Game Of Thrones (Season Eight)

WARNING: CONTAINS SPOILERS

Towards the end of the final episode of Game Of Thrones, there’s a moment where Drogon, after a very long shot of his dragon-face where we are supposed to be able to intuit his emotions and thoughts based on nothing more than looking at him, breathes blisteringly hot fire all over the Iron Throne (instead of over Jon Snow, even though he has just stabbed Daenerys while snogging her).  In a short space of time, something as iconic as that seat is transformed from a unique, imaginative, well crafted, revered and original piece of artistry to a hot steaming pile of molten mess.  I don’t know if the producers intended this, but it’s the perfect summation of where season eight fits in with the other series in the Game Of Thrones canon.  It’s still some of the best television ever, but it’s a poor imitation of what has come before it.

Let’s be realistic, though, the final series was never going to please anyone.  Hardcore fans, no matter the ending, were always going to struggle with exactly that: they didn’t want it to end.  In season four, it looked like the storylines could never be resolved, yet season eight dispatches conclusion after conclusion with the nonchalance of a housecat knocking ornaments off a windowsill.  After the peak of season six , and the exceptional contribution of season seven, it really hurts.  Season eight took a long time coming, breaking from the annual cycle of its predecessors only to premiere when it was good and ready.  Again, we didn’t have ten outings to look forward to: there were just six episodes.  But each was nearly feature length.  More budget would equal more entertainment, surely.  But no, Game Of Thrones lost its beauty of being the best use of TV as a format ever, and instead felt like a themed hexalogy of straight-to-TV movies.  At the time, despite needing to witness the biggest event to occur in television broadcasting, I found myself ill-prepared in a non-Sky household.  Each Monday night I would need to voyage across London to different friends’ front rooms to make sure I didn’t risk going into the office the next day without being completely up to date on the latest, until settling on a particular friend whose location, set up and hospitality suited the best.  He’d never even watched the programme but indulged me drawn curtains and complete silence for each subsequent instalment.  I was enraptured to find out how it would all end, and therefore in no frame of mind to give it any serious analytical thought.  But, re-watching this final series for the first time in order to write this blog, I found myself slowing down in my ability to sit through back-to-back Game Of Thrones.  I must have seen season one five times now, yet this second sitting of the eighth series proceeded slowly, losing out to The Walking Dead’s epic tenth season, some Broad City and the last season of Bojack Horseman.

So, what’s not to like about it?  The first thing is that it all feels very rushed.  What unfolds in each episode would have filled a season by earlier standards.  Things could have been drawn right out and nobody would have minded.  Sure, it’s good pacing to build momentum to a final climax, but the characters’ behaviour becomes surprisingly erratic, squandering hours’ worth of foreshadowing with contrived moves that prevent any delay to finishing the stories.  I’ll refer us to two other sources here who go into more detail about the two greatest flaws in season eight.  The first video here from Screen Rant cleverly labours the fact we have no explanation for this rush.  When such clever quality has come before, it seems inexplicable that this would suddenly run out.  The second is an article here on the blog of the Scientific American which attributes our disappointment to a change in the storytelling itself.  Before, Game Of Thrones’ storytelling was sociological: we could clearly see that the actions of Cersei or Daenerys, while violent, were informed by external factors such as their upbringing, the prevalent culture, the environment, belief systems etc.  Sociological storytelling is rarer because it is harder to do quickly, though it often solicits great acclaim, such as our reception to The Wire.  Hollywood favours psychological storytelling, with people doing things because of how they think and feel internally.  Somehow, this pollutant gets into the bloodstream of season eight and makes everything stricken and uncomfortable.  Tyrion, Arya, Jon Snow, Daenerys and even Drogon have to emote at the camera for longer than usual, pulling faces to convey inner turmoil whereas before their actions and words in response to other factors would have clearly shown and justified these moves.  It’s cheap and lazy and less than Game Of Thrones fans deserved.

The internet is already awash with this sort of opinion, so there’s little more to add, but the geek in me finds closure in being able to pinpoint what should have been done differently.  It’s still epically ambitious telly.  The first half of the season builds to and culminates in the final battle against the Night King.  The sense of impending doom and hopeless odds is maintained well throughout, peppered with longed-for reunions among key characters, netting these three episodes higher IMDB ratings and the final instalments (though still much lower than all the episodes before).  It’s no surprise that the Night King comes at night, but I’ll again have to show a lack of originality and join the ranks of those that cursed the battle in The Long Night for being too dark.  I adjusted my screen settings three times while watching it and still had no confidence that I was seeing things properly.  It was only afterwards I realised that I should probably have googled for advice on what settings to apply on a 55” LG OLED, but maybe someone at Thrones HQ could have watched the ep back and realised it was overly concealed by its own shadows.  Nevertheless, it’s still a thrill-fest from start to finish.  We gasp as some of our faves are dispatched (Edd, Berric, Lyanna Mormont, Jorah Mormont, Theon) and cheer when Arya finally ends the whole thing with one stab of the pointy end.  It’s hard to believe it’s over.  Just like that, a problem like the Night King is solved and we’re into the second act, off to King’s Landing to deal with that naughty Cersei.

