If ever there was a series for which to avoid spoilers, “Bodyguard,” Netflix’s latest entry, is it.
“Rollercoaster” doesn’t even begin to characterize it. This is the most curious blend of shock and ambiguity I’ve seen in quite a while. Created and written by Jed Mercurio, who fills the same roles for “Line of Duty,” perhaps the best cop show ever, “Bodyguard” is difficult to discuss without giving plot twists away. So I’ll just leave it at this: The protagonist is David Budd (Richard Madden, truly late of “Game of Thrones”), an Afghanistan war veteran turned police sergeant, who, after thwarting a terrorist attack, is assigned as protection officer for the controversial Home Secretary Julia Montague (Keely Hawes). Unlike “Line of Duty,” which is a classic police procedural, “Bodyguard” is a thriller that never stops. So many shocking developments occur that sneaking around the internet for spoilers will absolutely wreck your viewing experience.
It’s not hard to see why this show was a huge BBC hit. First and foremost, it features taut storytelling—there’s not an ounce of filler or flab in its six episodes. Which raises an important point: some recent Netflix series (I’m looking at you, “The Five”) are stretched beyond endurance. Ten episodes for a mystery or thriller? That’s definitely four too many. Brevity is not only the soul of wit—it’s frequently the hallmark of good writing for this genre.
In addition to Robb Stark—er, David Budd—there are some powerful women at work here. Aside from the Home Secretary, there’s Lorraine Craddock (Pippa Haywood), his immediate superior, and Anne Sampson (Gina McKee), Head of the Metropolitan Police’s Counter Terrorism Command—all played by terrific actresses. Once again, Keely Hawes, so memorable in Seasons Two and Three of “Line of Duty”, turns in a wonderfully nuanced performance as Julia Montague. Ambitious and hard-nosed, she’s not afraid to tangle with the big boys in government. She’s matched, if not exceeded by Gina McKee, who plays her character’s ambiguity to the hilt. There’s not one second you’re sure of her. Is she working against the Home Secretary or is she loyal? Ms. McKee keeps you guessing for all six episodes. And she’s not the only one—you’re not even certain of David Budd. The rest of the cast is uniformly excellent, particularly Anjli Mohindra as Nadia, a woman forced by her husband to don a suicide vest.
One word of advice: “Bodyguard” is definitely bingeable, but you may want to take a breath or two along the way. You’re going to need it.
Is there any doubt that one of the highest bars in American popular culture was set by that television gem, “The Twilight Zone”? Lasting only five seasons in its initial run, its long shadow has been felt ever since. There’s hardly been a sci-fi or speculative television series in subsequent decades that has not escaped comparison with Rod Serling’s creation. Its hallmarks made it iconic: Serling’s clenched-jaw introductions, the terseness of its storytelling and above all, its final twists. It was and is a tough act to follow, yet we still hope, with the premiere of each new show of that genre, that the original will be matched, if not surpassed.
“Black Mirror,” the brainchild of Charlie Brooker, was both inspired by and measured against TZ from the start. Now in its fourth season, “Black Mirror” seems not only in competition with the older show but with itself. Gaining steam over time, “Black Mirror’s” previous episodes culminated in an unforgettable Season 3, which brought “Nosedive,” “Playtest,” “Shut Up and Dance,” and, most memorably, the Emmy-winning “San Junipero.” Where would Charlie Brooker go from here?
The answer, at least for me, was not entirely welcome. While I have no quibble with Brooker’s promise that Season 4 of “Black Mirror” would be much darker than before, I found it markedly inconsistent, both in writing and in execution. It begins with “USS Callister,” featuring a “Star Trek”-like fantasy created by an exceptionally mean character. I was never a Trekkie, but the end of the episode, both in real and fantasy time, is most satisfying (the above photo is only half the story). Two of the episodes, “Crocodile” and “Metalhead,” are the darkest of Season 4, and both fail for different reasons. I’m not into torture porn, which features in the former, and the latter consists entirely of a chase with little if any information as to “Who,” “What,” “Where” and “Why?,” leaving you not to care. And I found “Black Museum,” the last episode, to be quite predictable.
