. We don’t call out Kristian Nairn very often for playing a character who just repeats one line, but he was terrific last night.
So here’s a question for you. How many genres does George R.R. Martin pack into these books? Is that why it appeals to so many people who don’t normally devour fantasy series?
—Josh
Josh,
I know I sound like a broken record here, but aside from the obvious fantasy elements—dragons, white walkers, wargs—it always feels to me like Martin is writing a nonfiction historical account of a place that’s a lot like earth in the middle ages, with only superficial differences. One of the best magazine writers of all time, Gary Smith, retired this week, and he was famous for conducting 100 hours or more of interviews, with dozens of subjects, for a single story. It allowed him to write with narrative ‘omniscience,’ meaning he spoke with the voice of the people, but had done so much research that it wasn’t intrusive or false. What Martin’s doing isn’t the same, obviously—he’s writing fiction—but it feels the same. The drama is so thorough and so personal and so entertaining and so based in real human behavior that it almost feels like his stories are culled from hours and hours of interviews with the likes of Tyrion and Jon Snow and everyone else, and the interviews were a way to explain the motivations behind a history that actually happened.
So the short answer is, this doesn’t feel like genre at all to me, except for the aforementioned supernatural effects. Genre fiction usually fails to resonate with a reader unless the reader has a personal tie to the genre, and the only fiction genres that really work for me are spy, detective, and western. We’ve talked before about how I’ve tried to get into Patrick Rothfuss and Joe Abercrombie, and it just doesn’t connect with me. The reason Martin does, I think, is because he’s so smart and so detailed and so unconventional that the transcends the genre. I’m sure, as a comic book guy, there are stories that you feel the same about, that exist within the genre in a technical sense but rise above it in practice. In spy fiction, for instance, I love Frederick Forsyth’s book The Day of the Jackal, but recognize how firmly entrenched it is within the confines of the genre. Then there’s a book like John LeCarre’s The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, which I’m convinced is great literature, despite the fact that it delivers the pleasures of its genre. For westerns, Charles Portis’ True Grit is one that goes beyond the conventions (or, of course, anything by Cormac McCarthy), and detective fiction is a favorite province of writers like Pynchon and Chabon and Poe and etc. etc. Anyway, that’s how I feel about Martin—you’ll find his books in the fantasy section of your bookstore, but in a practical sense it’s much tougher to qualify him that way.
Back to the TV show, one thing I find interesting is how little we’ve seen of Lord Varys this season. Last night he appeared for a brief bow to King Tommen, and in episode two he made a quick stop to tip off Tyrion that Shae’s discovery was imminent, but otherwise he’s been conspicuously absent. What’s he up to, Josh??? Is Littlefinger so thoroughly trouncing him in the game of thrones that he’s been rendered obsolete? I doubt it; he’s not someone to stay idle. But I miss him! I miss his simpering little grins and his penchant for careful plotting and extreme vengeance. Come back, eunuch! Come back, spider!
Can we talk quickly about good Isaac Hempstead-Wright has been as Bran Stark? He was always solid, but you never really know how a child actor will develop as he or she gets older, and I think IHW has really been terrific. It’s also nice to see a Stark capable of making something other than the obvious choice for once, and using a deeper part of the brain than the one that screams “JUSTICE!” and results in death. Jon Snow has a bit of that in him, though it was forced by his necessary killing of Qhorin Halfhand, an act that was so profound that even he couldn’t fail to begin spotting gray area everywhere. Ned didn’t have it, Robb didn’t have it, Catelyn didn’t have it, and Arya doesn’t have it. Arya, in fact, seems to be a character that’s totally lost in her anger, and you wonder if there’s any way back after all she’s seen. But Bran, possibly because of his strange powers, sees truth with a bit more depth, and Hempstead-Wright has evolved into an actor worthy of that nuance.
I’ll flip it back your way for some final thoughts. Now that we’re halfway through season four, are you pleased? How does this compare to other seasons, so far?
—Shane
Shane,
I completely agree on the way Martin has transcended the fantasy genre or genre fiction in general. What he’s really done is redefine the epic. The way he’s woven these different plot lines together makes me think his writing room must look the string-webbed lair of the most obsessive conspiracy theorist. And the way its been adapted to television has pulled just the right threads so as not to lose too much in translation. Someone recently asked me what my favorite current TV show is, and with Walter White fading into memory and True Detective starting from scratch, I have to say that Game of Thrones is what I most look forward to right now.
And yes, that’s thanks in part to great acting. How many brilliant performances have we seen from GoT kids so far? There’s of course all the Stark kids—the spunk of Maisie Williams (my favorite) as Arya; Sophie Turner’s shift from Sansa’s shallow entitlement to depths of sorrow; and Isaac Hempstead-Wright coming into his own as he’s given more to do. We’ve talked before about Jack Gleeson’s talent, making us love to hate King Joffrey. And props were also due last night to Lino Facioli, who keeps Robin Arryn untethered to the world, in a permanent fog. He’s a different kind of little monster with his earlier delighted shouts of “make the little man fly!” And he looks as though he’s never seen the sun.
So how does Season 4 compare? Like the books, I don’t really have a favorite season. It’s all of a piece. There’s never even the slightest hint of a lull. It’s continually as plot-rich as it is character-rich. If things are relatively slow in Essos, you don’t have to wait long to see what’s going on North of the Wall. If Tyrion is your favorite character, you’ll still hardly notice him missing from an episode that has Varys or Baelish filling the scheming void. If you can’t wait for the chemistry between Arya and the Hound, there will undoubtedly be three other pairings whose repartee will feel like Arya’s water dancing. The show has been on a roll since that first ranger patrol came across that first White Walker in Episode 1. Like the books, the show has transcended genre TV. It’s just Great Television.
So please don’t die, George R.R. Martin,
—Josh
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