But it all starts to go wrong again for our Daenerys, with Missandei coming so close to surviving the whole thing and another dragon getting offed.  She’s understandably miffed.  Cue The Bells, the televisual equivalent of the world’s biggest wank as we’re forced to watch King’s Landing get incinerated by a vengeance-mad Targaryen atop a dragon.  Street after street is flooded with fire, burning alive men, women and children, most of whom end up exposed after tripping over Arya while she staggers about for no reason.  She’d be chewing the scenery if there were any left.  Yes, we’re meant to believe that actually Daenerys has been bonkers all along.  Look at her face, yeah, that’s how you know.  She mad.  Oh, she mad.  We lose sympathy for her quickly.  Gone is the Thronesian trope of making us root for morally compromised characters.  We’re now being told clearly who’s a baddie and who’s a goodie.  Peter Dinklage has to act his absolute socks off to bring anything good to the whole sorry affair and Tyrion’s remorse and disappointment are bitterly palpable.  But is he cross about the burning, or just furious to be involved professionally in the whole affair?

Among the burning, you can spot further Hollywood hacks woven into our previously precious story-telling.  I give you: two leading men having fisticuffs.  This ideally takes place amid jeopardy (for example, a collapsing Red Keep).  It’s a pet hate of mine in films and explains my lack of interest in superheroes.  No matter what has come before, the final stakes are decided by enemies punching each other.  It’s just not interesting as the good one has to win eventually.  As King’s Landing gets roasted, Jaime takes on Euron in a dirty beach brawl for the right to get side eye from Cersei.  Upstairs, the Clegane brothers finally have at each other because, by the way, Sandor is much angrier about Gregor burning his face when he was a child than we have realised at any point up till now.  The Hound’s fight with Brienne in season four was elevated above this nonsense by all the genuine baggage each character brought to every bone-crunching punch, but the elaborately choreographed set pieces that play out here leave me so cold I’m surprised they didn’t put out the dragon’s fires.

I’m feeling guilty about trolling this all so much, but I’m not even done.  After so much post-massacre faff (and me wondering where that massive Targaryen banner came from and how any Dothraki have survived this far at all) I almost felt like I would stab Daenerys to death if Jon didn’t hurry up and do it.  There was no guessing, no surprising.  It was coming a mile off, only it was limping and had a leg off.  For this act, Jon Snow, our hero, is banished back to the Night’s Watch.  Now this does get a strong reaction, as it seems like unjust punishment.  But his final shots show him ranging beyond the wall with Wildling kin and we realise he’s now about as done with Westeros as we are.  Everyone decides Bran should be king (he’s not arsed), despite a brief moment of considering parliamentary democracy (LOL), while Sansa at last achieves secession for the North from the other six kingdoms.  Arya is teed up for her spin off, The Amazing Adventures Of Arya Stark, by sailing off the edge of the map, and, with that, we’ve said goodbye to each of the surviving Stark children.

Don’t get me wrong, this is all still an amazing achievement in television.  No show has ever got so big before that its final season could only be delivered through feature-length episodes.  The cinematic ambition is never lost.  Our eyes can still feast on a richly imagined world.  Every shot, every set piece, every scene is carefully executed.  The end of Game Of Thrones is triumphant by anyone’s standards.  But this dazzling doesn’t distract from a damaging lane change.  By dialling down the storytelling craft and hurrying to get things over with, any fan can’t help but feel jarred.  There’s short change in this final visit to Westeros, simply because the standards set before were so high.  Leaving us on an IMDB rating of 4.1, despite reaching 9.9 more than a handful of times, Game Of Thrones is best remembered for its other seasons.  Just pretend it never ended.

Best newcomer

Even as the population of existing characters dwindles, we’re not given anyone new that’s significant enough to mention here.  Instead, I just want to question who the extra ones are back in the dragon pit when the fate of Westeros is decided.  They get to say “aye” I suppose.

Most valuable character

While Arya does indeed save all mankind from death, it’s Jon Snow that ultimately gets left with all the hard jobs.  Galvanising everyone to fight the dead when nobody believes him is one thing, but then having to be the one that kills his own aunt (that he’s in love with) to eliminate her from ruling, and then being punished for it with banishment, all while being the rightful heir, just shows what a stoic martyr he is.