The two stand-out episodes are “Arkangel” and “Hang the DJ,” which in retrospect are also the most plausible. “Arkangel” rests on the age-old push/ pull between mothers and daughters, updated with technology that’s just around the corner. Featuring Rosemarie DeWitt as the over-protective (to say the least) mom and Brenna Harding as her shielded daughter, the episode is directed by Jodie Foster to a heartbreaking conclusion. However, my favorite, and one of “Black Mirror’s” best, is “Hang the DJ,” the ingredients of which somewhat resemble those of “San Junipero:” two characters with mad chemistry who belong together. In place of Gugu Mbatha-Raw and Mackenzie Davis, we’ve got Georgina Campbell and Joe Cole (who is especially adorable) in a world where Higher Powers pair people in serial relationships of dictated duration. “Hang the DJ” resonates on several levels, not least in its references to mythic stories. The Forbidden Question looms large in this episode: as Elsa can not ask Lohengrin his name, as Orpheus may not glance back at Eurydice, Amy and Frank agree not to ask the length of their predetermined relationship. Naturally one of them blinks. In addition to the sweetness of its actors, “Hang the DJ” features a number of laugh-out-loud moments and an ending worthy of “The Twilight Zone.” It’s a shame the rest of this season’s episodes didn’t match this one in quality.
The availability of Amazon Prime’s “Philip K. Dick’s ‘Electric Dreams'” followed closely on the heels of the current round of “Black Mirror.” This 10-episode show is based on Dick’s futuristic short stories which were initially published in the early 50’s. Although Dick’s work has been updated and expanded, there’s a strong feeling of “Been there, done that.” So many ground-breaking sci-fi concepts of the 30’s, 40’s and 50’s wound up in film and television that the imitations are stronger in memory than the originals. But this show suffers from another problem: so many sci-fi concepts originally deemed beyond imagination have in fact become reality. As Yogi Berra is supposed to have said (and is quoted in one of the “Electric Dream” episodes), “The future ain’t what it used to be.”
Like “The Twilight Zone,” “Electric Dreams” is an anthology in which each episode has a different writer, director and cast (“Black Mirror” also features independent episodes, but all with the exception of Season 3’s “Nosedive,” were scripted by Charlie Brooker, who still managed to devise its story). When “Electric Dreams” works, it’s more because of the actors’ performances than the material which by now has been worked and reworked so many times: The boy who thinks his father has been taken over by an alien (“The Father Thing”). The man with a psychotic son being tempted to join a perfect world in which the son never existed (“The Commuter”). The existence of a fantasy world which may be more real than the original (“Real Life”). Greg Kinnear, Mireille Enos and Jack Gore, Timothy Spall, and Anna Paquin, respectively, enrich these episodes to a considerable degree, as does Richard Madden (hello, Robb Stark!) for “The Hood Maker.”
Once again, though, mad chemistry wins out, this time in “Human Is,” the episode which may be closest to Philip Dick’s original concept. The beginning is hard to take—Bryan Cranston may be a space hero, but his emotional distance from his wife, played by Essie Davis, borders on abuse. The change in the man, following a harrowing ambush by aliens, the suspicion of his co-workers, the loyalty of his wife and the wonderful ending are all foreseeable, yet the journey is a particularly enjoyable one. Cranston has never been more intriguing, and he and Davis are terrific together. The final lines of the episode are taken directly from Dick’s short story, and Cranston’s delivery sticks the landing of the final twist. Bravo!
Late to the party as usual, I didn’t expect to enjoy “The Crown” as much as I did when I finally tuned in last month. Needless to say I wound up eating my pre-viewing impression and was soundly hooked as I binged Season One. Season Two, recently available for streaming on Netflix, has only solidified my admiration for this show.
What makes “The Crown” so addictive? There’s the obvious: American fascination with royalty, American fascination with the very rich, American fascination with scandal (real or imagined)—you get the picture. However, there’s more in play. While the dates and events leading up to and during World War II are generally known, dramas centered on life in England’s post-war period haven’t received nearly as much exposure in America. Because Elizabeth has reigned for decades, most of us have no image of her other than the formerly middle-aged, now elderly woman she is. It comes as quite a shock to realize how very young she was—only 25—when she became Queen, so seeing her at this stage of her life is certainly a new and refreshing experience.
