Winter warnings
Same Game, new rules. HBO’s monster hit reinvents itself…
As Westeros reopens for business, Tyrion Lannister’s worldview is newly boxed-in (so to speak). Young Arya Stark pursues a new identity; whole populations “have to learn to see things differently”. A push-pull tension is set: between characters as we know them and the people they are becoming, assuming, that is, that they keep their heads.
As serialised strategising goes, it’s a smart game-play. Great series often box clever and retire at four/five seasons; less canny ones slide into exhaustion. Not on showrunners David Benioff and D.B. Weiss’ watch. Without faking a clean slate, HBO’s George R.R. Martin adap pushes characters into tense new allegiances and roles, all while honouring the pull of old bonds, boozing habits and fire-belching dragons.
Granted, the reduced pace required to pull off this semi-restart drew flak from critics. Maybe Arya’s arc drags a little; or maybe it’s just that the killer shocks of earlier seasons stoked expectations of similar gotchas. Where’s a poisoning or a defenestration of a minor when you need one? As Conleth Hill’s wisdomspouting Lord Varys says in the kind of line that spotlights the show’s selfawareness and sharpens our responses, “Perhaps we’ve grown so used to horror, we assume there’s no other way.”
But there are other ways, one being to charge the opening episodes with the kind of portent that suggests designs at work. The opening of season five offers plot clues that then echo throughout what might seem like an eternity for impatient viewers. Lena Headey’s Cersei receives dire witchy warnings – and ascends steps she will later descend. When someone talks of newcomers the Faith Militant’s readiness “to dole out mercy or justice”, mercy, justice and fundamentalism are established as series signposts. When Carice Van Houten’s red witch Melisandre lights a pyre of ‘justice’ and Kit Harington’s Jon Snow fires a merciful arrow, more omens ring out: Melisandre lights an awful flame later and re-encounters Jon at the fateful series finale – start your season six theories here...
So, Peter Dinklage’s exiled Tyrion is trying to become just “one more drunken dwarf” but invoking Lannister-speak when needed: “I always pay my debts… I’m well known for it.” Nikolaj Coster-Waldau’s Jaime
Lannister travels to Dorne to retrieve his daughterby-twincest; the venomous climax to his trip will surely stoke season six’s aggro. Emilia Clarke’s Daenerys tries to rule without dragon-fire, at risk to her authority; Maisie Williams’ Arya begins to reinvent herself as a ‘faceless’ assassin. Jon gets the option not to be the bastard of Winterfell any more – and Sophie Turner’s Sansa Stark is advised to “stop being a bystander” and start playing.
The conniving Petyr ‘Littlefinger’ Baelish’s (Aidan Gillen) advice has grim consequences for Sansa, which plunged Thrones into new controversy when broadcast. Is episode six’s gruelling finale needed? The argument goes two ways. No, because no one needs another awful example of screen violence against women; yes, because how else would the wedding of Sansa and Iwan Rheon’s psychotic Ramsay Bolton ever have ended? Either way, the scene may yet have consequences. Squaring up to the controversy and promising pay-offs on an emotional, engaged commentary, writer Bryan Cogman promises: “The story’s not over, my friends.”
By episode eight, repayment for five seasons of debts arrives – with a roar. Like season two’s ‘Blackwater’, the thrilling, chilling ‘Hardhome’ is
Thrones at its cinematic best. Winter is finally here, as promised: and it doesn’t disappoint.
The impact of the final two episodes is, likewise, magnified by season five’s stealthy scene-setting. Episodes nine and 10 brilliantly interweave crowd-pleasing clout with nuances and depths: they aren’t just about solving clues, or issuing gotchas. In the city of Meereen’s fighting pits, there’s time for a debate about ethics during some visceral dust-ups – and for a punch-the-air pay-off. But any cheering is silenced by the shattering fate of Kerry Ingram’s young Shireen Baratheon. And silenced again by Cersei, whose suffering justifies single-handedly the careful shifting of character positions: stoked by Headey’s performance, we actually feel for Cersei. Now there’s a shift.
When the climactic arrival of a new outsized fighter for Cersei’s cause pays off season four’s finale, we’re reminded of something crucial about
Thrones’ showrunners. If we entered season five with small doubts, the climax leaves little doubt that season six is armed to deliver. Every character living (perhaps a dead one, too…) has been moved to a fascinating new playing position, presumably ready for endgame manoeuvres. We’re entering that murky area where the TV series is ahead of George R.R. Martin’s books, but don’t be surprised if Benioff and Weiss pay off the narrative debts they’ve notched up. They’re well known for it.
Extras-wise, the boxset brims with rewards, including an armoury of commentaries and a kind of CliffsNotes section on Thrones lore. The highlight is the episode 10 anatomy, which shows how much love went into this vigorous remix of Game rules: a high-stakes gamble, boldly executed.
‘Season five’s climax leaves little doubt that season six is armed to deliver’