Best death

It’s poor Lord Varys that sticks in my mind here.  Conleth Hill provides consistently understated performances in every season, but he even manages to bring nuance to Varys’s dawning realisation that the queen he’s risked everything for isn’t going to live up to his expectations and be the best choice for the realm.  This is despite the looky-looky nature of the season eight dumbshow that guides us through what is happening with sheer obviousness.  Scheming (for good) till the end, he is led finally to be fried with a final dracarys and we can only be glad that he outlive arch-rival Littlefinger.  Second place: Qyburn getting his head smashed in by the Mountain.  Splat.

Jaw-dropper moment

You can’t get much more Thronesian than a flaming sword, so when Melisandre ignites the blades of Daenerys’ Dothraki hordes as the Night King approaches Winterfell we marvel at this cinematic sequence, if only because it provides some much-needed illumination to proceedings.  What follows is the slow extinguishing of every last flame as Daenerys’s loyal soldiers ride into the fray.  We’re in for a long night.

Game Of Thrones (Season Seven)

WARNING: CONTAINS SPOILERS

Seven Hells!  Suddenly there were only seven episodes in this seventh season of Game Of Thrones.  Sure, they were mostly longer than usual, but the overall effect of fewer, bigger instalments compared to the normal format was that there was a lack of the complication in which all other series have revelled.  Thrones’ beauty is often in its complexity, and its fierce refusal ever to compromise on this: no detail is dumbed down to promote accessibility.  In 2017, international expectations for the series were unprecedented, so it was unlikely any nascent viewers would require catering for.  This was for the fans, and by this point, there were millions of fans worldwide.  The web woven round Westeros by season six was indeed as intricate as any ensemble story-lining ever attempted.  Sixty hours of background meant that every encounter and re-encounter between characters was drenched in an excess of history.  Should this season, then, have continued to mine that deep vein, painstakingly inching things along?  Perhaps, but, instead, season seven ramps things up in a way we have never seen before.

Nevertheless, progress requires departure from the way things were done before.  In that sense, this series overhauled the old approach to big set pieces: building up to the most explosive action for an episode nine free for all (like the Battle Of The Bastards in season six).  Instead, breath-taking sequences were peppered throughout, a lavish garnish of production budget, particularly when compared to earlier seasons’ clever navigation of not being able to afford a thousand Wildlings to sweep the battlefield.  Whether it’s the Lannister forces facing a dragon attack while absconding with Tyrell gold from the Reach, or the Unsullied taking Casterly Rock, in both an imagined and a real sequence, we are spoiled in the eyeballs for untold extras in expensive costumes running generally amok.  The show is elevating itself from the biggest boxset of all time to a sequence of Hollywood blockbuster films.  This is a stroke of luck for the action fans, but the beginning of the end for what has up to now been exceptional storytelling.

Amid all this destruction, though, we begin to tally up how many prestigious families have been totally wiped out.  The Targaryens have been over since before season one, but the Tyrells get done, the Greyjoys are nearly over, the Martells mostly stabbed and the Starks are only just emerging from complete annihilation.  This leads us to one of the best threads of the whole season: the Starks getting their groove back.  We’re treated not only to Bran finally returning to Winterfell, but Arya also finally comes home after the longest time a child has ever gone out to play for without telling her parents where she is going.  Of course, Jon pops off to Dragonstone (more on this later), so it’s almost a one in, one out policy, but our hearts soar as Sansa gradually reassembles her surviving siblings around her.  Bran, however, isn’t that arsed.  He stares blankly ahead, telling people he’s the Three-Eyed Raven as if this is a Westerosi equivalent of declaring “no offence, but” before saying something awful.  He is immobile as his sisters hug him.  You start to wonder if he’s the first case of late-onset Asperger’s in the Seven Kingdom.

Nevertheless, once he has cruelly dismissed the wonderful Meera after totally mugging her off for all her help, he observes as tension seems to fester between his two sisters.  There follows the most delicious intrigue as it seems Petyr Baelish is successfully playing the Stark girls off against each other.  We’ve come so far, yet it all seems poised to fall apart.  That is, until a scene in the hall at Winterfell when Arya is brought before her sister, apparently to answer for her crimes.  The moment Sansa artfully directs proceedings to accuse Littlefinger instead of her sibling, and his subsequent oilier-than-ever squirming to get out of the situation at any cost, constitutes a huge story arc pay-off that has been built series on series before finally rewarding us as fans.