Ah, but many ask: Is what we see on Netflix true? Aside from the fact that we’ll never really know who said what to whom in so many situations dramatized in “The Crown,” some details tend to nag. Not to be nit-picky, but I find it very hard to believe that the subject of Elizabeth’s regnant name was not discussed prior to her father’s death; she had been heiress presumptive for years at a time when George VI was not exactly in the best of health. “Spontaneity” is simply not in the monarchy’s lexicon. In addition, certain aspects of Season Two’s “Dear Mrs. Kennedy” episode were especially troublesome (and Michael C. Hall was a surprisingly awful JFK). Why was there no mention of President Kennedy’s father, Joseph P. Kennedy, American Ambassador to the Court of St. James in the 1930’s? Given the senior Kennedy’s position, JFK would have been familiar with court protocol unlike the bumbler we see on the screen. And JFK’s being jealous of Jackie’s star power? By all accounts this was a marriage shrewdly made, designed to showcase her style and sophistication as essential political assets. He knew it, she knew it, and by all means the strategists knew it and deployed accordingly.
These quibbles are relatively minor considering how well “The Crown” works as drama. Season One is one long spellbinder featuring a very young woman acceding to a position of power while her country was still coping with the privations of World War II, all at a time when her assumption of the throne put unimaginable strain on her marriage. Season Two gets off to a slow start—as Elizabeth aptly observes, Philip’s whining and whingeing is indeed tedious, and unfortunately drags on for three episodes. But then “The Crown” hits its stride, with one fascinating story after another: Philip besmirched by the scandal of the divorce of his boon companion, Mike Parker, and later, his suspected involvement in the Profumo Affair; the Duke of Windsor’s attempt to obtain a position of influence in England as details regarding his (and the Duchess of Windsor’s) involvement with Hitler and the Nazi regime before the war sour his prospects; the back story of Philip’s unhappy childhood, the shocking loss of his favorite sister and her family and his seemingly blind eye to the emotional needs of his own son; and best of all, Elizabeth’s dance with Kwame Nkrumah, President of Ghana. I don’t think we see her enjoying any other moment in this show as much as his whirling her around the floor to “Begin the Beguine.”
Netflix really shot the works in the casting department for “The Crown.” John Lithgow deserves every accolade he’s received as Churchill. I enjoy Jared Harris in everything he’s done, even (and especially) as the scheming Lane Pryce in “Mad Men.” His George VI is a solid presence, and it’s rather interesting that both he and Colin Firth (“The King’s Speech”) played the character so memorably though neither resembles the frail man who actually reigned. Pip Torrens’ multi-layered performance as Royal Secretary Tommy Lascelles, the courtier you love to hate, is fun to watch, and Greg Wise makes an incredibly suave Lord Mountbatten. Perhaps best of all, Alex Jennings’ performance as the Duke of Windsor, a man eternally denied what he wanted most and blind to the ramifications of his actions, may be the stand-out of both seasons.
But the heart of “The Crown” is its trio of core actors: Claire Foy (Elizabeth), Matt Smith (Philip) and especially Vanessa Kirby (Margaret). The gentleman goes first: Matt Smith does an excellent job with a difficult and at times impossible character. To say Philip is mercurial is an understatement, yet while Smith shows the recklessness and impatience of the man, he makes us understand his frustrations. Equally skilled at displaying Philip’s tender side, Smith delivers the character’s speech at his 10th anniversary party, in all in its complexity, to perfection.
