Thursday 7 September 2017

Game of Thrones episode review: "The Dragon and the Wolf"

Image from IMDb.

THROND'S CHOICE
dir. by Jeremy Podeswa
writ. by David Benioff and D.B. Weiss
The new blockbuster iteration of Game of Thrones is maybe the most popular the show has ever been. It's hardly surprising: newbies and longtime viewers alike can revel in all the fan service, and all the superficial crowd-pleasing has made it an easier watch than ever. It fills the fantasy niche and offers a level of spectacle which you rarely get outside of a movie theatre. All the things which have made it less distinctive and less sophisticated also make it more accessible, so of course it's only ever gotten more and more popular. 

And you know what? It's not so bad. A quickened pace, some great special effects, and what's now seven years worth of character development make for a show which is no longer great art, but is still a lot of fun. Season 7's finale, "The Dragon and the Wolf," slows the pace down, and while it still rushes some crucial moments, it also has several of the season's best scenes, and clarifies the show's intriguing thematic conflict. It took me a while to be convinced, but this new Game of Thrones is alright. 
The episode begins as Danerys's forces arrive at King's Landing. The Hound is holding the captured White Walker in a wooden crate, and Dany's whole army is assembled outside, part of it marching behind her and Jon as they rendezvous with Cersei. They meet Bronn along the way, himself followed by soldiers, and he then leads them to their audience with the queen. At this point, we can see the show once again doubling down on reunions: Tyrion is reunited with Podrick and Bronn, and the Hound is reunited with Brienne. As always, it's low-effort screenwriting, but also as always, the show has earned these easy points with its longstanding character relationships. As hard as it can be to remember half the show's cast, the lines shared between the reuniting characters have the intended humour and pathos, in part because we remember when these characters were last together, but also because of how much has changed since then.

Indeed, "change" is the main theme of this season. Change comes with Danerys landing in Westeros to liberate her homeland and reclaim her birthright. Change comes with Jon Snow declaring the North independent, and then later kneeling to the latest would-be usurper. And, perhaps most significantly, change comes with the White Walkers, who threaten the whole world once again - and are growing stronger. As always, the most memorable image in "The Dragon and the Wolf" comes at the end, when Viserion - the dragon whom the Night King resurrected in the previous episode - spews a jet of freezing ice into the Wall, destroying it. 

Despite some foreshadowing in earlier episodes, the Wall's destruction still comes as a shock. The Wall had lasted since the times of the First Men, and everyone in Westeros had believed it would last forever. For the show Game of Thrones, this means two things. On one hand, it's a major change to the status quo, and an excuse for season 7 speeding up the clock. Who has time for all of the torture and politics of early seasons when there's a bigger threat up north? But it also works as a source of tension, both in-universe and out. For viewers, it returns some unpredictability into a show which has lost some of its edge; we don't know when the Walkers will arrive at any location, how many there will be when they get there, or even what they'll be capable of. 

But for the characters, the people who have to live with this existential threat marching inexorably towards them, it provides a dilemma. For Jon and Dany, this threat is something which must be fought by everyone. For better and for worse, both are caught up in their own sense of righteousness, and take on the concerns of the whole world. While the narrative conventions of high fantasy tell us this is the "right" path, the show has also added a downside to both Dany and Jon's nobility. For Dany, it's her mercilessness, which has been showcased time and time again throughout the season; there is little she will stop at to enact her ideals. 

For Jon, that downside is stubbornness, and we get his crowning failure of stubborn nobility when Cersei provides her truce conditions. Once she is shown the White Walker, she quickly accepts that she needs to work with Jon and Dany to defeat the Night King, but only on one condition: Jon must declare neutrality, staying out of southern affairs. She counts on Jon's nobility and honour to lead him to accept, but unfortunately, he has already pledged to Danerys, Jon puts his own plans in jeopardy simply because he can't lie and denounce his vows, because he cares too much about the power of words to reject them in favour of the greater good. It's a nice sentiment, but he still fucked up. 

And that makes Cersei's selfishness more interesting. While she agrees to aid Dany and Jon in public, privately she declares that she has no intention of putting her soldiers up north. Rather, this news has only increased her desire to defend her family - specifically, her unborn child - at any cost, and although she's become colder and even more villainous over the course of the past few seasons, that motherly love remains her one humanizing quality, the one thing which makes her sympathetic even in spite of all the horrible things she's done. If Jon and Dany are following typical fantasy tropes, Cersei is following the tropes of zombie movies: board up your home, protect those close to you, and trust nobody.

After Jon's blunder, Tyrion attempts to change her mind, and here we finally get to see how much the effects of the past few seasons have broken her. She blames Tyrion for Tommen and Myrcella's deaths, saying that the power void created by Tyrion killing Tywin led factions like the Sand Snakes and the Sparrows to come in and exploit the Lannister children's weakness, ultimately leading to their deaths. There's a degree of hypocrisy to this, given that neither death would have happened were it not for Cersei's own actions, but at the same time it's evident just how much pain she's been through and how much pain she's still feeling. That's what makes Game of Thrones such a great show: even the most despicable characters have their sympathetic moments.