The other big reunion is the assembly of Westeros’s biggest lads for a bit of a stag weekend north of the Wall.  Berric Dondarrion, Thoros of Myr and the Hound team up with Jon Snow and pals to range into the snows to find and capture a soldier from the Night King’s army for the sole purpose of some show and tell with Cersei in order to encourage her to support them in the coming war against the dead.  Even Gendry (not seen since season three) gets to come along for a bit.  I’ve spoken before about my issue with people not wearing hats in the snow, but these lot face blizzards and zombie polar bears with loose locks blowing irresponsibly in the breeze.  That said, the whole of Beyond The Wall is one of my favourite episodes, but their recklessness extends beyond anything we could ever have imagined.  In the end, it costs a whole dragon to get a dead man in front of Cersei.  The same dragon ends up resurrected on the side of the baddies (melting the Wall in a climactic finale), while Cersei has no intention of supporting her fellow living beings.  Maybe Daenerys could have popped up there on the dragon in the first place, preventing such a big fail, but I suppose that wouldn’t have led to such exciting action.

So let’s talk about Dragonstone.  Formerly Stannis’s gaff, before Brienne offed him in season five, Daenerys moves in to a castle that seems to have been done up in the meantime.  This may be down to more daytime scenes this time around, and fewer occasions of burning relatives alive on the beach to appease the Lord Of Light, but I can’t believe they didn’t throw out the tacky old Westeros map table, or at least put some windows in that room what with all the stormy weather.  Either way, much is made of the walkway between the castle and the beach, so some location scout must be very pleased with their find featuring so heavily.  It provides plenty of vistas for Jon Snow to brood over, not to mention serving as the perfect platform for intimidating dragon flyovers.

One corner of Westeros that gets plenty of attention this time around is Oldtown, with the workings of the Citadel expanded on further through the eyes of Samwell Tarly.  For a graduate trainee, his immediate appointment to personal assistant of the Archmaester seems a bit suspect, but it at least brings into our lives the wonderful addition of Jim Broadbent’s performance.  Even with the rest of the cast’s incredible strength in their roles, it’s always smashing when another household name joins in on the fun.  Even if that fun is ignoring Samwell’s pleading to deal with the Night King or refusing to have Jorah Mormont’s greyscale treated, focusing instead on having Jon’s pal empty endless overflowing bedpans.  All being said, this element fits in seamlessly to the rest of our stories’ richness, exemplifying the fact that Game Of Thrones is now operating completely in its own universe.  While viewers can revel in the bolder action, our sense of the coming end makes inevitable our resistance to things resolving.  Just as all men must die, all good things must come to an end, and Game Of Thrones, even when not at its peak, is one of the best.

Best newcomer

This was easier back in season two when new characters popped up all the time.  This penultimate season proves to be less of an opportunity for great new faces, so I’m going to cheat and bring in someone who actually debuted in series six.  Euron Greyjoy still counts as a bit new, doesn’t he?  Either way, his goading of Jaime Lannister creates a great chance to dish out shade-throwing lines about Cersei liking a “finger up the bum” while we can also credit him with superb enunciation of the word twat.

Most valuable character

While this series is dominated by Queen Cersei’s resurgence, it’s the Night King who’s the best monarch.  Undying loyalty from his subjects?  Check – they’re already dead.  A crown that can’t be taken off?  Check – it’s quite literally growing out of his skull.  A great throwing arm?  Check – he can take out an airborne dragon with just a quick toss of one his spears.  He gets extra marks for consistency too, quietly offering an underlying, simmering tension to everything else that has unfolded, we’re now poised for his time to shine and he couldn’t be more ready.

Best death

Despite Tyrion’s protests, Daenerys incinerates two generations of the Tarlys after taking both Dickon (not Rickon) and Randyll prisoner.  Unwilling to swear loyalty, their obstinacy leads to a great dracarys moment, and we all know that Samwell probably isn’t arsed.

Jaw-dropper moment

I’ll finish with another discussion about bollocks.  Our Theon finally finds an advantage to forced castration when a disobedient Iron Islander refuses to follow his leader on a mission to rescue Yara from Euron following the epic sea battle that turns the tide against Daenerys.  Theon gets the salt kicked out of him, but it’s not until he’s able to withstand several huge blows to the crotch unaffected that the tables turn and the rascal takes another step to redemption.

Game Of Thrones (Season Four)

WARNING: CONTAINS SPOILERS

The fourth season is the first series of Game Of Thrones I remember being covered in the media.  This dragon-based fare was no longer the niche preserve of its traditional audience; it had broken out into the mainstream.  Coverage talked of the arrival of Pedro Pascal (from Narcos) and Indira Varma (from Luther) as key Dornishmen and women, bringing another of the Seven Kingdoms’ countrymen into our theatre of action.  With the Red Wedding a distant memory, and its celebratory murders extinguishing a whole dynasty of characters (Catelyn, Robb, Talisa), series four is marked by new pairings for key players as they embark on new journeys, while established groups take on further complications that, together, leave the impression of a universe expanding following a big bang and drifting further and further away from ever being resolved in the near future.  As a viewer, this was one of the most thrilling and compelling parts of Game Of Thrones’ appeal: we could see ourselves treated to endless high-quality, imagination-rich, boob-and-nudity-riddled ultraviolent content.