Claire Foy’s portrayal of the young Elizabeth could not be better. Her range is a marvel–from being overwhelmed at the father’s untimely death and her assumption of the crown to issues with Philip and Margaret and the intricacies of dealing with a parade of prime ministers, competing courtiers and her own mother, she’s just about perfect. She’s perhaps at her best when an anvil falls and she can’t show emotion. Watch her gather herself in the blink of an eye and just go on. This is most evident in the “Dear Mrs. Kennedy” episode when she presses a friend to reveal the cutting things Jackie said about her at a dinner party–the merest flicker of hurt crosses her face as she struggles to shrug it off. Yet her best scene in Season Two, aside from dancing with Nkrumah, may be her discussion with Lord Altrincham (astutely played by John Heffernan), well-meaning yet vocal critic of Elizabeth’s performance and public image as monarch. While it was her choice to meet with him, she really doesn’t want to be there. Yet Ms. Foy makes it equally apparent that Elizabeth knows she must listen to this man’s suggestions in order to improve—she owes it to the country. The actor’s skill in this scene is only topped by the Queen’s delivery of her first Christmas address on television—her awkwardness and discomfort are palpable as she gamely pushes through.
But it’s the brilliantly nervy performance of Vanessa Kirby as Princess Margaret that keeps you glued to the tube for “Just one more episode!” as you binge. She delivers on a tremendous opportunity, playing a character whose existence threatens to become as empty as that of her uncle, the Duke of Windsor. What a showcase Ms. Kirby has: the Peter Townsend mess, her clashes with her sister (or, more accurately, the institutions of crown, church and government) and her involvement with and eventual marriage to Antony Armstrong-Jones (Matthew Goode). Ms. Kirby and Mr. Goode manage to maintain an exquisitely slow burn during their characters’ courtship; their interactions during the episode “Beryl,” with her insinuations and his ambiguity (sexual and otherwise) are riveting. In a way you’re sorry to see them married. And so will they be.
The next season of “The Crown” will skip ahead to the early 1970’s, and the actors we’ve enjoyed so much will be replaced. Olivia Coleman, marvelous in “Broadchurch” among many other things, will inherit Claire Foy’s tiara. I have no doubt the show will retain its quality.
Shock and awe, particularly the former, have been the hallmark of “Game of Thrones” from the very beginning. Ned Stark’s execution, Tyrion’s regaining consciousness on the slanted perch of the Eyrie’s Sky Room, the Red Wedding, the sacrifice of Shareen…all these and so many more. And the warfare—with or without dragons. What bothered me about this season was the absence of a “Wow!” element of surprise, even with last week’s Battle With the Wights. Instead there’s been a pervasive feeling of fulfillment, as if the show runners were simply ticking items off a “To Do” list. That is, until this season’s final episode, “The Dragon and the Wolf.”
Few events have been as satisfying as Littlefinger’s demise, not even Ramsey Bolton’s metamorphosis into doggie dinner. I literally applauded the confrontational sleight of hand Sansa managed to pull off. While I suspected Stark blood would prove thicker than water, I must admit the show runners had me second-guessing their intentions with their ambiguous build-up in the last couple of episodes. I thought Arya’s twirling the dagger and handing it off to Sansa last week was nothing short of “Kill me if you dare.” The tip-off in the final confrontation should have been the sight of Bran the Three-Eyed Raven at Sansa’s side, but Arya is such a commanding figure that all eyes were on her. Kudos to the show runners for such a delightful payoff.
It’s hard to pick Littlefinger’s worst crime: The attempt on Bran’s life? Lying about it to create eternal warfare between Starks and Lannisters? Betraying Ned Stark? Selling Sansa to the Boltons? For my money the most pathetic was dropping poor addled Lysa Arryn through the Moon Door. The one swift slash by Arya that ended his life was too good for him.
This episode also proved to be Old Home Week in the reunions leading up to the Big Confab: Tyrion and Bronn, Bronn and Podrick, Brienne and Jamie of course, but Brienne and the Hound was one for the ages. I half expected Brienne to sing that wonderful line from the Leonard Bernstein musical, “Candide”: “You were dead you know.” It was wonderful to see the Hound smile like a proud papa over Brienne’s testimony to Arya’s duelling prowess. I only hope his threatened fight to the death with Brother Mountain, sure to be a highlight of next season, finds him the victor.