Of course, there's also a lot of catharsis on the other side, as Tyrion unloads all of this pent-up resentment and anguish over how Cersei has mistreated and tried to kill him. Having seen Tyrion increasingly suffer at his family's hand for five seasons, we know exactly how bad he's had it, and Peter Dinklage imbues every syllable of Tyrion's well-earned rant with passion and frustration. The entire scene is a dramatic highlight of the season, and perhaps the greatest example of how these characters' history with each other lends dramatic weight to even the most basic and expected of interactions. In a sense, it's another bit of fanservice in a season laden with it, but it's imbued with such nuance as to transcend that label.

Which is hardly to say that "The Dragon and the Wolf" is without more straightforward moments of pandering. On top of the aforementioned reunions, we also get to see the Hound and the Mountain coming face to face for the first time in forever, and there's plenty of flashy shots of the Unsullied and Dothraki army, Danerys riding a dragon, and the captured White Walker who was brought to King's Landing. The Clegane confrontation is little more than foreshadowing for next season, but the various hints of spectacle all serve a purpose. Danerys is making an effort to look impressive in an attempt to intimidate Cersei, but instead the Lannister queen noticed Viserion's absence. Ironically, despite all the flashy CGI, the narrative purpose of this posturing is not to impress.

The weak link of this finale is still the Winterfell storyline, which at first seems to be continuing the tiresome Stark sister quarrelling of the previous episode but then throws in an unexpected twist. These scenes open with Sansa again talking to Littlefinger, a man she claims not to trust, and telling him she fears Arya wants to assassinate her. After all, Arya would be next in line for Lady of Winterfell. It's all pretty hard to care about, and Sansa's accusations seem just as petty and misguided as Arya's earlier.

But that's the point. Later, Sansa puts Arya on trial for murdering House Frey, but out of nowhere tosses all the charges onto Littlefinger instead, sentencing him for his actions against House Arryn. He's given the death sentence, which Arya is happy to oblige. Although he certainly had this coming for a long time, the show's buildup to this twist was so subtle as to be barely noticeable, and it doesn't justify the misdirection in last week's episode. Littlefinger's death is the most straightforward crowd-pleasing moment of the finale, and it would be no less satisfying without the boring tension between the Stark sisters. At least Bran gets to be useful, as his new clairvoyance allows him to testify about Littlefinger's crimes.

Nonetheless, the sequences in Winterfell do have some lovely shots, and once they finally make up, what was interesting about Sansa and Arya's new dynamic returns. Both have been hardened by their experiences, and nowhere is that more apparent than the trial scene, where Sansa coldly reads off Littlefinger's crimes while Arya watches, grinning. In a later scene, they open up to each other, but like earlier in the season, they're slightly awkward in their interactions. They're not the same people they knew each other as, and just as Sansa was astonished by how much has happened to Arya since they were separated, Arya expresses that she can't imagine surviving what Sansa went through. As is often the case, the most effective scenes in Game of Thrones aren't the big events, but the quiet moments which come afterwards.

Theon, on the other hand, has some hackish yet effective scenes. In one, he expresses jealousy of Jon Snow and questions whether he's more Stark or Greyjoy, to which Jon mawkishly responds that he's both. That sort of unironic sentimentality is characteristic of how far season 7 has drifted from the show's original appeal, and the change it induces in Theon is just as rushed as Littlefinger's death. A later scene has Theon attempt to gain his people's respect, which he does by repeatedly getting up after one of them attacks him. Like his previous scene, this is pretty cheesy, but I'm not above emotional pandering even if I can see the strings. Plus, he punches a dude's face in, so it's not all bad.

Finally, Sam and Bran meet, and tell each other stuff we already know. A Three-Eyed Raven flashback shows us Rhaegar and Lyanna's marriage, but the only purpose this serves is to tell us that Jon's birth name is apparently Aegon. It's a largely unnecessary scene, but while the two are expositing at each other, the episode also cuts to Jon and Dany having sex. Their relationship this season has been one of the show's most conventional to date, and it's clearly pandering to shippers, but juxtaposing this sex scene with Jon's true identity reminds us that it's also incest, which puts a sour twist on the whole thing. As much as things are changing in Westeros, some things will always remain the same.

And that's Game of Thrones season 7. This show has lost a lot of its great television credentials in favour of fan service and blockbuster thrills, but the hastened pace of this season also contributes to it being perhaps the most conventionally fun the show's ever been. There's still decent character moments to be found, especially with Cersei. Pacing and logical issues abound, the increasingly dark cinematography has made the show impossible to watch in a brighter room, and the show's subversive streak has all but vanished. But fuck it. This is entertaining.

8/10

Game of Thrones, season 7
+ Plenty of satisfying character moments.
+ Spectacular visuals and set pieces.
+ More typically "fun" than earlier seasons.
- Somewhat illogical narrative in back half.
- Rushed pacing in parts.
- Relies a lot on fan pandering.

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Todd Throndson

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