Everything pivots on the second episode’s notorious poisoning of King Joffrey.  As ever, a reminder, if ever we needed one, that nobody is safe, but it is gratifying to watch him asphyxiate in his mother’s arms after so cruelly tormenting every single guest at his nuptials.  This in turns fits the Thronesian wedding trend of every ceremony being marred by a death (the Dothraki will be impressed).  While this assassination robs us of Jack Gleeson’s delightfully camp yet sinisterly threatening performance, it sets into motion the intrigue and scheming required to replace the entire thrust of our storyline around the Young Wolf.  Tyrion ends up accused of killing his nephew and threatened with execution instead of being given the firm handshake we surely owe anyone who delivers the little bastard his comeuppance.  This allows Peter Dinklage to deliver more of his outstanding acting rage, moving on from irreverence and intoxication, building instead on his sensitive treatment of new (and unwilling) wife Sansa.  Persecuted by his entire family and, in fact, the entire realm, at his farcical trial, it’s his betrayal by Shae (whom I never liked) that leads him to deliver one of his most memorable soliloquys, admitting guilt to his only real crime in their eyes: being a dwarf.  The series’ rip-roaring finale sees us cheering our Tyrion along as he strangles Shae with Lannister gold (how ironic) and crossbows down his own dad and veteran actor Charles Dance while he passes his nightsoil.  Tyrion is then spirited from Westeros in a dual act of derring-do by dream team Varys and Jaime.

The devil, though, is in the detail.  The main culprits in the poisoning passed me by on my first viewing, but now I have enjoyed the episodes several times, I am able to pick out more foreshadowing, bigger clues and a great deal of stark obviousness that I had previously failed to detect.  Beating her husband to an escape from King’s Landing, Sansa’s flight takes place in the chaos that immediately follows.  Again, I defy anyone not to scream along at her progress as she dashes through the capital’s alleyways, placing blind trust in the ill-fated Ser Dontos Hollard, only to be delivered into the little hands of Littlefinger.  She manages to see out the series at the Eyrie, but we all know that the abuse coming for her in the fifth season will compound her vile treatment throughout seasons one, two and three.

Meanwhile, a lot more of the action unfolds beyond the borders of the Seven Kingdoms.  Daenerys is taking over Meereen and freeing slaves, building her retinue of core supporters but sadly ending the bristling tension between Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Jorah Mormont after she discovers the previous duplicity of the latter (much to the former’s glee).  Bran, who helps us track the passing of time by monitoring his transformation at the onset of puberty, has made it beyond the wall, but comes a cropper at Craster’s Keep, bringing about another near miss as Jon Snow arrives on the scene to sort out the Night’s Watch mutineers filling their boots with Craster’s ale, food and wives.  I’ll admit to struggling to work out what Locke is doing on this mission, having seemingly taken the black.  I wondered if he was being punished for chopping off Jaime’s good hand, but no, he is on another Bolton baddie posting, tracking down Brandon Stark but meeting a well-deserved bloody end in the process.

But this series belongs to Jon Snow.  Mostly.  Sure, we have more of Ramsay torturing and mutilating Theon, to such an extent he refuses Yara’s rescue attempt, Brienne ends up in an odd couple with Podrick, and Arya and The Hound prove it’s not so easy to get along when you both want to kill each other.  But Jon just does everything right, no matter the cost.  Having betrayed his new Wildling pals, ending up both scratched in the face by an eagle and shot with arrows by crazy ex-girlfriend Ygritte, he must face discipline back at Castle Black.  Maester Aemon, ever the voice of reason, manages to mitigate his fate, but Snow’s enemies are clearly biding their time, despite him outperforming them in every element of night-watching.  This crescendos into our most ambitious episode to date: The Watchers On The Wall.  Yes, it’s another battle, but we’re allowed to see a lot more of the action, as there are a lot more actors in the budget.  Even giants.  Surrounded on both sides of the Wall, the Night’s Watch must survive the, er, night in what turns out later to be a giant waste of time (and a timely waste of giants).  The Wildlings aren’t the enemy; they turn out to be the refugees.  Sadly, we don’t realise this till Ygritte, Pyp and Grenn are killed.  Nevertheless, it presents a great chance to Stannis to do something right for once, but we’ll save that for next week…

Best newcomer

We finally meet the Three-Eyed Raven.  In this series, though, he is no great shakes, lounging inert in a musty room as you would expect any OAP to on a visit to the old folks’ home.  But it’s what he represents that’s so significant.  This is why Bran has journeyed so far.  Or should I say, why Bran has made Hodor carry him so far, while Meera sorts the food and protects them and Jojen trains him in clairvoyance before getting stabbed in the heart repeatedly by an animated skeleton.  Team Bran’s narrow survival of the dead army awaiting them at their final destination goes to show that season four’s epic drama does not run out at episode nine.  What is more, we are at last treated to seeing a Child Of The Forest…

Most valuable character

Olenna Tyrell takes all the best lines and steals every scene.  But she more than rises to the challenge of protecting granddaughter Margaery while fuelling and abetting her ambition.  Her lack of remorse for poisoning Joffrey before he ever gets the chance to be her grandson-in-law is truly delicious.

