After a false start a few months ago — a false start that I ascribe to moodiness, prejudice, or perhaps senility — I hit the reset button on Game of Thrones. I had recently, too, restarted watching Madmen (season 2). In effect, I unwittingly set up a horse race between these two shows. Although I like both, Game of Thrones wins (it’s not close) so I’ll watch that until the summer before starting The Wire, which I suspect will occupy me during the heat. Along the way I’ll finish up Madmen season 2.
I’ve now season Game of Thrones episodes 1-5, season 1. I think what frustrated me the first time I got started with it, more than anything, is that I was paying too much attention to the politics and not enough to the cinematography, characters, language, and the relationships among these. The politics, quite frankly, are not at all interesting to me. It’s the usual swill of Machiavellian machinations with pedestrian surprises and odd turns.
Far more interesting, at least to me, are the characters that are slowly being sketched and the relationships between them against an epic backdrop of gorgeous camera work, lush sets, costumes and spartan language. Really, it’s a great big love story sans romantic love thus far. Indeed, sex in Games of Thrones is rather base and driven by necessity, lust, and even narcissism. The loves that shine so far are those of friendship, family, service, and comradeship in arms. This aspect of Game of Thrones at this juncture reminds me to that of King Lear and Lord of the Rings.
I hope it continues to be this good.
Below is the star of the show. The short prince is in second place.