If nothing else, “The Dragon and the Wolf” proved how many events in this saga were the result of lies and evasions. Littlefinger’s plotting put so much in motion, but on it goes: Jon needs to know that his real name is Aegon Targaeryan (normally I’d say “Too late, he’s already bedded his aunt,” but incest is coin of the realm on GoT), Sam needs to be told he’s really Lord Tarly and should be in a command position. By the way, it seems to me that Bran’s Three-Eyed Raven radar needs fine-tuning if he didn’t see that Rhaegar Targaryan and Lianna Stark were secretly married. Is it possible that the maester’s diary Sam read was just a fantastical allegory? Maester-time could get pretty dull, I would imagine, and spicing things up with tall tales could be great entertainment. And speaking of wrong-number prophecies, I fully expect the first big “Wow!” of next season to be the reveal that Danaerys is pregnant. The show runners love to bookend, and this twist would be the perfect companion to both Cersei/Jamie and Rhaegar/Lianna. Though I have to say the moral might be a little odd: “See, incest can be good”?
Two other developments did surprise me (no, not Jon and Danaerys—if you didn’t sense bedtime was on the horizon, you need a new show). I never expected Jamie to leave Cersei under any circumstances, particularly now that she’s pregnant. It’s true that he’s always tried to uphold honor, but still, given all he’s done on her behalf in the past, his riding North to presumably join up with his brother was a huge surprise.
As was the destruction of the Wall, which proved to be a fitting end to this season. How is it the dragon Viserion can still spew fire after he’s been frozen? And what’s the Night King’s secret command to get him to do so? It sure isn’t “Dracarys!” I only hope Tormund survived the debacle, just so we can see him with Brienne once more.
Another long lonely winter without “Game of Thrones” awaits. Only six more episodes to savor.
I’m surprised the “Game of Thrones” showrunners haven’t stuck it on a billboard by now.
In case you were busy, unconscious or otherwise occupied during GoT’s Episode 5, “Eastwatch,” Gilly’s perusal of a musty text at the Citadel revealed that Rhaegar Targaeryan was both divorced and immediately thereafter married on the same day in a secret ceremony in Dorne. And who do you think the (un)lucky lady he took to the altar was? Could it—no, it couldn’t be!—Lyanna Stark?!?! Well, duh. Those signals have been blaring for months, and this latest felt like being hit over the head by a 2 x 4. If true, Jon’s not really a Stark bastard, but the rightful and legitimate Targaeryan heir. And if any doubt at all remains, notice how he made friends with Drogon. Awwww, cute puppy! So, Danaerys—who has to bend the knee?
This penultimate season keeps chuddering along with relatively few surprises to date. Notice how quickly both news and people travel these days–this show seems to be on speed dial. It used to take Jorah Mormont half a season to travel from Point A to Point B, and here he is, from Citadel to Dragonstone in the blink of an eye. Fortunately things are kept lively by choice one-liners from our favorite quipsters. Tyrion to Jorah: “Nobody glowers quite like you–not even Grey Worm.” And Tormund remains in rare form. When he’s not lusting after Brienne, he’s getting straight to the heart of things, as witness his attempt to clarify Jon’s mission to north of the Wall: “How many queens are there now?…And you need to convince the one with the dragons, or the one who fucks her brother?”
Speaking of which, Cersei is once again with child, cooking up more Lannister devil-spawn. Jamie may be a proud papa, but I’m not so sure he’s looking forward to being paraded about in public as Cersei’s incestuous brother. He’s got the smarts to realize that even a queen may not be able to get away with this one.
Other developments that bear watching: As the result of yet another dragon barbeque, Sam, no longer an apprentice maester, is the new Lord Tarly though he doesn’t know it yet. I suspect the bookworm will eventually turn warrior. And with the return of Gendry, we now have a Baratheon in the mix who wields a hatchet like nobody’s business. If he keeps a list like Arya does, I would imagine Cersei and Melisandre are Items 1 and 1A on that document.
I have to confess I had my hands over my eyes during the Arya/Littlefinger mutual spying scenes. It’s my fervent hope that her time as “No One” will tip Arya off that he’s manufacturing the basis of a split between her and Sansa, leading not necessarily to Arya’s death but more likely, to her banishment from Winterfell. Trouble is already outpacing Littlefinger. Arya has always had Sansa’s number, even when the two were children. Arya rightly senses that Sansa wants that crown as Queen of the North—“You don’t want to, but you’re thinking it right now.” Despite their history, my money’s on the Stark girls to prove that blood is thicker than water, with Littlefinger as the loser (And if the girls don’t come through, I suspect Bran the Three-Eyed Raven will).