Best death

The Moon Door has always freaked me out, thanks to my terrible fear of heights.  I always worry I will go momentarily mad and jump off tall buildings, so I can never go near the edge of things.  In a climactic tussle, envious Lysa Arryn accuses Sansa of stealing away her new husband and we are on the edge of our seats at the fear of losing our ginger heroine over the edge of the Moon Door.  Demonstrating cold-hearted calculation, Baelish embraces his insecure lover to reassure her, before shoving her and sending her tumbling to her death screaming like a mad woman.  As if we didn’t already know: never trust Petyr!

Jaw-dropper moment

Tyrion’s trial by combat lives on in infamy.  The Mountain looks all but defeated, much to the displeasure of Tywin and Cersei, but he somehow manages to crush Prince Oberyn’s skull with his bare hands.  All our retinas end up with the image of the poor Dornishman’s squashed head burned into them, proving that nobody can take on the Lannisters and win.

Game Of Thrones (Season Three)

WARNING: CONTAINS SPOILERS

Well, I’m having a lovely time reliving Westeros’s greatest hits – not sure about the rest of you.  We’re onto series number three of this boxset to end all boxsets and, even though I think it’s my fourth time watching it all the way through, it’s still proving to be TV entertainment of the highest quality.  The toppest notch.  If you’ve not kept up, we’ve already done seasons one and two here and here (respectively), so I’ve covered everything that’s brought us to this point, as well as justifying two deviations from the usual mythology of Just One More Episode: openly discussing spoilers and splitting a programme into its constituent seasons.  But where was I?  That’s it: telling you all how happy I am with my choice to re-watch Game Of Thrones.  I can’t go wrong.  Each evening after work, there’s time for one or two instalments of this absolute favourite, before switching at 9.15 to that night’s episode of Love Island (ads fast forwarded, of course).  All going well, I’m in bed for 10pm and ready for the next day’s routine of gym, work, boxsets.  As an adult in London, it’s great to know I’m making the most of the culture the capital has to offer.

Let’s see what our pals in the Seven Kingdoms have been up to then.  Like the second series, these ten episodes continue the downward trajectory into darkness.  King (in the North) Robb’s war takes a number of ominous turns, culminating horribly in his appalling demise at his uncle’s wedding in The Rains Of Castamere.  Yes, let’s get the Red Wedding out of the way then.  This ninth episode (with a 9.9 rating on IMDB) provides a harsh reminder that every character’s days are numbered.  Losing Khal Drogo and Ned Stark in the first series wasn’t just billy-big-bollocksing from the show’s producers (and our source material writer, George R R Martin).  With a bit of knifey-knifey, a whole plotline is extinguished, along with the dynasty of the Young Wolf.  Surely Catelyn Stark, the dear old earnest mum of our favourite Northerners, is spared?  Sadly not, and not even offing Walder Frey’s newest wife in the process can spare her a slit throat at the hands of the new Frey-Bolton-Lannister coalition.  At least she won’t be making any more of those straw-based protection charms for her children, as these have been proven ineffective time and time again.

Nevertheless, this climax is as clever as it is shocking, as we share the pain of the Stark’s surprise.  So rich is the universe of Game Of Thrones that Cersei has already explained the origin of Lannister anthem, The Rains Of Castamere, to Margaery whilst threatening her at Tyrion’s unfortunate wedding to Sansa.  The tale of a family who took on Westeros’s wealthiest and perished is well known.  So when the wedding band (don’t book them for your do as they’ll end up shooting you with crossbows from the gallery) strike up the opening notes to this smash hit, Catelyn knows something is fishy.  And she should know, as she was born a Tully (with a fish sigil – lol).  The moment she peels back Roose Bolton’s sleeve to uncover his chainmail is a delicious reveal and we’re forced to come to terms with the fact we’ll never be able to predict where this show is going.  A foreshadowing of the shocks to come hits us earlier on when Jaime’s sword hand is sliced off.  I repeat: nobody is safe.

