Yet another Game of Thrones episode that’s full of characters shining in ways they’ve never shone before—Sansa, Ramsay, Grey Worm and Missandei, Tyrion and of course, Oberyn—and all I can think about, despite everything that happened, is the curious shared recollection between Jaime and Tyrion about their cousin Orson killing beetles. Let’s circle back to that in a bit, though.
There were times when this week’s episode of Game of Thrones, “Mockingbird,” felt a little thin, but once again, it delivered in its most crucial moments to leave us with another satisfying hour and two long weeks before we’re treated to more. The wait becomes even more anxious because much of this episode, before it ends on a real shocker, is setting the stage for the final three episodes of this fourth season, so the lack of a new episode next Sunday makes the epic fight between Gregor Clegane and Oberyn Martell even more hotly anticipated. Then again, anyone who glanced at the titles of the forthcoming episodes, the next of which is “The Mountain and the Viper,” may have had this matchup spoiled for them.
One thing Game of Thrones has always had a special knack for is representing a variety of different individual and (fictitious) cultural perspectives on a single occurrence. It’s in a place so few stories attempt to occupy in the first place, which is a number of vastly different places and spaces at once, that gaining divergent insights into things is somewhat inevitable. But there seems to often be a deliberate effort put into this portrayal of perspective and how one’s setting and history shapes that perspective—whether it’s something they’ve inherited or something they’ve gained, or lost, along the way—with one of the best examples being the range of interpretations of the red comet that is observed throughout Westeros and Essos.
A lot of people love Game of Thrones for its multi-layered story populated by numerous characters moving forward in action-heavy set pieces and plot-driven shockers, with episodic events like the Battle of the Blackwater and the Red Wedding satisfying this itch. I include myself among this group. A facet of the show that seems less appreciated, though, and one that I enjoy just as much as its fight scenes, comes with the quiet, understated character moments that the series has earned after three seasons of establishing who these various inhabitants of Westeros are.
Chatter about the confidence of Game of Thrones has been transposed most recently by an increased volume of talk about the show’s depiction of violence, particularly sexual violence towards its female characters, which is sure to get its share of attention in the coming week once again after the Craster’s Keep scene in tonight’s episode. What I hope doesn’t go unnoticed, or under-appreciated, is that quality that is becoming more markedly unique to this series, which is usually described in the shorthand term of “confidence.”
Once their widespread jubilation over last week’s dire climactic moment had subsided, Game of Thrones viewers turned their attention to the big question of who orchestrated the deadly poisoning of the poor departed King Joffrey? This week's episode, “Breaker of Chains,” is cleverly designed to provide some answers as well as some further complications to this mystery.
Joel and Ethan Coen, despite the fact that they are a duo, are a singular force in modern cinematic history. That is to say, if you’ll forgive the grammatical confusion, there is only one Coen Brothers. Their outstanding 1996 film is equally singular, despite the fact that there is now a fantastic TV series that shares both its title and geographical setting: FX’s Fargo.
This was one of those Game of Thrones episodes that ends so shockingly and perfectly that it’s easy to forget how tremendously executed the preceding 45 minutes were. “The Lion and the Rose” will be remembered—like “The Rains of Castamere” and “Baelor”—as “that episode where that really big, important thing happened at the end.” In other words, it’s the type of episode you really don’t want to read about on Twitter or elsewhere before seeing it for yourself, because having one of the few satisfying game-changing moments from this series spoiled for you would be almost enough to dampen one’s mirth over the fact that one of television’s most loathed characters received a send-off worthy of his loathsomeness.
Having been raised in a Christian household, and a relatively devout one, the stories of the Hebrew Bible/Old Testament were ingrained in me from a very young age. Or so I thought. I later learned that the stories I thought I knew from childhood were merely family-friendly versions of some rather grim mythological material—the Disney versions of scripture, if you will. In some instances, there were some disturbing details I was aware of but didn’t fully grasp, such as Abraham being manipulated into sacrificing his only child and then having the rug pulled out from beneath him; in others, there were particulars completely omitted because they’re not at all suitable for children, such as Abraham’s nephew Lot being date raped by his two daughters.
The examples of actors who have gone on to direct films are presumably rather widely known. You have your Afflecks, your Eastwoods, your Jolies and numerous others. Screenwriters may be somewhat less famous when they try their hands at directing their own features, but there are many of these too, such as Charlie Kaufman, Shane Black, and Paul Schrader, to name but a few.