So we end with two major events pending: a confrontation between Jon’s ragtag army of Tormund, Ser Jorah, the Hound and the Dondarrian boys with the Army of the Dead, and a sit-down between Danaerys and Cersei. The suspense is building.
What riches in this week’s “Game of Thrones” episode, “The Spoils of War:” Arya back in Winterfell! Theon washed up (in more ways than one) on Dragonstone! Bran knowing Arya’s list without even peeking! Historic cave hieroglyphics! Dragons incinerating an entire Lannister army! Jamie dunked!
Arya’s long-awaited return to Winterfell is one of the Top Ten highlights of the entire show. Her verbal sparring with the sentries was delicious, though her uncertainty as to who was currently wearing the title of “Lady Stark” underscored a bit of vulnerability (I suppose as a non-head of House she’s merely “Lady Arya”). Her sad gaze around the castle courtyard spoke volumes—see what happens when Greyjoys and Boltons don’t bother with upkeep? Her reunion with Sansa was chock full of treasures. When Sansa, referring to Jon, remarked, “When he sees you, his heart will probably stop,” did you yell at your screen “It already did”? However, there was a superb moment of ambiguity that followed Arya’s reference to her list. At first blush she’s a deadly serious adult thirsting to kill her remaining enemies. Sansa’s reaction is pure shock, then riotous laughter. Does she see this as a joke, or is she taken aback by the gravity of her sister’s intentions? Or both? At the sound of Sansa’s laughter, Arya suddenly smiles, a truly rare reaction from her, as we see her instantly revert from experienced killer to cute younger sister. Kudos to Maisie Williams and Sophie Turner for realizing the subtleties of this scene.
This could only be topped, and it was, by Arya’s training session with Brienne. Remember Catelyn’s smile when she first met Brienne back in Season Two? You knew exactly what she was thinking: “This is my daughter in ten years,” though she had no way of knowing it wouldn’t take quite that long. The Brienne/Arya sparring match was made even more impressive (and amusing) by the fact that Gwendoline Christie is about a foot and a half taller than Maisie Williams, though the latter can definitely twirl a sword like nobody’s business. A mutual appreciation society is born. And aside from their fighting prowess, the ladies obviously share the same view of Littlefinger. If looks could kill, their mutual glare at him would have made him an undertaker’s delight. By the way, that dagger Bran gave to Arya? He might as well have instructed her: “Go, sis, and plant it in Littlefinger’s chest.” I doubt Lord Baelish is long for this world.
One by one the loose ends are being tied up. When Theon came ashore at Dragonstone, I expected Jon to kill him in short order for selling out brother Robb. I would have thought Theon’s leaping rescue of Sansa did nothing more than square Greyjoy debt vis-a-vis House Stark, not created a Stark I.O.U. However, Jon evidently has his own bookkeeping system and thinks otherwise. And speaking of what is owed, Bran’s send-off of Meera Reed was awfully harsh. I’m glad she read him the roll call: the deaths of her brother Jojen, Hodor and his own direwolf Summer in his service, not to mention the numerous times she risked her own life to save his hide. I know the Three-Eyed Raven is taking over Bran’s consciousness, but that’s no excuse for treating her without a breath of empathy.
Catching up on Lannister business, they continued to pay their debts…with the money of other Houses. Given the extensive pillage at Highgarden of both gold and grain, it appears there wasn’t even a Tyrell second cousin once removed left to fight back—Lady Olenna was evidently the last of her House. While we’re on the subject of Lannisters, does anyone really think Cersei’s going to go through with a marriage to Euron Greyjoy, war trophies or no? They may make it to the Sept, but you can bet her apothecaries are already whipping up a wedding night special.