Season three is also a season of near misses.  Arya, escorted by the Hound, nearly reaches her mother and brother at the Twins before the wedding disco gets out of hand.  Jon Snow and Ygritte nearly fall off the Wall (though seem to get down the other side with no trouble at all).  Brienne is almost mauled by a bear till Jaime saves her (bringing to life another Seven Kingdoms classic).  Gendry is almost sacrificed by Melisandre until rescued by Davos, who himself almost dies of thirst while shipwrecked.  Theon nearly gets away from Ramsay.  We nearly make decisions about whether we can trust Lords Varys and Baelish.  It’s a lot of action to keep up with, but we’re in the thick of things now, too far to turn back but a long way from an end that, at this point, doesn’t even seem possible.

By this stage, though, there are some universal truths we can acknowledge about the world in which our drama is playing out.  Firstly, every room seems equipped with a jug or decanter of red wine.  The Arbor must have amazing distribution, as no character seems able to enter a chamber without pouring out and chinning some refreshment.  Secondly, someone needs to tell the Westerosi how to make mirrors.  Sansa looks unhappily at herself in what looks like a dirty tray, but this links back to my point about the lack of scientific advancement in the last few thousand years.  Thirdly, there’s always someone available and amenable to ride along carrying a banner aloft.  One-handed riding is an impressive skill, which is a good thing in a world so obsessed with allegiances, unless you’re from the Brotherhood Without Banners, who are too busy hiding in caves to worry about such extravagances.  And finally, without doubt, the Freys have the worst headwear of any family in the show.  No wonder they murder their guests.

We’re left desperate for the fourth season.  Daenerys is liberating slaves but has acquired armies, Joffrey is poised (or poisoned) to wed Margaery, Theon is becoming Reek, Samwell has learned how to kill White Walkers but the Wildlings are rounding on Castle Black.  Bring.  It.  On.

Best newcomer

Meera Reed clinches the title this season.  She might not be able to skin a rabbit as efficiently as Osha, but she looks after brother Jojen so he can tutor Bran while Hodor drags him to the Wall, and beyond.  She’s up for the danger they’ll face there.  And she has amazing diction.  I’m obsessed with the actress Ellie Kendrick, so every scene with her is a triumph.

Most valuable character

I hate to say it, but Tywin Lannister emerges as the main man in this third outing.  His scheming finally pays off in the war against the Starks, plus he out-manoeuvres the Tyrells to force Loras into betrothal with Cersei, as well as making Tyrion marry Sansa.  At the periphery, Shae seethes, but is this just because she can’t resist a powerful old man?  Fixated on his legacy, Tywin won’t even let royal decorum get in his way, relishing in the exquisite moment he gets to send King Joffrey to bed without any supper.

Best death

This is actually the worst death, but I want to call it out as significant due to how overlooked it so often is.  Ros has been with us from the start, bedded by Theon and Tyrion in the North before making her way to fortune in King’s Landing, become a sort of PA to Littlefinger while still dabbling in some light sex work.  Sadly, Joffrey’s idea of eroticism results in her skewered with crossbow arrows and an unsung hero disappears from our screen.  Played beautifully by Esmé Bianco, Ros shows us that decent people simply can’t flourish in Westeros.

Jaw-dropper moment

There are too many to count but stuck in mind is the revolt of the nasty-looking members of the Night’s Watch at Craster’s Keep.  The tension that simmers as he refuses his guests sufficient food and generally acts like a dick when it comes to his wives (who are also his daughters) palpates before our eyes, before patiences run out and he is dispatched along with dear old Jeor Mormont (while his son, Jorah, is lost in petty rivalry with Barristan Selmy in Essos).  It’s a bleak moment, but it sets us up for some much-deserved vengeance later on.  And with that, it’s time for another episode as we journey into the fourth season.

Game Of Thrones (Season Two)

WARNING: CONTAINS SPOILERS

Still reeling from the execution of beloved Ned Stark, nothing delayed me in adding the second sequence of Game Of Thrones to my old Lovefilm list.  As one of the show’s only fans in those distant days, I had little competition for the DVD discs which soon appeared in the post for immediate viewing.  That said, the picture quality of DVDs is now tantamount to watching content through a butter-smeared cataract, so I’m surprised I was able to make out anything.  Now no longer shameful of its fantasy origins, with no apologies necessary for things like zombies and dragons, the second series offers an emboldened portrayal of Westeros, enriched by all the layers of storytelling its previous instalments had laid down.  I would quantify the action as aplenty, yet the dialogue scenes still sparkle with political tussling, knowing wit and rich imagery.  Some battles are only alluded to, due to their production cost (such as a Robb Stark ambush on the Lannisters) but this clearly allowed them to save enough budget to enact a naval battle in the series’ penultimate instalment, Blackwater.  So it’s swings and roundabouts, slash, creative editing and wildfire.

But I’m not cussing the production for being efficient, not least because all our scenes north of the Wall seem to be filmed in real snow.  No film or TV show ever has nailed realistic-looking fake snow, so the Night’s Watch in their almost entirety are shipped off to some godforsaken winter wonderland, not for a skiing break but to traipse through snowdrifts in their big black cloaks whilst in pursuit of Mance Rayder.  It’s a visual joy worth every penny and for which I am happy to sacrifice any other battles in this series.  And like all our theatres of action in this season, things get dark.  While those who have taken the black come face to face with the awful Craster and an army of the undead (and nobody can decide which one is worse) grim and ghoulish characters dominate scenes throughout each storyline.  From the blue-stained mouth of Pyat Pree in Qarth to basically anyone in the Iron Islands (though Yara Greyjoy turns out to be a babe), the baddies outnumber the goodies.  Even solid Lannister-alternative Stannis is joyless and potentially a bit evil, while darling Joffrey plumbs new depths of depravity yet still channels American daytime soap-operatic expressions to great effect.  Hating him more than anything unites us on the side of Sansa in the coming battles.

And indeed, that is the main thrust of this second series – the worsening of the war.  The Tyrells switch sides, Dorne is brought to heal, massacres run in the Riverlands and wildlings prepare for invasion.  As a result, the violence multiplies and grows more extreme, and it’s made clear it’s the smallfolk who suffer at the hands of the powerful in their petty squabbles.  Nowhere is this easier to see than at the doomed holdfast of Harrenhal.  I remember finding the tension here unbearable on my first viewing.  When the daily selection of torture victims threatens to end Gendry’s journey through a hot rat to the stomach (really) I almost lost my mind.  Furthermore, Tywin Lannister’s selection of Arya Stark as his cupbearer leads to an oblivious truce so paper-thin that you’re screaming at the TV each time the youngest daughter of Ned nearly opens up Tywin’s neck with her mutton knife.

Nevertheless, there is also greater confidence with LOLs, as humour creeps through even against the bleakest backdrops.  Ygritte’s goading of Jon Snow (for knowing nothing) draws a wry smile in the Arctic tundra, while some of Samwell Tarly’s comedic potential is slowly revealed.  There’s even space for dark humour, with the slightly slapstick approach to Jaqen H’ghar’s assassinations on behalf of new bestie, Arya.  Indeed, offsetting this lighter touch is a heck tonne of foreshadowing as well.  Reviewing these earlier series with the benefit of having seen everything, certain lines make more sense, certain expressions are more significant and certain background observations feel strangely pivotal.  But the expansion of the Game Of Thrones universe satiates our yearning for more of what we love.  Everything is spiralling out of control and starting to go very wrong (especially for the Starks) so the only response is a desperate need to return for more series to find out what happens next and to answer the ever more unanswerable question about how this can ever be resolved.

Best newcomer

Podrick Payne is who I’m going to single out of the many new faces to grace Westeros.  While he at first simply makes up the numbers in his initial scenes, he later becomes a source of great humour.  But it is his prowess in the Battle of Blackwater that marks him a true hero, most particularly as he saves Tyrion Lannister from his sister’s sketchy third-party attempt on his life, ensuring one of our most beloved characters makes it through to the end.  We also learn in season three about his massive willy, so it’s important that this too is acknowledged.

Most valuable character

I would like to make a big fuss here of Osha, as her achievements are wrongfully unsung.  While she enters the fray as a sinister Wildling, her loyalty to House Stark soon grows strong.  Determined to save Bran and Rickon from Iron Islander clutches, she takes one for the team by seducing Theon Greyjoy and offing a number of his guards.  With Bran’s survival pivotal to so many of the subsequent series (with many a great character meeting a grisly end while he just daydreams sitting down) it’s thanks to Osha that he survives this moment and lives on to warg another day.

Best death

Picking up where the first season left off, this sophomore series doesn’t hold back with the dispatching, so there was a wealth of offing to choose from.  I’ve gone with the dual ends of Xaro Xhoan Daxos and Doreah in Daxos’s own vault deep in Qarth.  Sealed in while still alive by Daenerys as punishment for betraying her and stealing her dragons, this first glimpse into her vengeful spirit is not only terrifying in and of itself, but being locked in a dark room until you die feels like a dreadful way to go, and the whimpers of Doreah as her fate is sealed (geddit?) still haunt me to this day.

Jaw-dropper moment

Meeting Melisandre is traumatic for all of us, not least because she talks only in the mantras of her Lord of Light religion, constantly gets her boobs out and pulls some wonderfully patronising facial expressions.  She likes setting fire to things (and people).  But, as she ascends in the camp of Stannis Baratheon’s claim to the Iron Throne, she makes sure to do away with any doubters by using the dark magic for which we love her.  While I could mention the smoke baby that ends Renly’s campaign after emerging from twixt her legs, it’s the poison goblet switcharoo she does with Maester Cressen which is both believable and terrifying enough to make it clear that this is a woman who can’t be trifled with (and is dark and full of terrors).