The end of the episode was worth waiting for. A full twelve minutes of screen time, from first rumble of dragon thunder to a sinking Jamie, Dany’s unleashing her dragons for a Lannister army stir-fry proved to be one of GoT’s epic battles. There was even a blink-and-you-missed-it guest appearance by GoT fan and Mets pitcher, Noah Syndergaard, who at 6’6″ made the perfect Lannister spearchucker (Celebrity has its perks). Nevertheless, it was slightly ridiculous to see everything surrounding Jamie go up in flames while he remained untouched. I was hoping to see Bronn incinerated—his constant kvetching about being awarded a castle has become tiresome—though upon repeat viewing this did not seem to happen. A pity.
Although the next episode seems to be North-centric, here’s hoping we learn Jamie’s fate in short order, not to mention that of poor Drogon (can he still fly?), the cured and presumably homeward bound Ser Jorah Mormont and the still missing in action Gendry (Remember him? Robert Baratheon’s bastard). And when oh when will Dany give up her obsession with knee-bending and rule the school as co-equals with Jon?
There’s a scent of inevitability in the “Game of Thrones” air, isn’t there? The longed-for meeting of Daenerys Targaryen and Jon Snow. Yet another Stark family reunion. One more harbinger of the end: “Epigramish” seems to have displaced the Common Tongue as the main language on this show, not always for the better.
Cersei may have settled a ton of Lannister business in last night’s episode, “The Queen’s Justice,” but the GoT audience knows that such relief is usually transitory at best. Whipping up a batch of Dorne Killer Lip Balm, Cersei’s favorite apothecary provided the means for his boss’ squaring accounts with Ellaria Sand. In an excruciating scene, Cersei gets her revenge for the murder of daughter Myrcella by not only assuring a slow, painful death for Ellaria’s daughter, but forcing her mother to witness it and live with her rotting corpse, all the while chained to a dungeon wall. The Sand Snakes were not among my favorites, but that’s somewhat beyond the pale, even for Cersei. While GoT periodically tries to remind us that Cersei’s one redeeming feature is her love for her children, it’s hard to keep that in mind in the face of how she spends the rest of her waking hours.
On the bright side, the Targaryen/Snow confab was really a master class in the subtleties of diplomacy, as conducted by Tyrion and Ser Davos. How both strived to keep the dialogue going in the face of mutual refusals by their leaders to acknowledge the other’s sovereignty made for instructive viewing (Washington, take note). At least good intentions were displayed on both sides: Dany apologized for her mad father’s burning Jon’s grandfather and uncle to death, and he acknowledged Ned Stark’s breaking faith with the centuries-old alliance between the Houses Stark and Targaryan. Their interests are similar to the extent that both want Cersei’s head on a spike, but who gets to rule the schoolyard Seven Kingdoms?
At least both houses came away with something they wanted, unlike Varys, who received a very unwelcome prophesy from Melisandre. Evidently dying in Dragonstone is not what he envisioned—for the first time in ages, he looked afraid. On the other hand, Littlefinger not only remained in character, he somewhat upped the ante. The man loves to speak in riddles, but the advice (?) he gave to Sansa was so obscure, I still need a translation. Speaking of Sansa and riddles, I loved the expression on her face when she walked away from her conversation with Bran, the Three-Eyed Raven: It screamed “My brother is a weirdo!” Ah, siblings.
I’m going to miss Diana Rigg’s presence on this show. What a tough old bird Olenna Tyrell was, and how right she’ll be about Cersei’s eventually being the death of Jamie. Cersei may be queen, but it’s not a good idea to have your waiting woman catch you in the sack with your brother. That kind of behavior usually has a tendency to make you vulnerable to wannabes, no? (Hello, Euron Greyjoy!) Olenna’s pre-death conversation with Jamie was a refreshingly civilized bookend to Cersei’s dispatch of Ellaria Sand. One thing about Jamie—unlike his sister, honor means a great deal to him (See “Edmure Tully, Defeat of”). However, Olenna’s needling confession about Joffrey’s murder confused me. Didn’t she have a collaborator in Tywin Lannister? I’m surprised she didn’t skewer Cersei further by dropping that bit of information.
So…Will Dany’s dragons carry the day and destroy Euron Greyjoy’s fleet? Will the newly-cured Jorah Mormont arrive in time to help? Will Theon ever stop being a wimp?